Just Sayin'

Snow in Malmedy

2011-02-26T11:29:00.000-08:00

People were hoping for snow this morning in our area of Sacramento

MALMEDY MASSACRE

but were disappointed. It was cold enough to snow but the moisture wasn't there. I was not among those waiting in anticipation.

My encounters with that
element of nature are mostly unpleasant ones.

As a child I lived for a time in the High Sierras and spent one winter in a simple cabin with only plain boarding for walls. I helped the cause by stuffing the cracks between the siding with newspaper to keep out the chill. Water was carried from a nearby creek and the morning wash basin full would be frozen. Play outside meant frost bitten fingers. The only good thing to recall was when mom would put some fresh snow in a bowl and add milk and sugar to make a simple ice cream.
As an infantryman in WWII I spent a couple of winters in the snow of Europe. In combat that is no fun. I remember being dug in to the side of a railroad embankment (a side wise foxhole) and having our minister bring me a pair of dry socks to protect my feet from frostbite. I had to kick the return slide on my M-1 rifle to get a round in the chamber as it was frozen. And once while on guard duty with a friend we shared a foxhole during our rest period; and, during the night we were covered with snow and our replacement luckily and literally stumbled upon us while searching desperately in the dark.
On one combat patrol we wore white 'long john' underwear over our uniforms to serve as camouflage as we marched. This was a venture to regain ground taken by the Germans at the Malmedy Massacre, where they captured a hospital and shot the American patients. We did retake this area and provide evidence for possible war crimes trials after the war. You can probably read about it by using google. In our approach to this area we were opposed by a few rifle shots from the surrounding hills and as we sought to make shelter in the fields by digging fox holes I spotted a depressed spot that I thought would give me a head start. In actuality it had frozen water in the bottom and I had to use my small shovel to chip it away first. As time passed the opposition grew stronger and soon a mortal shell burst above me. I felt a sting on my back (I was reclining while attempting to dig) and reached back to see if I was injured. I found a small fragment of the shell lying on my back that was still warm from firing. I carried it for years as a good luck charm. The photo above is of my buddy Bob Smothers and I just before the Malmedy venture.
The upshot of all this is that I did suffer some frost damage to my feet during these winters and I do not enjoy wading about in snow. I am happy to sit in the warm lodge, sipping a bolstering drink, while watching you ski buffs suffer outside. I am
Just Sayin'

Wanderlust

2011-02-22T11:14:00.000-08:00

In the Spring of 1964 I, my wife and two sons took a 6 week trip from California across the United States and return. We traveled in a very large slide-in camper that had a large sleeping area that extended over the cab of our Dodge truck. I had just leased the truck and caught a break on the camper when the original purchaser decided she didn't like the color scheme and forfeited the $500 down payment, which the dealer gave to me. This camper was so wide that it would probably be prohibited from highways by most states today. The weight caused the front of the truck to rise a bit so driving was a learning process that I had to engage. As an army vet who had driven everything from half-tracks, 2 1/2 ton trucks, command cars, jeeps and seeps I had no fears in tackling this behemoth. And, in the end, no damage was ever incurred. The camper had a dining table that converted into a double bed at nighttime, a chemical toilet, an ice box, propane stove and oven, sink, battery operated lights or regular electric hook-ups when parked. A very comfy home away from home and, while moving, the boys had a great seat in the overhead sleeping area with its large window.
This was a vagabond trip, wandering south through the Salton Sea then eastward through New Mexico, Texas, Louisiana, Mississippi, Georgia, Florida, No. Carolina, Tennessee, Kentucky and Ohio before turning westward towards home. I would drive about two or three hundred miles each morn and arrive at a pre-planned spot to rest, sight see and get our ground legs back again. We tried not to miss the notable places along the way, stopping at Indian Tribal sites, the Carlsbad Caverns in New Mexico, the Alamo in San Antonio, Lake Pontchartrain in Louisiana, Stone Mountain in Georgia, Blue Ridge Mountains in No. Carolina, a few days with an army buddy in the back woods of Kentucky, and a long stay in Cincinnati, Ohio where we visited with my wife's sister.
With today's restrictions and regulations I doubt if this trip could be duplicated. Campers were not that prevalent and we were able to stop almost wherever we wished for the evening. We stayed in super market parking lots, under bridge overpasses, and often in state or county parks. In big cities we could often just park on a street as we were treated as a passenger car under the highway codes. We were self contained so did not pose an environmental threat. Only once were we told to leave a potential overnight site and that was in Coolidge, Arizona where we had parked at the Casa Grande ruins. A ranger politely asked us to leave after visitor hours as he had no rules governing a possible night visitor. There were a few commercial camp sites to be found. We found one in Georgia and one in No. Carolina. Both had places to shower, clean the camper and provided Ranger guided tours of the area. I recall the cost as being 75 cents per night in Georgia and $2.50 in No. Carolina; however, in No. Carolina's defense, they had a swimming pool and rec hall.
As we traveled we would gather decals to apply to the rear of the camper, indicating all the places we had visited. Remember, this was 1964 and we were to travel through the deep south. While in full sympathy with the civil rights cause, we were on vacation and hoped to get safely home without injury, so we did not engage in any political discourse with the natives. And, there were plenty of natives who would gather around us wherever we stopped - - never having seen a home on wheels before.
The closest we came to an accident happened when I pulled off the highway in a wide strip of graveled ground so we could have some lunch. After lunch I prepared to leave and walked behind the camper to make sure all was clear as I needed to back up to gain a more level access to the highway. Then, I slowly backed up and hit something. Upon investigation I found that a gentleman had pulled up immediately behind me, so close he was in a blind spot, and was busy studying a map! No damage was done so we chatted, smiled, and went on our separate ways.
Our only major problem came after my youngest son became seriously ill in New Mexico. We had briefly visited distant relatives in Texas and he had taken a drink of water from a garden plastic hose. It gave him a kidney infection and we were stuck outside Carlsbad Caverns without a clue where to go. We drove to Lovington, NM at early dawn and found a hospital. They had to call a doctor as there was none on duty at that hour. In a short time a physician arrived and he was able to diagnose the problem and provide antibiotics that quickly brought back a healthy lad. Son, Kevin, about 7 yrs. old at the time, was convinced that a young boy on the Carlsbad tour was to blame, having made a 'devil face' at him when he passed. He still believes this today.
Everyday we awoke to a new front yard, a new adventure. We enjoyed views of cotton fields, corn fields, busy city traffic, nearby creeks, rivers and lakes. We spent one night holed up in the camper while a furious thunder storm drenched the area and lightning struck a tree a bare 30 feet away. This was in Indiana on our route homeward. We later paused in Arizona to view the petrified forest and the huge crater that was formed eons ago by a meteor.
It would be an equally adventurous trip today but with the price of gasoline and the traffic today - - - I am
just sayin'

Fiesta of Food

2011-02-02T16:14:00.000-08:00

When I first married Virginia after WWII I was the cook in the family. Now that is not saying much. I could scramble eggs, which I learned how to do as a child and I had a smattering of in-the-field cooking I had to learn in the army; like heating a can of beans on the radiator of a half-track vehicle. Virginia had zero experience. She had worked part time in a bakery but otherwise ate what her grandmother served. So, we were fortunate in sharing a home with my mother briefly in Redding, Calif. and; later, living in a small cabin we built on my Aunt's property. Both my mother and aunt were good home country cooks. Virginia's first lessons came from them.
As time went by Virginia, or Jimmy as I called her, took a sincere interest in the preparation of food. I encouraged her by supplying the appetite and many recipe books. Finally our mutual interest in the subject led us beyond the norm. As a child I was considered a "picky" eater. There were so many foods I would not eat. What wasn't understood at the time was that I had severe food allergies. I have been saddled with them ever since. It is a running tease in my family and among my friends that I will not eat anything 'green.' And, factually, most green things with few exceptions (lettuce, peas) make me ill. But, as I explored the world of food with Virginia, I found I could eat a great variety of foods of any ethnic origin.
In the 1970s we founded a club called the Afro-American -Irish-Mexican Meeting and Eating Society. About every other month members would gather at a friend's home and we would have a pot luck dinner. I was the president/dictator and the rules were simple: bring enough food for your family, your own beverages, and bring a friend if you like who can also become a member if he/she is compatible. The variety of foods shared at these dinners was astronomical, of every ethnic origin, and the gathering of friends was delightful. This club became so popular that many members just could not host the dinners at their own home. Too many people. One of the last dinners Virginia and I hosted was held at a downtown hall that we had to rent to accommodate everyone. The club collapsed of its own popularity.
Virginia eventually became a gourmet chef. She could prepare meals that were derived from most any country. She could make from scratch everything from Chines char chi bau, re-fried beans, tamales, baklava and Vietnamese pastries to Turkish stuffed cabbage rolls and southern fried pies. We continually investigated the world of food and at one point we decided to eat our way through the phone book yellow pages. We started with such "A" restaurants as the Asian Cafe and the Alhambra Bowling Alley, visiting 4-star places along the way. An exciting adventure. We dined in fabulous places when we traveled such as the top of the Space Needle in Seattle, the Jewish restaurant in the old City of Paris in San Francisco, the spots in the French Quarter of New Orleans, and the great German restaurants in her home city of Cincinnati. I will always have the great memories of our adventures together in the world of food. But - - I still won't eat anything green - - - -
I'm just sayin'

Celebreties

2011-01-29T10:39:00.000-08:00

I am a star-struck celebrity fan. Since childhood I have always been impressed by the famous. And, during a long life I have bumped into a few (sometimes literally). I remember the first famous person I recognized. It was Pres. Herbert Hoover. He had just lost an election and was visiting our town, Grass Valley, Calif. I was a lad of about 9 yrs. and spent most summer days in the city park where I could swim in the public pool. On this particular day I noticed several vans parking along the roadway into the park. They were news vans, like Pathe News, which carried movie photographers to film events of interest to moviegoers. The photographers set up their cameras (2 reel, hand-cranked) on tall tripods on the roof tops of the vans. So, I naturally hung out nearby to see what was going to happen. In time an auto cavalcade arrived with the president riding in an open 4-door car in the lead. As it moved slowly along the roadway I began to run alongside the car, waving my arms for the cameras, like any boy would do. I am sure I was seen across the nation when the event was shown that week in local theaters.
The California State Fair was a great place to see celebrities. As my wife and I left the park at closing time we were walking between two large display buildings and saw a figure approaching. It was Leo Carrillo, a famous Mexican actor who starred in the TV series "The Cisco Kid." We had just watched him display his horsemanship in some daring rides at the racetrack arena in a special show. I greeted him and thanked him for such a fine performance and he chatted with us for awhile.
Also at the fair one morn my wife, my sons and I were early birds and among the first to enter the Counties Building where each county displayed its wares. As we approached the first booth we saw a group of men already there. It was the governor of California, Pat Brown, father of our present newly elected governor, and a group of reporters. They turned as we approached and Pat bent over towards my son Kenneth and asked "Do you know who I am?" Kennie was about 7 yrs. old. He quickly replied "Yes, Sir, you are the governor." They were all impressed and some newsmen took his name.
Other presidents I have seen include John F. Kennedy, who made a speech from the back of a train along the tracks near Broadway in Sacramento. I heard he was to be there and hurried to gain a vantage point. There was something about John F. that was inexplicable. A sort of aura that he projected when he spoke. I was captivated and became a devoted Kennedy supporter. I also attended a 'back of train' speech by Harry H. Truman, who spoke of his connections via land holdings in the Sacramento area. The Dwight D. Eisenhower that I met was not yet president; he was a General in command of the European invasion of WWII. I was a mere private on guard who stopped his command car as it left a parking area. His license plate which displayed 5 stars was covered at the time or I would have simply saluted as it left. I quickly recognized him, saluted and waved his driver on. I also saw Lyndon Johnson when he visited Sacramento. His cavalcade of autos came from Executive airport directly through my mail route. I knew when he was due (I had watched secret service men being posted on the nearby rooftops) so I hurried a couple of blocks away to get my mother and my wife who were at the laundromat we owned. We stood by as his cavalcade passed and I took photos.
The celebs I bumped into were always professional fighters. I did so a couple of times with Buddy Baer, a huge heavyweight fighter and brother to world champion Max Baer (Max's son was a star on the TV series "Beverly Hill Billies,"). I bumped into him first at the Alhambra theatre (since torn down) as I left the candy counter. A second time was not actually a bump but I asked the large man who paused in front of my seat at the ball game to please move on. It was Buddy and I immediately apologized. Hey, I am 5' 6" and not a fighter. I also literally bumped into Joe Louis, heavyweight champion of the world. It was during the war and I was leaving the line where one rinsed out one's mess kit after dinner and turned right into the champ. He was accompanied by the original Sugar Ray Robinson, who stepped forward as if to protect the champion. Again I apologized and Joe smiled his acceptance. This has to be an inherited trait - - bumping into the famous - - because my mother once pushed open the doorway of a lunchroom and stepped into the arms of Jimmy Stewart, the actor. He was in the Air Force and stationed at nearby Mather Field during the war. So - - not my fault - - -'
I'm just sayin -

Time, Where Does It Go?

2011-01-28T11:02:00.000-08:00

I cannot believe that it has been so long since I posted. The intervening months have been spent trying to correct a vision problem. Here is the story: years ago I had a cataract removed from my dominant right eye. At the time there was also a beginning cataract in the left eye. I did not bother to have it removed as it was not a problem. Since birth I had an eye condition that did not allow my eyes to focus together; so, I mainly relied on the right eye and would automatically switch to the left when it became tired. A strange malady that was a problem when I was a pre-med student. In class we had to use a microscope and when measuring something on a specimen slide one needs to use one eye, looking through the scope, and the other other looking at the slide with adjacent ruler. I could not do this. I could either see through the scope or look at the slide on the scope platform. Could not see them together. The thing is as time went be in my elder years the neglected cataract in my left eye began to be invaded by blood vessels. This caused an infection which the family doctor could not cure. A visit to specialists revealed the problem and surgery was needed to save the eye itself. All was successful, but I now have only the right eye to use. The left has vision but no lens so all is out of focus. I realize this is more than you wanted to know, but I needed to post it for those who actually question me about my vision.

There is a permanent blanket of fog over our city. This is miserable weather. They say that fog comes about because of dirty air - - each droplet surrounding a dirt particle. I am not sure that is true. I have seen fog out in the boondocks where no human lives and there are no autos and such to pollute the air. But if we are experiencing global warming then this valley is in a protected spot. I don't believe in global warming. That is not the man-made kind that Al Gore preaches. I think our weather changes come about as part of the great cycles that embrace the earth over the eons. Ice ages come and go. Fertile lands become deserts and then revert. So, stay out of it, Al.

I'm just sayin'

Good Dog Days of Summer

2009-07-11T11:52:00.000-07:00

July burst upon us like fireworks. The day after Independence Day I was delighted to officiate at my grandson’s wedding. Handsome, young Kenneth E. Cochrane, III was wed to the beautiful Miss Melissa Bricker at a chapel in Newcastle, Calif. More than one hundred guests, family and friends, were in attendance. The day was perfect with temperatures in the mid-80s and a gentle breeze blowing as the ceremony was held outdoors. Photos have been posted on the MyFamily.com page and potential members can gain access by contacting me at 2377cochranek@comcast.net

Since this is the month of my birth I became self indulgent and bought myself a gift. I purchased an electronic book reader called the Kindle. This is an amazing device that is produced by Amazon.com. It is a slim hand held, light weight product that can hold hundreds of books in its memory that are downloaded from the internet. It is connected to Amazon by using the Sprint cell phone technology, which allows one to access the huge library of electronic books held by that company for possible purchase and downloading to the Kindle, and with no access fee. Each page of a book appears on the Kindle’s screen, one after the other, by the simple touch of a side control key. The screen is designed to be glare proof and is not back-lit like a computer (which is hard on the eyes) but works by using a magnetic system like an etch-a-sketch which forms the page duplication in many shades of grey-to-black. It is like reading a newspaper or an actual printed book. The Kindle even remembers where you left off in a book and will take you to that spot automatically whenever you want to continue. Electronic books from Amazon cost from ‘free’ to $9.95 for selections from the New York Times best seller list. Downloading a book takes about 60 seconds and there is no extra charge beyond the book’s price.

This modern miracle is so light and small enough to fit in a purse or jacket pocket that it enables one to carry a huge library along on any trip, to the local market or to Europe. It is powered by special batteries that permit one to read for 4 days or more without recharging. The recharging is done with a provided adapter and cord, which also can be used to connect with one’s computer. You can carry your library with you to enjoy a read in the park, at the beach or while dining in a restaurant. It works anywhere your cell phone does. To learn more about this product go to Amazon.com for complete descriptions and even a video showing how it works.

This week we also had a huge pine tree in our front yard cut down. A couple of tree climbers with chain saws made quick work of the job. The old tree had been planted years ago too close to the house. It’s limbs were dying and dropping debris on the roof and the root system was becoming a threat to underground plumbing and a potential danger to the home’s foundation. So now new morning light is coming to our kitchen while the other many trees we have provide shade and protection from the afternoon sun.
Our July weather has been mild so far. My son's Yorkies, Jake and Elwood, have romped and played in the back yard; and, in sports, the ’boys of summer’ provide exciting baseball games across the land. Last night my favorite team the San Francisco Giants enjoyed a spectacular performance by a rookie pitcher who completed a “no hitter” to establish his name in the team’s history of great games. It was an emotional moment that was documented in today’s newspapers.
August may bring some more welcome surprises and happy events. I may be an optimist and expect too much but I think each day is exciting and a great day for America.

I am “Just Sayin’”

Joys of June

2009-06-18T11:21:00.000-07:00

I have been busy the past week moving things into a new room, added to my single room living quarters. This addition has become available as my grandson Kenneth III moved into his new apartment, in preparation for beginning a new life as a married man. Kenneth will wed Melissa Bricker, a beautiful young lady who is employed with a Christian Radio broadcasting station. They will wed in Newcastle, Calif. on July 5th and I have been honored as their choice to officiate the ceremony. While I rejoice at their happiness I will miss having Kenneth around on a daily basis. The extra living space is small recompense for this loss.

As an adjunct to the moving process I have discovered several treasures that had remained hidden in the deep recesses of dark closets and under piles of books and notebooks that have cluttered the floor of my single room abode. Treasures such as forgotten family photos (a couple of which I have posted on MyFamily site). Also found were diaries and journals that detailed the events of earlier days. There were outdated magazines and clothes to be thrown away or donated. It has been an exciting but taxing chore and I am not finished yet.

My son Kennie and grandson Glenn traveled a few miles south last evening to visit my niece Lisa Machado. Lisa has been fighting a long, long battle with breast cancer. Through several years of treatment she has remained strong, courageous and of good cheer. Earlier this year she traveled to China with her sister Leslie and visited the Great Wall. She is now planning a short cruise. She values every day and is a sparkling example of the strength and beauty of the human soul. We should all help in the fight against this and other life threatening diseases. Donations help in the modern research that will find cures.

In spite of the dire threats of global warming our central valleys in California have enjoyed beautiful and mild spring weather. Daily sprinkles and showers have graced our foothills and pleasant temperatures have beckoned folks outdoors. We give thanks for the blessings bestowed. Horrid headlines notwithstanding there are some good things going on. I am

Just Sayin’

May Has Flown

2009-06-09T11:16:00.000-07:00

I haven’t published in almost a month. My blog should be like a journal but I seem to think of it late in each day and I don’t function as well in the evening. Certainly not with any literary skills. Evenings are devoted to TV - - - a national habit, I suppose. However, there were some significant events worth mentioning in the last few weeks.
The first event to impact our personal lives was an accident suffered by my son Kennie, Jr. He commonly rides his bicycle to work each morn, mainly for the exercise. And, about a month ago while circling to await a light change he took a header, landing awkwardly on his right shoulder. The fall bruised him well and separated his shoulder severely. His doctor felt that surgery was not necessary and the injury would heal in time. Thus, he has been wrestling with a sling-harness for some time. After the initial days of pain he has been healing well and now only uses the harness during work hours. He has learned to manipulate things with his left hand and last night he ventured to the gym for a work out on the tread mill. He has always been athletic and this leisure pace forced upon him has been his largest headache. His surfing weekends at his home in Dillon Beach have been reduced to long walks on the beach and grinding tours up the steep hills. But, full recovery is now in sight and he looks forward to swimming with the Great Whites again soon.

My daughter Andrea was able to sneak a vacation from her grueling schedule and visit me from Utah in May. We spent a week of relaxing and trading family gossip. We also managed to test the local eateries - - - dining in eclectic manner from truck-stop fry cooking fare to the elegance of a 4-star restaurant. Andrea took the time to teach me about her new Kindle, an electronic marvel that allows one to read books that are reproduced on a screen that you can hold in your hand. The marvel is that the Kindle feels like a real book, turns pages with a flick of the finger, has a no-glare screen that uses a magnetically managed page reproduction which makes the experience like reading an actual book instead of suffering a computer screen presentation and it weighs about 10 ounces. You can put it in your coat pocket. It also will hold hundreds of books in memory that can be brought to the screen with a touch of the key board You carry a library with you!. These books are easily downloadable from Amazon with prices ranging from free to $9.95 for New York Times best-sellers lists. Once purchased or down loaded they remain yours forever, kept by Amazon in your account for free. The Kindle works like a cell phone so you can access the web wherever that service is available without charge. Otherwise it works on its batteries which are rechargeable and last when on for at least 4 days reading on a single charge. As you can tell - - - I am a big fan of this device. Did I mention that it keeps your place in a book when you pause your reading? And, if you like it will present you each morn with your favorite newspaper to leaf through with a simple subscription fee.

Planning is in the final stages for my grandson Kenneth III’s wedding on July 5th to Melissa Bricker in Newcastle, Calif. Kenneth has shared this Sacramento home with his father and I for the past few years. He will be moving to a new apartment this week as he prepares to begin his new adventure as a married man. I have been honored to serve as the minister for Kenneth and Melissa’s marriage ceremony.
The weather in June has been strange and exciting as we endured a rare thunder storm that lit our city with multiple lightning strikes. The accompanying rain was appreciated. Now a stationary weather low is bringing cool delta breezes and moderate temperatures in the 70s to our valley. Perhaps this is a harbinger of a moderate summer as well. We will greet it with delight.

Just Sayin’

Blogger Blues

2009-05-20T12:28:00.000-07:00

I am a poor blogger (is that a word?). As I read other web blogs I am envious of the ease with how the writers seem to just let the words flow. It is like listening to them speak with you in conversation. And, I am sure, that is what a blog is supposed to be. I, in contrast, seem to feel that I should tackle important worldly subjects. Wars, Taxes, Health, Weather, and Disasters. I suppose that is the teacher coming out. Well, I would really like to change that. Opinions are one thing but lectures are another. So, with your kind permission, I will henceforth try to relate my encounters in daily life. Maybe rant a little when things bug me; perhaps share some happy moments; wander a bit and discourse on the mysteries we all meet with and the challenges we face.

Tomorrow my daughter Andrea will arrive for a short visit. All her visits are way too short. We need a Super Train like the Japanese have to bridge the distance between our homes. Airplanes are faster, but travel by air is such a hassle now. The Bush terrorist phobia has taken away our freedom to enjoy. Who wants to live in a society that says you can’t bring your body lotion or your shaving cream with you on a trip. Freedom always poses a risk - - - but Americans have always been willing to pay that price. It was stated precisely by Patrick Henry when he spoke the words “Give me Liberty or give me Death.” But, Andrea will brave the indignity of a body scan, remove her shoes, allow her personal belongings to be x-rayed, provide federally mandated identity papers and wait an hour or so beforehand before being allowed, under parole, to join strangers in a plane with recirculated air and extra charge amenities. However, she will get a free demonstration of how to use her seat cushion as a flotation device, although she will not be flying over any water. Her baggage will be mishandled and, if it arrives, she will have to push her way to the baggage turntable to make sure she can grab what’s left. The bag, suitcase, or whatever will be covered with identity cards that no one will check when she leaves the terminal. Fortunately there may be a shuttle bus waiting that she can board that will bring her to me. If a friend or relative were to pick her up he/she would have to circle the curbside loading area until she appeared or park in an expensive zone at least two blocks from the terminal. Not my idea of a way to begin a short vacation. So, there I have ranted a bit.

We will have lots to talk about. The minutiae of our daily lives; the family gossip; new friends we met and new things we acquired. I am eager to see her new Kindle, an electronic marvel of the world of books. She will introduce me to the wonders of the Ipod as I am of an older generation electronic age. I was among the first with TV, with personal computing, and electric shaving; but, I now lag behind the latest innovations. I have enough problems trying to tackle MySpace, Facebook, and now Twitter. We will also enjoy dining out together as we sample some of the area’s remaining eateries. Yes, the recession has taken a toll there, too. I am excited about her visit and maybe we can blog and twitter together for you tomorrow. I am - - - -

Just Sayin’

Media Fears

2009-04-30T12:36:00.000-07:00

The current fear topic dominating the media is Swine Flu. This topic of “fear” is not meant to belittle the legitimate concerns of medical professionals or those of the public at large. But it hopes to point out that the blatant headlines and feature stories capping the television news programs are usually those that spread doom, disaster and depression across the land. One need take a view from afar of such exclamatory news flashes and viewer enticing tales.

I have lived long enough to remember the bold headlines in the 30s that detailed the crash of the stock market and the newsboys cries of horror on Wall Street as he peddled the morning papers. So mesmerizing was the fear spreading across the nation that people committed suicide rather than face the future. Those victims who found their stock dropping to ridiculous lows should have held on a couple of years and lived to enjoy the rich rewards that followed. Fear multiplies itself. It is worse than any invading virus can be in the effect upon lives and fortunes. And, usually, we find our worst fears are as ephemeral as ghosts. There are 15 New Cases of Swine Flu in California cries out the morning headline. Wow! Following story doesn’t bother to mention that it is flu season and we can expect thousands of cases of some kind of flu. Actually the cases mentioned were of those who had only mild symptoms and all recovered. Sore throats and stuffy noses. The many deaths in Mexico reported were not all connected to the virus.

I also remember the terror that swept the northeastern states when a radio broadcast meant to present a fictional drama by Orson Wells caused a panic. His dramatic weekly episode featured an invasion of earth by Martians. And at least twice during the broadcast it was stated that the presentation was fiction. I actually listened to that broadcast and thoroughly enjoyed it. But, many people packed up and fled their homes in terror.

In the 1960s or 70s there was the warning spread across the nation by the media that a substance found in cranberries could cause cancer. Did this help anyone? No, but it virtually put those who depended on producing and selling cranberries out of business. The warning turned out to be an exaggeration of test findings.

What about the slow death that was promised those who lived in houses invaded by the deadly gas radon? Yes, this earth element was seeping into homes and threatening lives; and, almost every home had its presence. It was advised that you should have your home tested. Again, people reacted to the fear headlines.

Here in Sacramento the media began the fear mongering of the danger of earthquakes. Playing off the quakes that shook the Bay Area, a program of quake-proofing our public schools and buildings was begun. Who profited? Contractors, of course. I watched some beautiful buildings be torn down and replaced by hum-drum squat buildings, taking away some beauty of our city. Well, after spending over ¾ of a century in this city I have experienced only one handful of earthquakes. Damage done? Some cans fell off grocery shelves and out of home cupboards. We live in a flat valley with no fault lines below and a river bottom of hard clay as our foundation. I know about earthquakes elsewhere as I lived on top of some in Southern California and near an active volcano in the north. I don’t worry about earthquakes in Sacramento.

Our current fears are encouraged to grow by the present flu scare and of course the danger of drowning in super floods. Yes, we have floods here and need to keep our levies repaired. But, watch out for that 100 year flood that will turn us all into Noahs. The media is slacking off now about floods because summer is approaching; so, we begin the draught fears. There may be snow in the mountains but tests show that it is the low-water bearing kind. (?) Folsom lake is very low now. Why is that scary? I remember walking across that land before the lake was formed. Can’t get any lower than that. I also can travel a short distance and watch two great rivers come together after flowing through our city. They have been doing that since before the days of the first American explorers reached our valley. Water shortage? I hear it every year. We should pay normal attention to all these valid concerns but “fear,” I am - - - - -
Just Sayin'

A View of Sports

2009-04-13T12:29:00.000-07:00

I recently wrote of my lifetime love of sports but neglected to elucidate on my own view of what I consider to be true sports. I think my own evaluation of whether a pastime is a sport or just a game is based on whether or not there is a physical competition in play that comprises an athletic ability of some serious kind. The competition need not be restricted to competing against others but could be against oneself as in a timed event or an athletic ‘best.”

Within those parameters then I do not consider Golf a sport. It is a game. You try to hit the ball to a certain area and get it in a hole in the fewest amount of club swings. It can be played sufficiently well by anyone - - whether 90 yrs. old or a pre-teen. Jack Nicholson could still beat any average golfer. My grandson was a serious player at the age of 9 yrs. You can be fat (some pro golfers are) or tiny as some young women are who play with the pros. No athletic prowess is required.

Bowling is not a sport. It is a game. The fact that one may compete against others does not make it a sport. I was on a bowling team that included a man in his late 80s and he did very well. Children can bowl in competition.

The same criteria apply to games such as curling, pancake racing, dart board, pinball, horse shoes, chess and checkers. You may be a champion at any of these or the world’s best; however, you are not necessarily an athlete or participating in a sport.

By the same token I do count as sports the following: marathon running; track and field events; weight lifting; most Scottish Games events; bicycle racing; NASCAR racing; ping pong; volley ball; and, events that require athletic ability to be good at the sport. Some, such as professional wrestling, I consider sports even though they are merely exhibitions. Like tumbling and acrobatics it requires great athletic skill to perform. And I do consider hockey a sport although I sometimes wonder why the rules permit the violence of fist-fighting while other respectable sports severely punish such infractions. In basketball and even football such encounters require immediate rejection from the contest accompanied by monetary fines. But, there is no doubt that to play hockey professionally one must be very athletic. In the photo above is a classic example of a legend in that sport. Claude Lemieux, a New Jersey player who has returned to this sport at the age of 43 and was the participant in 3 Stanley Cup championships. He may not be pretty to look at but he is still a wonder to watch on the ice. Maybe they should wear boxing gloves instead of hockey gloves but - - - I am

Just Sayin’

Sports Mania

2009-04-07T11:52:00.000-07:00

I am a sports fan. But, apparently, most Americans are also. I watched on TV the NCAA college basketball tournament each day as the field of 64 was narrowed down to the “Final Four” and then the championship game on Monday night, April 6th when the University of North Carolina “Tar Heels” defeated the “Spartans” of Michigan State. Present at this game were about 73,000 fans. That’s more than the population of a great many cities in the U.S. It is more than three times the population of the city I moved from in Arizona, and I thought that place was getting crowded.

My love affair with sports began when I was in grade school and played soccer and soft ball. I was small and fast and found I could compete in those sports as well as track events. Then I began to see the great prize fights of the day when title fights were shown on screen during the Saturday movie matinees. Does anyone still remember the double feature movies, the cartoons, and the Flash Gordon spaceman weekly chapters offered each Saturday for the price of one dime? I listened to radio broadcasts of boxing matches from the early Joe Louis contests until the present. I also attended wrestling matches from the age of 7 on Monday nights at the Memorial Auditorium in Sacramento. It took awhile for me to realize that these were actually just exhibitions of athleticism.

My sports interests grew and eventually included most categories. With the advent of television I was able to watch pro football and basketball games; the college teams competing in all sports and became a devoted fan of soccer (called football in the rest of the world) and the teams in Britain’s Premier League and the leagues in Germany, France and Spain. Sports events put life on the big stage, providing (as TV has often put it) the triumph of victory and the tragedy of defeat. We can follow and become emotionally attached to the teams or individuals that compete. As in the basketball tournament mentioned above, I became a fan and follower of the teams from North Carolina and Duke Universities many years ago. Perhaps because I was an extension student of No. Carolina and had a friend who graduated from Duke. I remember sending a “Tar Heel” team cap to my daughter once who thought it was “cool.”

Crowds of 75,000 to 90,000 plus are not unusual in attendance at college football games. Major league baseball attracts 30,000 and up for games that are played almost daily. The big events such as the Kentucky Derby ( I attended in 1943), the Masters golf tournament, the Super Bowl, pro-basketball championship, NASCAR championship, the Indy 500, and other title events are always sold out. Pay-for-Vue now rakes in millions for title boxing matches, the martial arts competitions, and selected premium events. Yes, there is a sports mania across America. Maybe not everyone is so involved but I am
Just Sayin’

Nothing to Sneeze At

2009-03-05T11:48:00.000-08:00

I have written about my strange food allergies before. Briefly again: I get ill when eating most any vegetable that is green. There are minor exceptions such as lettuce or green beans and green peas. It is legendary in my family that “Grandpa won’t eat green things!“ Also on the allergy list are most sea foods or others with a fish taste. As a child I was just considered a ‘picky eater.” Allergies were not popularly known or appreciated. Today it seems they are pandemic. We are deluged with drug advertisements on TV and in other media that promise relief. Often the drug side affects are more frightening than the relief you seek.

I can think of only two other allergies that I may have. One is peculiar in that it causes me to sneeze 3 times in a row and rarely a 4th time! This happens when I feel a sudden chill on the back of my neck. Not like when you watch a scary movie and something frightening is about to happen; but, when the nape of the neck actually becomes cool for one reason or another. Most often it occurs when I step out of the morning shower. It can happen when the air conditioner comes on or when I happen to encounter a breeze. The most unusual occasion of its onset came when I was vacationing in Hawaii. I had a reservation to attend the Don Ho dinner show one evening and as I and my party stepped off the elevator a young Hawaian lady placed a lei of small blossoms around my neck. Soon after we were seated I began the 3 sneeze routine. My cousin asked if I was O.K. and I said that I felt fine but sometimes had this peculiar allergy and explained it. She laughed and said “Well you have that damp lei around your neck.” Yes, that was the culprit. An awkward moment but it was relieved later when Don Ho asked if there were any WWII veterans in the house and would they please stand up. I did; was the only veteran - - so he applauded and sent a bottle of champagne to our table.

The only other allergy I recall suffering came a few years ago when I attended a Country Line-Dance performance that my sister was participating in at the city park in Lodi, Calif. As I was watching from a folding chair on the park lawn I began sneezing and my eyes began stinging and watering. Finally I had to leave. My sister caught up with me as I walked towards the car a few blocks away. We decided that the falling blossoms from the park Cottonwood trees were the cause. They floated everywhere in the area. And, sure enough, as we increased our distance from that place my discomfort lessened and quit.

Strangely enough I have never experienced any other symptoms of allergy. Even as a child I have been able to handle poison oak or ivy and its threatening compounds without an itch or a blemish. Contrarily, my mother could become deathly ill by coming within 10 feet of these plants. Several times so seriously ill that she was hospitalized. Perhaps I gained genetic immunity from her trials with these beautiful plants. Mosquito bites, spider bites, bee or wasp stings have little effect on me. Last year I was bitten by a Black Widow and it only caused a minor skin irritation. My immunity shot for small pox as an infant left no scar that is usually present on the arm of those inoculated. And later booster shots in the army left no evidence of the need. So - - I have been very lucky. Such allergies as listed above may provide a source of humor to the unaffected, but for those who have them - - -it is no joke - - I am
Just Sayin’

Amazing Free Offer by Andrea - - But Odd

2009-03-02T12:23:00.000-08:00

Below is today's posting by my daughter Andrea. She is also at the left in photo with her sister and my other beautiful daughter Meaghan posing on the Fair Oaks River bridge.

*Voiceofangel*
Monday, March 2, 2009

Free! .. ?
Free Give-Away!!What free?!?Here's how it works...The first four people to comment on this post will get something from me, made by me. My choice--but just for you.This offer does have some restrictions and limitations:1. I make no guarantees that you will like what I give!2. What I create will be just for you.3. It will be done this year (hopefully, even this month!!!)4. You have no clue what it's going to be. It may be a story. It may be poetry or an article. I may draw or paint something. I may bake you something and mail it to you. Who knows? Not you, that's for sure!5. I reserve the right to do something extremely strange.The catch? Oh, the catch is that you must re-post this on your blog.The first 4 people to do so and leave a comment telling me you did, will win a marvelous homemade gift by me!Let the games begin!Oh, and I have to be able to contact you with mailing information!Good Luck to all!Ah, reposting things.. I did this in order to win something from my aunt, possibly. I hope I get whatever it is she decides I have if I happened to be one of the first four. And if any of you comment on this.. damn. :D
Posted by voiceofangel at 2:07 AM 0 comments

Don't Fool With Mother Nature!

2009-03-02T12:03:00.000-08:00

I was concerned by TV news reports yesterday that two NFL football players along with two friends who played in Florida were missing after failing to return from a fishing trip in the seas of the Florida gulf. One of the men, Marquis Cooper, was owner of the boat. Marquis was a former San Francisco 49er linebacker and currently plays for the Oakland Raiders. The other pro-player is Corey Smith, a defensive end for the Detroit Lions. The men left Saturday morning, Feb. 28th on a fishing trip in a 21 foot vessel and failed to return to the dock where they left a vehicle and boat trailer. Shortly after their departure a storm system moved into the gulf, producing high waves and strong winds. The U.S. Coast Guard has begun a search.

Through the years I have had occasions to be acquainted with the dangers provided by nature’s force in storm, flood, fire and earthquake.. They taught me to have a healthy and definite respect for such threats. As a child I once found myself adrift in the river on an inflated automobile inner tube. While family members enjoyed a picnic on the beach I sailed downriver lying on my back across this rubber raft. The problem was that no one missed me and I was too far away to cry for help. I somehow managed to slip inside the tube’s circle and support myself while trying to touch bottom. Eventually the slow current let me paddle towards shore and my toes to touch the river’s silt bottom. I was a lucky 7 year old. Flirting with the American River seemed to be a habit for me. It was there I learned to swim in one day - - when my cousins from the Fair Oaks area tossed me from an embankment into the river to swim or sink. That was their loving way to teach me how to survive in water. It worked. Desperate people achieve amazing results. I was about 9 at the time and later in my teen age years I pulled a few frantic vacationers from peril at the same location. I had enhanced my skills as a swimmer by then.

An experience with the ocean’s fury came during the war years when I made a crossing in a Liberty troop ship from New York to Great Britain. We limped into port with a 30 degree list after being battered by an Atlantic storm. What I mostly remember is how I was able to enjoy the voyage without sea-sickness. Most everyone I knew aboard became deathly ill. But I, as one who suffered car sickness after every trip longer than 5 miles, was completely unaffected. I was happy to lie on top deck and watch the horizon rise and fall with each wave. I must assume that my early problems with auto travel were due to the fumes from the exhaust systems in those vehicles as I spent the time in the back seat. I have fished in small lakes when the water was rough and found my discomfort was not from sickness but from the cold and wet of the sport - - trying to catch fish I would never eat. What will we not suffer for friendship? Other annoying encounters with the ocean include being slammed to the bottom by the legendary 9th wave. If you come up you are coughing and gasping for air, trying to rid yourself of the salt water you swallowed. My son and grandson cannot get enough of this. They enjoy testing their survival instincts every weekend by surfing the big waves off the Pacific coast. During this enjoyment, my son has rubbed shoulders with passing whales, helped rescue other surfers from serious encounters with Great White sharks; and, suffered concussions from flying surf boards as he fought to emerge from heavy wave battering. Yet yesterday eve he returned to his Sacramento home, bubbling with the excitement of a perfect surf that accompanied the current storm system that has reached us. Go figure.

Fire has also furnished a few thrills. The most serious was a grass fire started by two little boys playing with matches. My family and I were camping with friends at Hogan’s Dam in central California when I noticed smoke rising from the wild wheat fields that surrounded our campsite. I and a friend raced to the spot and started beating at the flames with blankets, trying to smother the spreading fire. It was nip and tuck for several minutes but we finally gained control as a forest service truck arrived to help. These arid fields were also dotted with old oak trees and the entire campground would have been destroyed in only a short time had we failed. I have put out fires in kitchen ovens often. Once my mother opened an oven door on a gas stove to check on baking food and the pilot light had failed. The resultant accumulation of gas was ignited by the stove top burners and exploded, tossing mother across the room and burning her face and arms. Fortunately the blast put out its own flames and only caused minor injury. She did lose her eyebrows for a while.

Beautiful snow can also be hazardous to your health. Frostbite, snow blindness, loss of direction, avalanche and hidden dangers buried in drifts can change your life. I spent too many hours in snow country. I did not like it. It was also in the High Sierras that I learned to endure that elevator stomach feeling when most every day brought an earthquake because of looming Mt. Lassen, our close neighboring volcano. I have watched as the ground swell, like an ocean wave, raced to and under us with a low moan.

We are all held in awe by nature’s wonder and beauty. The crashing waves and surf along our coastlines; the glistening snow that brings a catch to your breath as you view it; the thrilling sports that beckon and enthrall us, the wonder of a natural fire as nature tries to cleanse itself, and the beckoning of our great oceans that offer food and adventure have become the joys of our experience in life; but also, have too often brought tragedy and grief to others and their families. We pray for the missing fishermen and send positive thoughts to their families. This earth is a jewel to be explored and enjoyed, so please do participate and be active in discovering all its riches - - but I am - - -
Just sayin’

Just a Surfer Dude and Road Rat

2009-02-23T12:29:00.000-08:00

Sean Penn
The 81st Academy Awards show was presented last night. It was one of the better ones I have viewed over the years. Acceptance speeches were limited in length and we weren’t held captive to view the awards for best assistant to the catering chef. Homage was paid to past winners and performers and previous winners were featured as presenters. The host was not a comedian but an actor who excelled in his command of the affair. And best of all, some deserving actors were the winners.

Chosen as the best performance by a leading actor was Sean Penn. Here is a dedicated, hard working actor who is an enigma to most everyone, friend and fan. His career has been a mixture of controversy and dispute. He grabbed early attention by his assault on the paparazzi who came too close for his comfort. This provided an example of his volatile nature. He has stated that he doesn’t like directors and most actors/actresses. In one instance he served jail time for attacking a film extra. He also said that the only legendary actor who didn’t disappoint him was Clint Eastwood.

But, contrarily, Sean is a humanitarian. I recall seeing him wading waist deep in the flood waters of New Orleans as he was among the earliest in trying to assist those in peril. Some time after the 9/11 tragedy he paid $56,000 to place an add in the Washington Post, asking President George Bush to slow his push for war in Iraq. He has visited Venezuela and African states on humanitarian missions.

Sean is the son of Leo Penn, actor and director, of Lithuanian and Russian descent, and actress Eileen Ryan, who appeared in one film as his grandmother. Leo was blacklisted during the McCarthy era investigations of communism in the movie industry for refusing to answer questions about his political beliefs. He had served as a bombardier in the Air Force during WWII. His own father was of Sephardic Jewish heritage with the surname Piñon. Leo and Eileen had two other sons: actor Chris Penn and musician Michael Penn. As a director Leo had credits in TV series shows such as Magnum P.I, Matlock, Kojak and episodes in many other popular series. He also appeared as an actor in these shows.

Sean was first married to musical star Madonna. He later described the marriage as “loud.” They were divorced in 1989. He was also briefly engaged to the sister of his good friend Bruce Springsteen, Pamela Springsteen. Both were in the movie “Fast Times at Ridgemont High.” Later in his life he had a daughter and a son with actress Robin Wright whom he later married. They moved their family to Marin county to raise their children outside the Hollywood environment.
Sean Penn puts everything into the characters he portrays on film. His choices are usually scripts that have a message of hope. He may appear to be a rebellious outcast but, I am - - -

Just sayin’

Let it Snow!

2009-02-16T16:06:00.000-08:00

It almost snowed in Sacramento last week! I know!! It never (well, hardly ever) snows in Sacramento. I remember a real, stay-on-the-ground snowfall in 1940. It was fun to walk around in and toss snowballs. But, actually, I don’t have great memories of fun in the snow. Here’s what I do remember.

As a grade school lad I lived in the northern Coast Range mountains of California in a plain pine board cabin that had survived the ‘49er days. For you youngsters that is 1849 goldminer days. My step-dad was a deep well driller and he was employed to dig a deep test shaft to find possible gold deposit ore. We had no place to live so when we passed this abandoned two room cabin nestled against a cliff by the roadside we stopped and moved in. It was mid-winter and we had to stuff the cracks between the side boards with newspaper to keep the cold out. My misery in the snow came when I had to walk about 2 miles along the treacherous one lane dirt road to and from a one-room school with about 15 students. I was the 3rd grade. The mining company that hired my step-dad added to my adventure by blasting into the mountain alongside the road from time to time. They would blow a loud steam whistle 5 mins. before blasting so anyone near could find shelter from falling debris. Crouching in the freezing snow to keep from being bombarded by rock is not a fun thing. I survived the winter with only one bout of pneumonia. But good things happened as well. You could view the beautiful Mount Shasta wearing its white mantel in the distance and directly to the east the peak of Mount Lassen, an active volcano, with a wisp of vapor crowning its top. And, my mother taught me how to make a poor man’s ice cream by adding milk, sugar and vanilla to a bowl full of snow and setting it outside for a few minutes.

I also dwelled in the Sierra Nevada mountains at the base of Mt. Lassen, a peak I climbed with my wife and sons and where we found that after a venture into the crater, lined at its crest with snow, it was quite warm from the lava buried below. Nearby close to the base of the peak there are bubbling hot springs. The snow gets deep in the surrounding area and the village of Mineral had few inhabitants in winter when the drifts can imprison one in his home. Frostbite is a common hazard. Keeping warm was a daily task. Only one hill provided a skiing slope that was used in the springtime by visiting college students. This was not my favorite winter resort. I did watch the skiers from the warmth of the Mineral Lodge while testing a hot toddy.
My relationship with snow was really tested during World War II when I spent a good deal of time living in foxholes buried in blankets of this stuff. I suffered severe frostbite to my toes and endured other unpleasant problems; like having to kick loose the slide action on my rifle that froze during the nights; being buried by overnight snowfall in outpost foxholes so that the relief guards couldn’t find me. Using an open slit trench as a latrine where that area was frozen slick with ice. Hazardous.

So, I do not find snow the appealing weather condition that provides enjoyment. I know that it is welcomed by many and encourages lots of holiday settings and sports that most probably enjoy, so it may snow in Sacramento but - - - - - I am
Just sayin’

Valentine Story # 2

2009-02-10T11:06:00.000-08:00

I met Karilyn in roundabout way. A family friend, Vivian Smothers, who had lived in Rio Linda, Calif. close to my home before moving away to Heyburn, Idaho gave me a call. She had married and after some problems moved back to California with her two sons to find work. She called soon after her return to let me know her whereabouts and to catch up on family news. I had been widowed for a few years and was delighted to hear from a friend. We chatted and I asked her to join me for lunch. She said that it might be difficult as she had a “terrible two” year old son. I laughed and said that children were never terrible and he would be welcome. She added that she also had a young woman with her who was going to care for her sons (she had two) while she worked. I told her to bring her along as well.

I chose a nearby Mexican restaurant called “The White Horse” that I knew served a variety of tasty ethnic meals that could offer something for everyone. And, when I arrived ahead of time I was astonished to find that this favorite dining spot had changed! It was now a Japanese restaurant. Seems I had been out of touch for awhile.
Vivian and child soon arrived accompanied by her child care assistant. I watched as they approached and we were introduced. Karilyn was a tall, blonde young lady with a very straight posture. She was wearing a light colored blouse and a blue paisley skirt as well as a brilliant wide smile that immediately captured your attention. In the ensuing conversation she seemed at ease and displayed intelligence and a quick wit. I was eager to catch up with all that happened to Vivian since her departure, so we lingered over lunch for awhile. At some point I mentioned how I had become almost a hermit, seldom venturing out except for family affairs and missed the frequent dine-out forays I had made in the city and surrounding areas. I said that now that Vivian was back in town I would love to have her join me in checking out the various eateries from time to time; and, then I ventured to Karilyn: “You, as well, I would like to double my opportunities to get out to dinner more frequently.” She smiled and said “Okay.” The strange coincidence of this first meeting is that it was St. Valentine’s Day.

After a few days I did invite Vivian to join me for dinner and a visit to a local club where my son was performing as lead guitarist with a rock-n-roll band. It was nice to get out for a change. A week or so later during an afternoon I got a call from Karilyn. She was right to the point. She said I had offered to take Vivian and her out to dinner but had not yet received her invitation. I had made the offer as the polite and proper thing to do but was delighted that she had accepted. Thus I arranged to pick her up at Vivian’s parent’s home in Rio Linda one evening and I took her to an unusual dining spot. The Red Baron at the Sacramento Executive Airport where as we dined we could watch the planes take off and land. This dinner lasted for four hours! We couldn’t stop talking. We had so much to share. She told me of her childhood, how she had spent her high school years in a body cast because of a life-threatening spinal condition that needed correction (thus the erect posture); how she had worked in the large potato shipping plants in Idaho; attended Brigham Young Univ. briefly; worked as an Au Pair with a prominent family in Connecticut (see note below); served as an office assistant in a Public Relations firm that handled celebrities in Salt Lake City, was employed in the office of an insurance company and was now recently employed as all-around office clerk for a refrigeration firm in our city. Note: An au pair lives with a host family for a short period of time, between 1 month and 2 years, and is primarily responsible for looking after the children and doing light housework. Au pair duties may include driving children to and from school or helping with homework. Au Pairs can help a family by providing flexible, affordable and live-in child care for around a thousand dollars a month. The host family of an au pair will provide room and board.

Karilyn was great company and I continued to badger her to dine out and I called on her at her work place often. My old Army buddy was Vivian’s father and he worked at the refrigeration company as well. He only knew me as “Scotty” and in conversation with Karilyn on their commute homeward he would talk of our times together. One day he mentioned that he thought “Scotty” was “falling for” her. She looked puzzled and said who is this “Scotty?” He replied “Well, he is Ken.” I do not know her reaction at that moment.

As time went by we began to date more often and eventually it was apparent that I had indeed “fallen for” this young lady. She was not put off by the attention but it was obvious that there were several barriers to a closer relationship. First there was the differences in religion. Karilyn was from parent’s who were descended from the earliest members of the Church of Jesus Christ Latter Day Saints. She was brought up steeped in the doctrines of her faith. I was a non-denominational minister. Further, I was a generation older and this would be a May-September romance. In long discussions about these problems we somehow found a middle ground or the decision that it didn’t matter. In time I asked her to marry me and offered a ring. She would only accept it as a “Maybe Ring.” In the meantime we traveled to Rupert, Idaho to visit with her family. I also fell immediately in love with them. What a delight to meet her vivacious, talented mother and to exchange war stories with her dad. The children were happy to crawl all over this stranger in their midst and to be staring at me close up at first dawn when I awoke in the morn. They ranged from toddler to college age; all bursting with bright intelligence and exuberance.
Back in Sacramento after dinner at my home late in December. Karilyn said “Do you remember your proposal?” I momentarily panicked and said “Yes.” A pause and then she said “I accept.” We were married the following week. It often pays to take a chance. We have two beautiful, lovely daughters and a strong intellectual son. While we are not still together I love them all and I’m
Just sayin’

Valentine Stories

2009-02-09T11:15:00.000-08:00

As Valentine’s Day approaches I thought it might be appropriate to tell the story of my own two marriages and how I met each of those young ladies. This is primarily done for the purpose of providing a record for any one of family or friends who are interested in family history or romance. Readers must remember that the following is from my own memory and any living person familiar with my history may have a differing view, memory or version. My meeting as a widower with the lady of my second marriage will follow in the next entry.

I met my first wife, Virginia Theresa Maue, in Cincinnati, Ohio in the summer of 1943 and the occasion was detailed in my publication of World War II correspondence “Love, Pain and the Whole Damn Thing.” This volume’s notes were written in the third person as it was the only way I could take an objective view; and, here is how I told it then:

Ken and three buddies had managed 5-day passes and, with an actual flip of a coin, decided to visit Cincinnati (The Queen City) instead of Indianapolis. They arrived there in time to celebrate Ken's birthday; and, after a quick survey of the city, they quickly learned from the local citizenry that the place to visit was "Coney Island," an amusement park on an island in the Ohio river (and parent company to the famous New York amusement center) close to the city. Thus, a visit to sample the fun was undertaken. Ken and his best friend, Keith Howe, were accompanied by two older fellows, who suggested they go in pairs, to facilitate the chance of meeting some girls.
It did not take the older lads long to meet and introduce themselves to two young ladies strolling the carnival area. Ken and Howie, both shy to the point of retardation, were not so fortunate. As they wandered aimlessly about, one of the afore-mentioned lads approached and explained that they had met two young girls, who were really "too young" girls. He (Wesley Fitzgerald) suggested that Ken and Howie, as a favor to both pairs, act as replacements. The suggestion shocked Ken, and his remarks were something to the effect that, "One just can't barge up and take over!"
To ease Ken's sensibilities, it was then proposed that Ken and Keith "happen" by and get properly introduced; whereupon, "Fitz" and the other soldier would state that they were going to go fetch some soft drinks. Once gone - - - they would never return! This plan was put into action, and it worked perfectly. After waiting the polite and obligatory amount of time, the newly introduced couples proceeded to explore and enjoy the rides and food of the amusement park together. The girls gave their ages as 16 (they lied!), and dates were made for a later week-end. This unusual meeting provides the following story, as told by the volumes of correspondence that ensued. Such are the lots that Fate casts to spell our fortunes.

This same week-end provided the opportunity for Ken to meet two other girls of the city. One, Geneva Land, he also met at Coney Island. She was older than Ken, seemed sophisticated, beautiful, brunette, bought him a birthday gift, and appeared immediately interested. He was intrigued and flattered. The other, Emelia Manocchi, was also beautiful; but, in contrast, blonde, sixteen, and seemingly helpless and needful of a strong protector. Ken was captivated. For the moment, he was enthralled by these two new friends. Virginia Theresa Maue was, at the time, an enigma. She was shy and yet strong, joyous in her appreciation of the excitement offered by the park, and yet seeming somehow to be hiding a great sorrow. So tiny, and yet so vital and lively. Something insisted that he know her better, and thus his offer to write her. But, in the meantime, there were other fish to fry. However, that "something" was already at work, and in the ensuing days it became apparent that this diminutive lass was going to crowd out his feelings for the other two. It would become no contest. He was confused at first, reluctant to let go of his relationship with Geneva, and astonished at the intensity of feeling displayed by Emelia. But he was overwhelmed by the emotions evoked by his "Jimmie."

Ken knew early on that Jimmie was the one he loved intensely; that he had to shed his attachment to the others. But, how was this caring and sensitive lad to sever these ties without causing pain? He did not find it easy, and continued to procrastinate and keep alive the friendships, hoping for an easy solution. One of life's most difficult lessons was still to be learned. Perhaps it never would be. Where the heart is involved, hurt is often nearby.

Ken and Virginia were married in Cincinnati about 6 weeks after his return from 3 yrs. of service overseas.

Did your spouse, father, or grandfather propose marriage in a romantic location or in a unique way? Is there a funny story of how grandpa finally won grandma's heart? Or vice versa? How did you meet your sweetheart? These are the stories that typically can't be found in records. Take a few moments to document them so that future generations will know the story too. Have a happy Valentine's Day!

Murder in Malmedy

2009-02-06T14:26:00.000-08:00

The day was gloomy with a grey overcast as our column trudged up the tree-lined road that led to the Belgian village of Malmedy. Snow covered the road and fields and we were wearing white “Long John” underwear over our uniforms to help with camouflage. I remember that in spite of the cold temperature, well below freezing, I was perspiring from the march and carrying the weight of my back-pack, weapons, and belt tools. I was the lead scout on my platoon’s mission to recover the area where a massacre of American soldiers by a German combat unit of the 1st SS Panzer Division took place on Dec. 17, 1944. It was there about 100 captive American soldiers were marched into a field and systematically shot. A few survived to carry the story to our troops.

As we approached the small valley or glen that was the scene of the tragedy my squad Platoon Leader, Lt. Beardsley, asked me to accompany him to the nearest home that was visible. He needed my services as a translator of any inhabitants, who would be speaking French. After knocking and finding an elderly couple he asked, through me, if there were any German soldiers nearby. They replied that the Germans had left and were probably now positioned on the low foothills that rose in the north of this valley. I cautioned them to stay inside and protect themselves and we rejoined the squad.

As we continued our march the squad leader told us to make a line facing the foothills and to begin digging our foxholes. As first in line I moved forward and to the left and as I did so I spotted a small depression in the snow that looked like a suitable place to dig as it was already sunken below the ground level a few inches. This proved to be a mistake as it had been filled with water and now had a floor of ice. It was too late to change position as we had already begun to attract rifle fire. I chipped away with my entrenching tool, a small shovel with a folding handle. In time I had a spot fashioned where I could at least lie prone with reasonable protection. My spot was on the extreme end of the line on the left side. There was no visible target so we mainly just held our positions as the ground we occupied was the objective wanted by the higher command. They would later check the area carefully for evidence to use in any War Crimes trial that would follow the end of hostilities. But soon the opposition began to strengthen. A machine gun began to chatter from the hills; and, then, mortar shells began to land near us in the field. A very close shell landed just to my right and I felt the shock of the blast and a burning sensation on my back. I found that a fragment of the shell had landed midway on my back and was still very hot to the touch. I later carried that fragment of shell throughout my service as a good luck charm.
As the gunfire continued to gain in intensity and we began to fire back at the flashes my squad leader, Sgt. Irvine, yelled out “Who is on the end of the line?” I answered, “It is me, Scotty.” He then shouted “Go over to the Sgt. Harmon’s squad across the road and tell him to phone the Captain that we are getting heavy fire.”

This was a daunting task. The distance was probably 100 yds. over a white field of snow without a bush or tree to offer minimal protection. I yelled back an affirmative, took a deep breath and began a slogging run, zigzagging back and forth as I went. A sniper fired about two shots at me. I heard the first as it snapped by and the second just missed as I dove into the first foxhole of my destination. It happened to be a deep one dug by Sgt. Harmon himself and the bullet meant for me nicked him in the rear end. After catching my breath and examining the sergeant I used his first aid packet to dress his minor flesh wound with gauze and sulfa powder. He later was awarded the Purple Heart and you can bet I teased him about his wound for the rest of our service together.
Our troops managed to hold the ground until late at night. Then we were gathered into the basement of a home for protection as the enemy began to send Tiger tanks into the area. These fired 88 cal. shells like a huge rifle and we were no match for this opposition. We had one air recon officer with us but the overcast skies meant we could not expect any air support and his communication with any artillery units was unrewarding. Our commanding officer, a Major, contacted our Col. Irvine for advice and was given the order to hold our position! As the tank shells began to zero in on the house above us the Major decided to ignore the order and we began a retreat through the darkness toward our own main forward lines. In this instance I was the trailing soldier in a single file column with only the recon officer behind me. We had been cautioned to keep as silent as possible and to keep at least 10 ft. distance from the man in front. With the overcast no star or moonlight was visible and the darkness was pitch black. From time to time I had to turn back to the recon man and tell him to back off. Obviously he was very nervous and would move closer until he was virtually in lock step with me. In due time we passed by some soldiers on either side of the road who seemed to be digging in. You could hear them working and whispering occasionally, but we were never challenged. Maybe 20 minutes later we were challenged by a forward guard with “Halt! Who goes there?” It was an outpost and we were delighted to have reached our own lines. We mentioned passing the other soldiers without a challenge and he said “There are no other soldiers in front of me. You must have walked right through German troops.” This proved to be true.

The leaders of the unit involved in the massacre of our soldiers were brought to trial and convicted after the war. Co. “C” of our Armored Inf. Bn., were appointed special guards for the German leaders who were being tried at Nuremburg. This is just one episode of my service in combat. Life becomes one stressful occasion after another when fighting a war far from home and no end in sight; you have to live in the moment My heart goes out to those who are facing the same in our ventures overseas today and to their families and loved ones that anxiously await their return. Let’s speed up the return of our troops this year - - - I am
Just sayin’

Saints and Sinners

2009-02-04T16:22:00.000-08:00

I am a notorious hero-worshipper. I am always excited to see some celebrity in person and have seen a few in my time - - from presidents to pugilists and movie stars to musicians. This is a part of American life and, I am certain for most of the world. We cluster around the stage to touch the hand of Jay Leno on the Tonight Show; stand in long lines for tickets to our favorite concerts and, as portrayed in an earlier entry, crowd in with over 2 million to watch our president’s inaugural ceremony. But, with that given, we should all be cautious in our worship. These people are humans just like we are. They make mistakes, they have problems, they lose their tempers and get into trouble, sometimes serious trouble.

Every daily newspaper or TV news show has at least one story about a celebrity that has a problem or is in some kind of trouble. Our heroes are often featured in career crushing incidents or escapades. Government nominees are revealed to be less than what we expected; governors and other politicos are involved in scandals or outright criminal acts; sports figures are listed in altercations with police, other competitors or the public; DUIs are common.

In recent years we have read of the problems of baseball stars such as Roger Clemens, Barry Bonds, and others. Football and basketball have their rebellious sons make the news with alcohol, domestic abuse and/or animal abuse and serious problems. Hockey players have been charged with criminal assault (isn’t that just normal play?). Well, let’s just say that our disappointment covers those in all fields of endeavor.

I am not so sure we should totally forgive all of these celebrities. After all, most of them owe their wealth and fame to the fascination of their fans, be it politics, sports or whatever. Most of them are possible role models for the youth of our country. They and their actions are imitated and mirrored by the young, so it was sad to read of the stumble by Michael Phelps the Olympic Champ, who has been touted all over the place for his great ethical training methods and his devotion to his sport. Now we find him toking on weed. Michael, I know you are young and enjoying your new wealth and fame - - - but stop and think, lad, I am
Just sayin’

Bagpipes and Claymores

2009-01-30T16:10:00.000-08:00

The recent anniversary of the death of Robert Burns, Scottish poet, led my thoughts toward my own Scot ancestry. I have been researching my various family roots for at least 60 years. Not with any steadfast focus but with a continuing interest and fascination. My natural inclination was to trace my surname Cochrane from my own birth back to the earliest ancestor I could find. This journey then led to the other ancestral branches that were woven into my descent. Almost all of which were Scottish on the paternal side. Along the way one inevitably in such a search bumps into history and how antecedents were involved and shaped by it. And, my Cochrane line began in 1240 at Renfrew, Scotland when Waldenus DeCochrane, the first known of that surname, was born.
We might consider first of all who the Scots are. Well, we know where they are, in the northern part of the British Isles. As I understand it the earliest arrivals in that part of Great Britain were invaders from Ireland who established settlements in the highlands that were taken from the Pict inhabitants. The ancient language then used the word Scots which meant “invaders” to describe these new adventurers. So we can assume that they were originally Irish Celts, seeking new land for settlement.
The irony is that in the passing centuries some of the tribes (clans) were persecuted in warfare or for religious beliefs and fled Scotland back to Ireland. These people are called Scots-Irish. So when you see that term written it should not indicate people who are a mixture of Scotch and Irish blood (they are all originally Irish Celts) but are descendants of Scots who fled to Ireland. Many of the Cochranes were among those who did so. One can generally determine the case, whether Scot or Scots-Irish by the spelling of the name. The Scots-Irish dropped the final “e” in the name. Cochrane is Scot and remained at home; Cochran, without the “e”, is Scots-Irish and the family settled in Ireland. But, there are exceptions of course and my family is one of them. My gr. gr. grandfather Glass Cochran was born in Dublin, Ireland but my dad, Earl, did not like the shortened version of the name so added the final letter. Thus, my line is from the Scots-Irish that set out again to find a haven by immigrating to America.
The Scots-Irish are prominent in the founding and growth of the United States. No part of our country’s history can be told without including them. They contributed in every field of endeavor and in every war. In fact President Barack Obama is of Irish descent. His great, great, great grandfather Fulmouth Kearney was from Moneygall, Offaly county, Ireland before immigrating in 1850 to the United States.
If you would like to honor Mr. Burns or the Scots with a fine dinner then you can prepare a cock-a-leekie soup; a main course of haggis, which is a mixture of a lamb’s internal organs cooked inside its stomach lining (a 2 to 8 oz. portion is enough); add some side dishes of neeps (mashed turnips) and tatties (potatoes), and end with clootie dumplings (a pudding boiled in a cloth). End the evening singing Burn’s “Auld Lang Syne” while sipping a glass of Scotch. - - - Frankly, I think I’ll have a “Big Mac.” I am -

Just sayin'

Spooked by Salmonella

2009-01-23T12:23:00.000-08:00

National newspapers seem to concentrate on “scare” news. Or emphasize the shocking or tragic news. I suppose that surveys have shown that these attract more readers than the “feel good” type. A recent story that was given headline attention was about a salmonella outbreak caused by peanut products. The story has prompted a knee-jerk reaction across the country. Stores are grabbing products off their shelves frantically. Some products that have nothing to do with peanuts but may be made in a factory that also packages peanut products are also being withdrawn. Is this story really as frightening as they portray it?

Let’s consider the salmonella bacteria. There are over 2,000 types of this common germ. It is found prevalently in domestic animals: dogs, cats, cattle and such. It is found in the soil. It is everywhere. Man has over the eons developed a strong anti-body resistance to this threat. How could we not? However, when one contacts or ingests one of the stronger types the body reacts more to the invasion. This can usually cause a stomach upset that can be mild or severe. The victim may spend the day with an upset tummy or make more frequent visits to the bathroom. If the victim has a frail or diminished immune system such as found in infants or the feeble elderly the result can be fatal. This is true of course in any illness - - even a severe cold. An example from my personal life is about a co-worker friend who seemed to complain every morning at work about his stomach upset. This lad was of Mexican descent. One day he asked me to join me for lunch at his house. Upon entry I noticed immediately the cause of his mild stomach problems. On the kitchen stove was a frying pan that contained refried beans from the day before. He was still using them. He did not realize that beans are one of the foods that will quickly go bad from salmonella. What was causing him mild stomach upset would probably put me in bed for a day or two. Another personal example is a time when traveling with my wife we had dinner at a popular hotel restaurant and shortly thereafter while on the road I became violently ill. We had to stop our journey and check into a hotel for the night. By morning I was O.K., and we realized that what I had ordered at the restaurant was a food that had been kept on a warming plate in the kitchen too long. But, we are not talking about this category of people. The story is directed at everyone.

For every case of salmonella poisoning that is reported there are 20 others that are not. People were infected and not so ill as to require medical help. The disease can last a day or occasionally as long as a week. The bottom line is that we are in contact with this bacteria every day! We eat unwashed fruit and vegetables from garden or store. We make burger patties on the kitchen draining board. We let our pet rover lick our face and hands. We use a hand towel for a day or two. You just cannot completely avoid it. So, why aren’t we ill? Because we are immune. Here is an example: you visit Mexico and are warned about drinking the water there. You are told you may get “Montezuma’s Revenge” or “the Mexican Trots,“the terms for salmonella poisoning. And it is true, you might. But the Mexicans living there do not get it. They have developed immunity. And, you too have developed immunities over the years to the local foods and community bacteria and virus that may be present.

Ordinary precautions you can take: wash fruits and vegetables before using, refrigerate leftovers and food you will use later, keep counters clean, wash hands after shopping, or gardening and frequently during the day, do not leave poultry, meat or beans outside the frig for more than a couple of hours. Outdoor picnics are a breeding ground for salmonella so do not leave the food exposed for too long.

The salmonella that has struck a few people in a particular location has petered out. It has affected a larger group in that area that have felt a lesser nausea. It did not jump into the Planters peanut can that you just bought. It is not in “Mother’s” peanut butter cookies. You have more chance of getting the bug from handling any package that the grocery clerk put in your bag. This story has in no way a connection with a peanut allergy which is a whole other situation. If you have no allergy to peanuts - then you can pay no attention to the scare. If you want to dwell on and enjoy the paranoia fine, but I am going to make myself a peanut butter and jam sandwich and follow with some Reese’s candy. I am
Just sayin’

Yes We Can!

2009-01-21T16:51:00.000-08:00

President Obama gave an inspirational inaugural speech yesterday before over one million people attending in the National Mall and to millions more throughout the world. It was a call to our citizens to change direction of our civil programs and to resume a place of leadership in world affairs. He also promised to work with all parties in coming together to solve our problems. Whether Republican, Democrat or Independent; and from whatever religious faith we should all pull together to make a better life for ourselves. Our national progress affects each individual and every family.
When I consider my own extended family I can see the importance of how government programs, added or dropped, will change their personal lives for better or for worse. My son Ken, Jr. has been in the automotive repair business for many years and the past year of economic recession has slowed the flow of customers and put a strain on maintaining the workforce. It should be a priority for government to assist the small businesses across our nation with tax relief and help in financing progress. My second son, Kevin, is a professor in a college in southern California and faces the hurdles that now exist in recruiting students, improving curricula and seeking endowments; a result of the decline in the economy. My youngest son, Tyler, has a minimum wage position with a supermarket and could use assistance in training and learning the skills that would provide advancement. My daughter, Andrea, has faced and struggles with the declining work hours at her place of employment because of the corporation cut backs on expenses. My daughter Meaghan and husband Brandon battle with the costs of medical insurance, food and clothing for the family which includes daughters Chloe, Caydi and son Liam. Tax relief and affordable medical insurance are areas where proper government programs would help them. My grandson Glenn is an ER nurse who commutes to work, has mortgage problems and could certainly use assistance with plans that would help in the medical field and in mortgage adjustments. Grandson Kenneth III, is employed in the automotive industry and is directly affected by the decline in that area. A part-time student, assistance there would also be helpful as well as an easier access to credit. Granddaughter Angel as a grade school teacher endures the shortages in educational funds that have been cut from scholastic budgets; and her husband Ben, a talented computer graphics artist, would welcome some breaks in his effort to form his own small business. Two other grandsons each could profit by changes in government programs and new legislation that would aid in securing their futures: Matthew, a Marine serving in the Pacific who is newly married and Sean, a Freshman college student who works two jobs to help pay the way through school.
None of the family above complain about their lives, but all could use help. This is not an unusual example. Every family is enduring various hardships and sacrifices because of the nature of our times. But this can be changed. War and governmental mistakes have led us here - - and diligent effort with intelligent leadership can bring us to recovery and prosperity again. Obama may not achieve the goals he has set for politics is a murky profession; but, at least he has pointed a way. Government cannot do everything for us - - we each must make our own way - - - but I am
Just sayin’

Take the Fork in the Road, George.

2009-01-19T12:17:00.000-08:00

Politics is a touchy topic in discussion and in writing so I usually try to avoid that subject. However, it is difficult to ignore the temper of the people as a new President takes office tomorrow. The citizens expect change. They are fearful of the economic situation, the war in Iraq and the energy problems that face the nation. I am an independent voter. Not registered as such because I wish to participate in the primary election process. However, I have probably voted equally for Democratic and Republican candidates in the presidential elections since my first vote in the 1940s. I did not vote for George Bush. As a sports fan I was aware of Mr. Bush long before he ran for our highest office. I did not believe he would be a proper leader. But, he left a legacy of humor that he did not intend but will long outlive him. Those of us who have watched the Late Night Show with David Letterman will know what I am talking of. His nightly sketches of “Famous Presidential Speeches” well documented the blunders, misspoken words and phrases and the befuddled stares that the President produced during his forays as a public speaker. It is difficult to face large audiences and deliver an address without mistakes. But, George gave us classic examples of faux pas that would equal those of Yogi Berra, the man who left us with such delightful phrases as “they give you cash, which is just as good as money,” and “When you come to a fork in the road, take it.” He also told a sports reporter that the game “is never over until it’s over.” So - - on a humorous note we can say goodbye to George and wish him well.
Bushisms:

“It would be a mistake for the United States Senate to allow any kind of human cloning to come out of that chamber.”

“There’s an old saying in Tennessee -- I know it’s in Texas, probably in Tennessee - - that says, fool me once, shame on - shame on - you. Fool me - - you can’t get fooled again.”

“Our enemies are innovative and resourceful and so are we. They never stop thinking about new ways to harm our country and our people, and neither do we.”

“Too many good docs are getting out of business. Too many OB/GYNs aren’t able to practice their love with women all across this country.”

“I can’t wait to join you in the joy of welcoming neighbors back into neighborhoods, and small businesses up and running, and cutting those ribbons that somebody is creating new jobs.”

“We look forward to hearing your vision so we can more better do our job.”

“Make no mistake about it, I understand how tough it is, sir. I talk to families who die.”

“Thank you, Your Holiness. Awesome speech.”

“This thaw - took a while to thaw, it’s going to take awhile to unthaw.”

“The fact that they purchased the machine meant somebody had to make the machine. And when somebody makes a machine, it means there’s jobs at the machine-making place.”

And, as we leave George we may recall his statement to the people of Virginia: “Throughout our history, the words of the Declaration have inspired immigrants from around the world to set sail to our shores. These immigrants have helped transform 13 small colonies into a great and growing nation of more than 300 people.”

Thank you, George, I am staggered by the thought. We may soon be overrun - - - I am
just sayin’

It's Easy, Just Push the "GO" button.

2009-01-16T12:09:00.000-08:00

Did you ever get the feeling that life has sped up and become more complicated as the years have passed? Well I certainly do. Of course I have counted many more years than you. I have moved from the age when you picked up the phone receiver and asked the operator to connect you with your Aunt Maggie. Now it seems that you have to find a small, pocket-sized phone set, check to see if you have enough bars or something (I don’t have one) and then punch in a series of numbers to either locate Auntie for a chat or send her a text message or e-mail her; and, you can do this while taking a photo of the children and listening to a new tune with the same device.. Even disposing of garbage is a problem.. In my earlier times any disposal of food garbage was handled by a service. Today I have to separate every thing. Paper, plastic, metal go in one can, grass and tree clippings in another and food garbage in a third can. But wait, you can’t put old flashlight batteries, worn out electronic gadgets (such as phones) motor oil and various other things in any of the cans. You must locate a collection point where you can carry your old double A batteries and the other stuff to dispose of them. You can get a guide from the city disposal headquarters.

As an old postal employee I am amazed at how complicated the mail service has become. It started with getting rid of small branch offices where mail could be received, cancelled and sorted for delivery quickly to various destinations. Nearby cities or villages could often get same day delivery. The postmen then kept a forwarding address book at their desks where your new location would be listed. Since usually only a few folks would move from a route each month the carrier would usually not even look in the book; he could memorize the forwarding address and write it on the envelope for immediate re-distribution. But management decided that there should be large distribution centers where all new mail should be sent before being cancelled and sorted out for destination. Soon after the forwarding of mail was removed from the carrier’s responsibility and that mail would be bundled up each morn and sent to the distribution center where clerks would forward them. But first, of course, sticky labels with the person’s new address had to be made for each change of address request. The requests were printed on file cards and boxed by route number. Are you beginning to see the problems here? The carrier who knew you and your new address could no longer just write it on your mail and send it on - - -- no, now your request of change and your mail had to wait while labels were made and cards filed alphabetically in proper boxes. If a number was out of place on a letter the forwarding clerk, who did not know you or the route, would just send it to the dead letter office where it would eventually be destroyed. To top it off in the ’ridiculous’ category, now the sorting of mail is no longer done by hand. Clerks operate machines that read the punched in zip code and address and direct the mail to the proper city and route. We hope. The mail is then machine sorted so that the carrier just picks up a row of mail in the morning for his route, bundles it and sets off for delivery. He no longer fingers the mail. This means that if the sequence is out of order relating to the rows of homes, he may find that, whoops!, here is Smith’s mail and I passed his house a half hour ago. Count your blessings if the mail to your home is on time now, or even makes it to your house. Forget about mail from your old address - -if some few pieces find the way and they are only a few weeks old - - and you are lucky.

Maybe I am over reacting to the present state of affairs and how it affects us. Here is a personal story that should be told once more. I bought a modern digital camera. I made myself comfortable on the couch at home and began to read its operating manual, the guide through menus and the directions about focusing, flash, deleting and/or viewing photos and onward to nausea. I tried to program this complicated device and finally was satisfied that it might take a picture. This was in preparation for my trip to Salt Lake City where I was scheduled to officiate at my younger daughter’s wedding. When I arrived there and enjoyed celebrating the reunion with my children and preparing for the coming affair I remembered my camera. I was confident that either of my daughters could teach me the rudiments of its operation. Both had been born into the electronic age. So, I approached the eldest who has computer memory, the world’s fastest typing speed, can manipulate scanners, Tvs, remotes, Tivos, and ‘smart bomb’ laser guiding sights. I handed her my camera and asked “Can you show me how to take a picture with this?” She looked at it briefly and said “Sure, dad. You look through this little window, point it at the subject and then push down this little button on the top.” Yeeaaahh! It worked. Now, I am no genius but I could handle that operation. Maybe life isn’t as complicated as I thought - - - but I am
Just sayin’

White House Hurry-Up Call

2009-01-15T11:07:00.000-08:00

We’re talking about change here and I have some ideas about what kind and where they should be made. President Elect Obama will be inaugurated soon and I hope he gets right to work on the economy. If congress gives him the right to use the remaining bail-out money he can stimulate the economy by giving a money rebate to tax payers. Not like Pres. Bush did with rebate checks in the belief we would all run out to buy things, thus stimulating business; because, that didn’t work. We paid down credit bills and stuck money in savings accounts. No stimulation help there. But I would suggest issuing vouchers or coupons, even gift cards; say another $600 worth to each and every tax payer or worker who never made enough to pay taxes. These would be redeemable in merchandise stores only. Maybe they could come in different values: like $300 for groceries only, $200 for clothing and $100 for anything else. The government would then redeem the vouchers from retailers with cash. That is an economic stimulus.

How about providing work for the seriously unemployed. As in the “great depression” there should be a work force financed by the government to start repair on the nation’s infrastructure. We seriously need highway and railroad improvement and levee repair. We need the cleanup from storm damage, fire fighters, bridges built and brought up to standard. This work would provide jobs and the people employed would happily spend their well earned money by buying food, homes, autos and everything that makes life more enjoyable. And people who now are threatened with foreclosure on their homes should receive assistance in re-structuring their mortgages and insist that the bailed out banks join in the solution. You can read about the mortgage aid farce in my son’s blog. http://www.sensonomics.com/

Taxes should be more fairly applied. Businesses need relief from heavy taxes in the large inter-cities. Small business owners should have aid in tax relief and the wealthy should pay a larger amount. I am tired of hearing about the lavish parties and frivolous display of riches by our celebrity elite. Many of course give remarkable effort and money to worthy causes - - but, let’s present a bill to the ones in the entertainment world who don’t. Those who sign 10 to 20 million dollar per year contracts, the executives who take home large bonus payments and receive ‘golden parachute’ retirement checks.

Yes, I have some ideas about how the government should proceed and I am sure you do too. Maybe I should be patient and just wait and see what our leaders will provide in this new year. I am sure they will do their best - - - but - - - I am
Just sayin’

Win the War - - Surrender!

2009-01-13T11:08:00.000-08:00

Controversial subjects and topics in the world abound where people with strong convictions disagree. Heading the list would be Religion and Politics. Since our earliest history great wars have been fought over these two. So, I try not to get into serious discourse with others concerning either. I don’t mind friendly discussions in a broad way about them but resist making the topic personal. You can’t win an argument here. But I don’t mind stating my position on other controversial issues. One such subject is featured often in our daily news media. Drugs.
For years now the U.S. and State/local governments have been fighting “the war on drugs.” And without success. The law regarding use, possession and sale varies greatly from state to state. In some jurisdictions you can get years in prison for possession and in others perhaps only a warning. Vast amounts of money are being spent on this “war.” The federal government has wasted huge sums in trying to stem the trafficking of drugs from other countries into our country; even to the extent of supplying troops and equipment to foreign nations in the pursuit of a hopeless policy. There is a saying that “those who ignore history are doomed to repeat it.” This certainly applies to the general policy of criminalizing drugs. A perfect example is the constitutional 18th amendment of Prohibition of Alcohol, which went into effect in Jan. 1920. It made it a federal crime to manufacture, transport or possess alcoholic beverages. This act established the breeding ground of a crime wave that swept our nation. The ‘speakeasy’ replaced the saloon as the public continued to seek alcohol. Smuggling provided spectacular profits to gangsters and racketeers. Gang wars were fought for control. Liquor became stronger as it was more profitable to the smugglers. This amendment also permitted individual states to still pass laws prohibiting alcohol, resulting in the absurdity of one state banning it and an adjacent state allowing use. In several states there were counties with opposing laws. The temper of the times which was also influenced by the “Great Depression” led young people to flaunt the law and to seek the adventure and excitement of doing so while others sought some financial relief by covert brewing activity or making “bathtub Gin.” The whole effect was the complete failure of the results wanted by temperance groups and those who favored abstinance. How is this result different from what is happening under the present policy on drugs? We have been doomed to repeating the history we have ignored.

If we were to legalize the possession and use of drugs here is what I think would happen. There would be no increase in the percentage per capita of drug use. Our prison population, that is mostly populated by convicts serving time on drug charges or the violent crimes committed to obtain drugs, would decline drastically. This in turn would save a gigantic amount in our government budgets. Law enforcement would benefit from the freedom to pursue other issues. I might note that during my term as a clerk of the Grand Jury in Pinal Co., Ariz. we gave some 30 to 40 indictments a week for violations of drug laws; and this in a sparsely populated county. The vast sums now being wasted on this war on drugs could be spent to treat addicts or alcoholics in a positive way to rehabilitate those who are victims. And we must realize that as in the freedom to use alcohol many of those who use drugs do not become addicted. If you watch the late night talk shows you find that many of the celebrity guests admit to having used or still use drugs. They discuss it with humor. They are not failures in life. But as in life everywhere there are a few who have less control and have succumbed to over use. They need our help. Former First Lady Nancy Reagan had a campaign against drugs with the slogan “Just say no.” Well that is good advice but it is hardly practical. To be practical we need to get rid of the law just like we did with the 18th amendment in March 1933. I am
Just sayin’

The Butler Did It

2009-01-12T15:54:00.001-08:00

Among the most popular television shows are the action/suspense Crime Scene Investigation productions such as CSI Miami, CSI New York, CSNI and the original CSI. These all begin the show with a committed crime, usually a murder, follow up with the investigation, a suspect, great scientific forensic work and then the apprehension of the guilty suspect. It is suspenseful and fascinating stuff.

My recent comments on the cliché plots used in blood and thunder movies and a follow up discussion with my daughter led to the incredible solutions that evolve in CSI shows. For example it would not be unusual to watch an investigator at the scene of a murder, where the victim is lying alongside a highway, to pick up a stray leaf, bag it and take it back to the laboratory. There it would be determined that it had dropped off the boot of someone who was at the murder scene. And further that it was from a rare expensive plant that is only sold in 3 stores in the city. Store records show that among the few customers who bought this kind of plant in one store, a clerk remembers a tall red headed man who wore boots and so - - - - on and on to the inevitable guilty suspect. Of course this is all made possible by the fantastic modern scientific equipment that is available in the lab which can dissect and separate every molecule in whatever speck of evidence that is under scrutiny. Not only that but it can also then print out the details; geographic location, chemical makeup; who might have grown or manufactured the item; and, how long it might have been lying where found.

My favorite of this genre of shows is CSI Miami (which, incidently is filmed in Los Angeles). It is the flashiest with the high tech instruments. If examining a spent bullet it will not only reveal the results of the examination but in a flashback they show you the flight of the bullet and its eventual striking of the target! Exciting. But all of these shows depend upon the viewer’s suspension of disbelief. It is like professional wrestling (sorry fans). I see it but how much of it can I believe. Well let’s do our own examination.

While it is true that we now have amazing technology that can devise scientific tools that are of major importance in forensics. It is not true that these instruments are found in your local police laboratories. If your police force even has a scientific lab. In small towns their equipment may not even include a microscope. Why not? Well, because major scientific instruments are highly expensive and the trained specialists who could use them properly are also highly expensive. Further, on a more basic level, it takes trained officers to diligently work a crime scene and gather all the evidence according to a certain protocol. Not every police department has that training. If you have watched the TV show “Cops” you will have seen officers pick up a gun at the crime scene without even a glove on. They tromp around the area and scoop out items from automobiles without a thought as to preservation of evidence. History surely has shown us that a criminal with enough money can hire a super-lawyer who would make mince meat of any evidence that wasn’t properly handled. But, even if the evidence is properly gathered, in most cases it must be sent to a central forensic laboratory for evaluation. This may be a state run lab in the capital or a major city. This lab will probably be completely buried under a ton of evidence submitted by police departments from throughout the state; all waiting impatiently for the results of examinations. And you can be sure these labs are under funded as well as the departments that sent the evidence. So - - - the flake of sand, or the tree leaf or murder weapon will not be immediately submitted for scientific examination and results gained within the hour. Even simple tests may take weeks or longer to evaluate. As a member of the Pinal Co., Ariz. grand jury, I recall hearing testimony where the suspected offender was held in jail for weeks while the local law officials waited for the results of a blood test for DUI or drug use prosecution. The suspect was held on other charges while awaiting results such as possession of drug paraphernalia or disorderly conduct. In most cases the bail set could not be paid. The reality is that in small towns the arresting officer doesn’t rush right back to headquarters, file a report, grab the evidence and race his motorcycle to the closest forensic lab. And the mails travel slowly nowadays. Even some innocent people plead guilty on a plea bargain to escape the detention that may ensue because of delays in forensic work or the crowded dockets and heavy backlog for public defenders.

The TV shows are enjoyable and fun to watch - - but it ain’t really happening that way! We just don’t have the money, the trained personnel or all that futuristic equipment. I have no use for those who drink and drive, but if you are slightly high and get into a accident you should hope it is in front or close to a bar. Then you can hurry in to get another drink or two while awaiting the police. The officers will realize that they have no case against you. Takes too long for tests to determine the exact time when you began drinking so you would most likely just get a warning - - - I am
Just sayin’

The Food Trip

2009-01-10T20:14:00.000-08:00

My food trip began when I was old enough to eat solids. And those early food tests were an adventure. I quickly discovered that most things green which my mother tried to force down me were like poison to my body. Gerber's was not a staple in our cupboards then. The fare was usually right from our dirt farm. The family had to grow most of what we ate. Veggies were carefully prepared from our harvest, chicken, eggs and milk were from our small gathering of stock and fruit trees and berries were crops we grew. Grandmother and her daughters canned a great deal of the produce and fruit for consumption out of season. My problem was allergies. Now nobody had 'allergies' in those times. If you didn't eat everything put before you, then you were a "picky" eater. I am not sure if the medical profession recognized an allergy. But I would not have been examined by a doctor for that in the first place. Medicinal treatment was also home grown when needed. So my trials through life at the dinner table were difficult and annoying. I've had aunties who said "You will sit there until you clean your plate, young man!" After an hour or so a sympathetic uncle would usually save me. Eventually my mother gave up and decided to let me eat what I wished; and, of course, that was to choose the things that did not make me deathly ill. No one seemed to understand this approach. It reminds of the people who try to get you to try something new by saying "It tastes just like chicken." Which invites the reply of "Then why don't you just serve chicken?" The funny thing is that I was never reluctant to try new food or its preparations. After all I did want to be able to eat a variety of things. And here is what I found out. My body will not tolerate green vegetables. I don't know what component within these things triggers the quick nauseating response that ensues. I cannot tolerate any cabbage unless cooked and then only a little; spinach is a big no-no; avacado (guacamole) will make me ill, as well as asparagus, celery, broccoli; brussel sprouts, radishes (tho' not green), green onions and parsley. Among the "green" things I can barely tolerate are peas, green beans and lettuce. To add to the problems I encounter in my food search trip is the fact that I also am allergic to fish, fresh water or sea and, in fact, most seafood. No oysters, shell fish, shrimp, lobster or crab. As a child I could endure a few shrimp and a few samples of crab or lobster but not much. I can, for some unknown reason, enjoy the mild northern cod fish that is served in fast food places, halibut and abalone. These do not seem to have the 'sea' taste and are very mild.

So, what do I eat - - - well, I am a meat and potatoes kind of guy. But, as I searched for and tasted foods from around the world I found a wealth of variety and delicious items I enjoy. My wife, Virginia, raised in Cincinnati, Ohio where they have never seen a food like an artichoke (I can eat these!) and barely knew how to boil water when we were married eventually became a gourmet cook and chef. Together we went on a food trip that sampled the native fare of most every ethnic group. You can do this in your own neighborhood by checking out local eateries. And together we founded the Afro, American, Irish, Mexican Meeting & Eating Society, which eventually garnered so many members that it collapsed from sheer popularity. We would meet every other month at a volunteer host's place, bringing our own food preparations and beverage, a real pot-luck affair. The last one's that Virginia and I hosted we had to hire a hall to accomodate everyone as over a hundred members would arrive. We learned a lot about food from these good friends.

My wife and I also on a whim decided to eat our way through the restaurant listings in the phone book! This was really an adventure and gave us a lot of fun. Starting with the "A" listings we sampled fare at a nearby Asia Cafe, the counter at the Alhambra bowling alley, a five-star restaurant called Aldo's, a Japanese tepan place called Aido's, I believe and some rather discouraging places along the way. At home we continued to invite guests to dine and featured choice items that Virginia prepared from scratch to compliment our friends ethnic origins. One such luncheon we served a deep fried pastry that was popular in Cambodia to some refugee acquaintances from that country. We prepared char shi bow for Chinese friends and dim sum for our Japanese ones. She could even build from scratch the fabulous Greek dessert Baclava using the very thin filo pastry sheets, nuts and honey. We were also interested in wine which many people routinely serve with their meals. This interest led us to tastings throughout the California wine country in the Napa Valley and the purchase of great French and Italian wines found in the cellars of San Francisco and Sacramento. Soon we were growing the select wine grapes and making our own wine which featured our personal label "Chateau D'El Monte. Thus, my travel along the food trip has permitted me to sample more choices than the average person will ever encounter in a life time. I have no trouble in sitting down to a meal any where or any place. If I have any fair sampling offered I am certain I will not go away hungry. But, don't be offended if I push aside most 'green' things - - - I am

Just sayin'

Hey! It's Hollywood!

2009-01-09T09:55:00.000-08:00

Some of my pet peeves about movies have to do with the exaggerations that are used in scenes and the clichés that are used in certain plot themes. I will write about a few of these but this list is not all inclusive.

The first that comes to mind are the scenes where one group bursts in upon another group gathered in a 14 ft. x 14 ft. room and starts firing sub-machine guns, rifles and pistols. The noise is deafening and the destruction to furniture, decor, windows and other inanimate objects is complete; but, not one person is hit by the gunfire. They all, after hiding behind desks, chairs and such and returning fire, are able to make it out a doorway. This is incredible. I venture to say that if I were able to surprise a group by entering the room with intent to harm someone I could kill at least one if I had only a pellet gun.

Another often noted scene is where an attacker tosses a hand grenade into a building's doorway or window and the entire building is blown up. Well, unless the grenade contains a cup full of nitro or the building is a straw hut, this is not going to happen. In army training I have been lying prone within 40 yards of 50 standard army hand grenades going off simultaneously and was only lifted a couple of inches off the ground. I have thrown grenades and have had them thrown at me. They are immensely destructive but they are not as powerful as a stingray missile or Hamas rocket. They will not destroy a building like a 500 pound bomb dropped from the sky.

It is fun to watch for awhile the acrobatics of a martial arts actor taking on a crowd of assailants. But, believe me, when a normal size man kicks you in the face during a fight you are not going to bounce to your feet without a mark or a bruise and be ready to go again. If you have ever seen cage fights on TV you will note that when an opponent is downed and being pummeled the referee is quick to stop the action. The lightly gloved punches can be lethal and a direct kick to the head pretty much ends the fight. But on screen we watch the combatants continue to battle after multiple such blows that often only end when one participant is knocked over a railing and falls 75 feet to the pavement below where he often is only stunned.

Car chases provide the greatest spectacles. I love it when the police are chasing the bad guys and in the process both adversaries manage to cause multiple wrecks of innocent drivers caught in their pathway. Spinning victim's cars then crash into others. Can you imagine the suits against the local departments that would follow? And all too often when the pursued or the pursuer finally flips his vehicle several times and/or catapults off of a cliff the driver and passenger will crawl out, dust off clothes and prepare to continue the action on foot. Please! In actuality most law enforcement agencies have a policy that when an auto chase becomes too hazardous the officers involved must back off for safety reasons. That is not true of all such agencies though. I and my wife were near victims while walking on the sidewalks of Dayton, Ky. That morn when a vehicle was being pursued by a police car both both vehicles careened around a corner at high speed and slid right up against our curbside. They disappeared in the distance without looking back or losing speed. But, hey, that was in Kentucky.

Let us not forget the cliché endings of some suspense movies. The bad guy finally catches the good guy/girl and a furious fight ensues. The evil one is eventually killed by falling over a railing, being fatally shot or stabbed and the hero comforts his loved one in his arms. But, wait, the body is now missing! And, watch out!, he is behind you. Oh, darn, I should have checked on that body or at least have picked up his fallen weapon. Now I don't actually hate these scenarios; I can always fast forward through them. But they are peeves and I am - - - - -
Just sayin'

Cash, it's Just as good as Money

2009-01-08T10:30:00.000-08:00

I am informed by my daily newspaper that because there have been thefts from local libraries of the money collected from fines imposed on borrowers of overdue books, they will now change the system of collecting the funds due. Anyone choosing to pay his fines must now do so with a credit card or a check. I have several objections and observations about this.

The news item related that from one branch library the daily take from fines collected was over $300 and this amount was found missing after a break-in the previous night. My question is: why do you leave that amount of money available on the premises? Most businesses make a night deposit to their bank account at the end of each day after closing. I have owned several businesses and that is what I did. Is it so difficult to drop by the bank and deposit funds on your way home or wherever? Can't the manager (librarian) or a trusted worker do this simple task?

Another question is: how do you expect a person to pay his fines if he/she has no credit card or checking account? Will the library trade for labor? Can the delinquent party stack books, dust shelves or sweep floors to work the fine off?

Another question is: Isn't the library breaking the law by refusing to accept legal tender as payment for a monetary debt? I believe this is true. The U.S. government prints on its paper money the statement: "This note is legal tender for all debts, public and private." That is fairly plain and clear. So - - - I suggest that if you owe the library money, whether for book fines or any other matter, you pay them in cash; and, if they won't accept it inform them that they will hear from your lawyers. I'm - - - - -

Just say'n

Fool's Gold

2009-01-07T11:44:00.000-08:00

I am sure we all have taken a second look at the shiny metal flakes of "fool's gold" we found in the sand at the beach or the dirt of a forest or in the banks of a cliff. Could this be a real gold flake? Well, it doesn't hurt to look, but there are other enticing items that we consider which may also turn out to be fool's gold. I am talking about the collectibles that are offered for sale everywhere; on TV, in the mail or in your e-mail inbox.

Now as a hobby collectibles are great fun, whether it be stamps, antiques, plates, paintings, coins or anything else you can imagine; but, be sure you collect them for the enjoyment they give you. If you are enticed to purchase for the possible investment reward later on - - - beware. I have been a collector for many years and in diverse fields. I was a professional stamp dealer for several years. I have been an appraiser. So, let me tell you a few things gathered from my own experience and knowledge.

You may see adds in magazines offering stamp approvals for your consideration and possible purchase. This is a fun way to begin or add to a collection. There are literally thousands of postage stamp dealers in this country. Approvals are a method of selling which allows you to look at the merchandise, choose what you want and then return the unwanted merchandise to the seller. All it costs is the price of the stamps kept and the return postage for the rest. But, if you are buying for investment it is advisable to work with a reputable dealer or (based on your knowledge) attend an auction where you may find desirable items. Value is based on rarity, condition, and demand for the stamp you are considering. The stamp market is connected to the economic situation of the country. Stamp values when on the rise do so slowly. The same applies to coins. Current issues of stamps are almost certainly never going to rise in value enough to make investment worthwhile. A particular stamp issue is printed in the hundreds of thousands and will never be rare. An example is the 3 and 4 cent varieties issued in the 1940s which cannot now be sold, unused and in mint condition, for their face value. A stamp dealer, if at all interested, would only pay half the face value. Collectors who buy full sheets of each stamp issue will never receive more than face value when sold. A lady once visited my store to offer her collection of U.S. mint sheets for sale. She had invested hundreds of dollars over the years. I had to tell her the sad news. I was not interested and the only way I could suggest for her to recover some of her money was to contact large direct mail merchandisers such as Montgomery Ward or Sears who might buy the stamps for use as postage - - - at perhaps 5 per cent discount from face value.

Some companies offer plates for sale. These are usually items created by or for a popular artist. They are very beautiful. There is even a trading market for them. But, again, there is no intrinsic value and would rise in price only if another collector shared the same attraction for the subject or artist involved. A risky investment.

Antiques are a different sort. They not only have the value of utility but also have a demand by others because of the nostalgia of the past. My wife and I collected antiques but only with the provision that they would be something we could actually use in the home and were in good condition. Thus we could enjoy the beauty, the sense of owning a part of history and still have the use of a practical item. Our kitchen was a haven for such antiques: coffee grinders, utensils, iron ladles, pottery and, on the wall, even an early wooden cased crank telephone which I had a technician convert into a dial phone that was hidden behind the front cover. When folks asked if it worked I said "Sure, just lift up the receiver, crank the handle and then tell the operator what number you want!" Can you believe some actually tried to do this? Antiques can be a good investment if you use them and take good care of them. An antique sofa or chair can be purchased for the price of a current one. But, the antique will grow in value and the current one will take a hundred years to become an antique.

Precious metals: gold, silver, copper can be good investments. It will depend on the economy and the value of its use at the time of sale. But, do not send your gold jewelry by mail off to some buyer that you cannot reach in person. You must know who you are dealing with. Reputable dealers are everywhere and there are probably several in your own community. Be careful and knowledgeable when making a purchase for investment. That goes for all such collectibles.

Those of you who have seen the TV production "Antique Roadshow" may be impressed by the estimates given by experts on the value of certain items. But, remember that the estimates are just that and owners are told that it is a guess at what it might bring at auction. They are not offering to buy it. And the chance of you finding an old Picasso painting in a yard sale is close to non existent. Your chances of finding something of real value will increase if you become knowledgeable in the field of your interest. It's fun to collect and it's O.K. to invest. Be careful and remember - - - - if it sounds too good to be true - - - - then it probably is.

Just sayin'

I Promise You - - -

2009-01-06T15:58:00.001-08:00

The approach of an inauguration of a new president started me thinking about presidents past and the promises they have made. Some were kept and some not. This brought me to the consideration of the promises they made of a more personal nature: the ones made at their weddings. Reflecting on the presidents that held office in my own lifetime I could only remember three that I believe were faithful to their wives; and, of course, one can never be really certain. The three are Herbert Hoover, Harry Truman and Richard Nixon. Since we have had many presidents who have served us well it is obvious to me that marital fidelity is not among the criteria that should be used in judging one's attributes in office. In other words it has nothing to do with whether a president was good or bad as a national leader.

From what we read in presidential history we quickly find that George Washington was not only our first president he was also the first to stray from home. In recent times much has been written about Thomas Jefferson and his descendants, many of whom were from the illegitimate children of his slaves. Abraham Lincoln also managed to slip away from home often. Franklin Roosevelt, our most popular president, was known to share his winter quarters with another instead of his wife Eleanor. Dwight Eisenhower had a publicised affair with his lady military driver. John Kennedy was said to have used the secret service to help conceal his dalliances with women, which included Marilyn Monroe. Lyndon Johnson was oblivious to the criticism aroused in the press by his notorious parties at his ranch which featured nude swimming and plenty of liquor. Jimmy Carter, when asked in an interview, stated "I have committed adultery in my heart." What are we to make of this confession? Is this a sly way of avoiding the subject. Sort of like saying "I did not have sex with that woman," as pronounced by Bill Clinton in congressional hearings. A professional biography and other writings have indicated that Ronald Reagan was sharing a hotel room with a woman other than his wife, who was giving birth to a daughter at the time. I don't even want to think about George Bush and his possible behavior considering his military record and his bouts with alcohol. All this could be very depressing if we dwell on it. Politicians have become the targets and the focal point of writers looking for such scandal in office. Governors, mayors, councilmen and even minor government workers have been denounced or accused in the press and media of sexual misbehavior. Many have resigned office while others fight to overcome the accusations. I am not trying to make any point here - - it really is none of my business - - -

Just sayin'

Celebrity Watch

2009-01-05T09:56:00.000-08:00

The morning news brought information that movie/stage actor Pat Hingle had died. He was one of my favorite character actors, noticed by me early on because of his resemblance to a family member. He was versatile as an actor, playing villains or heroic good-guy parts. You may have seen him in "The Grifters," where he put out his cigarette on the hand of Angelica Huston.

I have been fascinated by movie stars and celebrities in general since childhood; awed by their presence. This is not an inherited trait as my mother once, when leaving a drugstore lunchroom, was bumped into by an entering James Stewart, superstar, and said "Watch where you are going!" And, my elder sister, while standing in the foyer of the Memorial Auditorium in Sacramento, was smiled at by a passing Bob Crosby, big band leader and brother of crooner/star Bing Crosby. She said "What are you looking at?" and made a face.

I did share mother's bumping into trait, however. At the old Alhambra theater in my city I started to enter the seating area and crashed into the largest man I ever encountered, Buddy Baer, the brother of heavyweight boxing champion Max Baer and a professional boxer himself. He often played "giant" parts in the movies. I later seemed to be courting his disfavor when at a baseball game in old Edmond Field, Sacramento, I was sitting in a second level row and the entire field dissapeared as a large gentleman blocked my view while pausing on the walkway in front of me. I said "Excuse me, but could you move on? You're blocking the whole field." The man turned towards me and it was Buddy Baer. I quickly followed with "But, that's O.K. because I am tired of watching anyway!" He smiled - - then laughed and moved on.

I also bumped smack into the great boxing champ Joe Louis. I was in an army military base in Brooklyn, N.Y. awaiting assignment to Great Britain. While in line to wash my mess kit after breakfast I rinsed the equipment and turned abruptly into the champ. I stood there aghast and then the original Sugar Ray Robinson, a boxing champ also, stepped forward and said to Joe "Is everything O.K.?" Joe smiled and tapped me on the shoulder as I apologized. Why do I pick boxers to blunder into? Other boxers I met in a more casual way are Max Baer, whom I frequently met and Sacramento champ Jim Marshall. Max always called everyone he met "Champ." I first saw him in person when I was a pre-teen. I was riding with my uncle in a big-rig Peterbilt truck and trailor when we were pulled over by a traffic cop. He was writing a ticket because uncle's truck had flickering running lights. A car opposite us pulled over and the driver yelled "Hey! Leave that poor guy alone." It was Max and the cop crossed to greet him - - then turned and waved my uncle on."

I have seen or met in person several U.S. Presidents, movie stars, politicians, Mafia godfathers, sports stars and various other celebrities as I meandered around the U.S. and Europe. It is always a thrill for me. I will tell of other encounters later on. I don't know what this facination means but I get a kick out of it - -

Just sayin'

Not a Drop to Spare

2009-01-03T10:48:00.001-08:00

This entry may be considered one of my rantings. It is about the water situation in California's central valley and particularly about the city of Sacramento. However, it is relative to every one's interest in how the media and/or local politicians twist the facts to suit their own interests in power control and money.

The morning news has two items that are pertinent to my comments. One states that it appears there will be an El Ninã effect on our winter's weather. This effect brings cooler water to the North Pacific ocean which can change the jet streams that cross the U.S. The article further states that this means we can expect a drought. Less snow in our mountains; less water available. Now, without going into the shaky record of our local weatherman predictions, let me point out that even if there is an El Ninã effect, in the past this has also produced the greatest floods in our history. So, what have we here? A toss-up? But let's get to my belief that the media either has a stake in these dire predictions, loves to publish "fear" stories or is influenced by their contacts with the politicians and power grabbers who are interested in the money involved. Water is 'money' in California. Vast sums are spent to acquire or control it. Its price is affected by its projected availability. Less water - - more money. A forecasted drought will boost the price dramatically. And the local media has always favored the stories about drought.

A second story in this morning's paper stated that leaders in our community are pushing forward on a plan to build a canal that will divert Sacramento River water away from its delta, the area where the river meets the sea. They state we must protect our water from the invasion of sea water from floods, storms or other natural disasters that may taint our drinking supply. The cost of the canal to the citizens? 15 billion dollars.

I was born about 15 miles outside of Sacramento so many years ago that I am a little older than its dirt. I have lived here almost all of that time. Our city is divided by two rivers, the American River and the Sacramento river. I have never seen these rivers stop flowing. I grew up swimming in both. I have never tasted salt water while doing so. Both harbor fresh water fish and always have. The American River supplied drinking water to North Sacramento along with 5 wells nourished by its adjacent presence. A political push many years ago forced two ballot measures to make our village a part of Sacramento city. The first effort failed so they tried again and succeeded. Sacramento wanted our water. They promised to keep us water-meter free. In other words: we will take your water and then let you waste it as you choose. Clever, and it worked. Incidentally, the city government recently pushed to install meters throughout the city. So much for promises. The discovery that they could not account for the disappearance of hundreds of stored meters has dampened the fervor somewhat. The Sacramento River is the focus in recent efforts to build new or repair old levees to keep us safe from the threat of river flooding. The powers that be want us protected from that infamous 100 yr. massive flood. One can see the controversy here. Abundant water is a threat, it can be wasted, it needs control - - - and yet every year we are told that it is scarce, there will be a drought, the Sierra snow pack will be limited.
Here is what I know will be said. When snowfall is light in the winter the media is delighted to propose water rationing. One year they managed to get local laws passed that let you water your lawn only on alternate days. Water police would patrol the neighborhoods to pass out tickets to offenders. When snowfall is heavy and the mountains are burdened with its weight the media dutifully report that "samples taken show that there is less water content in the snow." How convenient. One year there was a drive urging people to conserve by using 'grey' water such as dish water to water their plants. While walking through the plush Land Park area I spotted a woman doing just that. I asked what was going on and she stated she was doing her part to conserve water. I had to point out that I had just passed through the city's large William Land Park and the water sprinklers were going full blast and had been on since early morn, flooding the area so that any potential visitors could not reach the picnic tables without wading boots. The point of all this is that our rivers are still flowing and that for many years we have the added Folsom Lake, created by a dam on the American River. Media usually points out in dryer years that the water level is low and boaters can't launch their craft. Water will be in short supply. Well, when I was young I used to walk across that area past the houses that are now buried under the water. The rivers weren't any higher or lower than they are now. Of course there are more people, the community has grown hugely and the resultant demand for water is increased. But, people, the rivers are still running high, the possibility of floods are even real and the city is still flooding Land Park. Aren't the filtration plants functioning? There is no water shortage.

Just sayin'

Ken at 1943 Kentucky Derby

2009-01-02T15:18:00.000-08:00

http://www.newsflashr.com/feeds/business.htmlhttp://www.newsflashr.com/feeds/business.html

Little Italy

2009-01-02T14:24:00.000-08:00

In a recent comment about my blog postings my daughter Andrea mentioned writing about my encounter with a young Italian girl during my war-time training at Fort Knox, Ky. She said she probably didn't get it all down correctly. Well, for the record the following is an excerpt about that meeting from my book of WWII correspondence that I published in 1995. My comments in that book were given in the 3rd person as I wanted to tell my story from the perspective of the present day some 50 years after the events.
I had received a 5 day pass which enabled me to travel to Cincinnati, Ohio. At the time I was a very shy youth who had never been farther from Sacramento than Nevada, so every thing around me was a new adventure. Bashful by nature I had great difficulty in approaching any young lady to even say "hello." But on the 2nd day of my pass I ventured across the old bridge that separated Dayton, Ky. from the big city. I attended a dance in two storey building that was completely open (without side walls) to the outside and provided a large dance floor on the top floor. The famous Glen Miller band was providing the music for the night. After awhile I decided to leave as I was not a confidant dancer. As I reached the ground floor I saw that it was empty except for a young lady sitting by a juke box. Curious, I approached and asked her why she wasn't enjoying the music upstairs. She responded that she couldn't dance and had to go home soon anyway. We chatted for a moment and as she started to leave I asked if I could walk her home as it was late in the eve and she should not be walking alone. She accepted my offer and we continued our conversation along the way. When we reached her home I had the temerity to ask her for a date when I next got a pass to Cincy. She agreed and said she had never dated before and I would have to ask her father's permition. Thus the introduction to the following story. It might be added that I found out only a few years ago in an article in the Alantic Monthly that Emelia's home was in the center of a Mafia controlled area at that time, 1940s & 1950s, whose main interest was in the gambling casinos that were operating in Kentucky and the collateral businesses that attend such enterprises. Into the lion's den!
I begin with a typical letter I received from Emilia. From my book:

August 4, 1943
Dearest Ken:
Here I am again, and see that you answer soon. Well, Ken, when you get your leave I will go out with you, and that's a promise, if you come to the house and meet Dad and Mother, because they want to meet you very much.
I hope you didn't get mad 'cause I didn't go out with you that Sunday. But, now I wish I did go with you instead of my cousin. Ken, I didn't even go out with my cousin, believe [me]. I miss you very much, but wish you were here. Gee, Ken, I hope you received my letter.
Oh, by the way, my cousin says hello. Ken, just the other day she said you were a nice boy and meant it. I told her I was proud of you and always will be, Darling. Ken, when I told you I didn't go with boys, I meant every word of it, honest. I’ll be thinking of you always. Don't forget to send me a picture of yourself in your uniform.
All My Love and Kisses,
Emilia S.W.A.K.

Before offering the next letter, the editor feels compelled to comment on all those sent to Ken by Miss Emilia Manocchi. This is so there may be a fair picture presented of both the girl herself, and the relationship between her and Ken that really existed. It is apparent that she was not comfortable in expressing herself in writing. This is a drawback for most persons. She was repetitious and excessive in her choice of language. There were often gaps in what she put on paper and what she actually intended to say. When there are such problems for one in reading or writing, it is often because of Dyslexia, a handicap that should be treated and approached sympathetically. I am sure there are many forms and levels of severity to this disability, and that it is quite common.
Emilia did not speak or behave in a manner that might be indicated by her letters. She was, on the contrary, a very shy and demure young lady when with Ken. She spoke intelligently and knowingly about a wide variety of subjects. Her home was in a very close-knit community, where everyone knew the other's affairs. Her family was the archetypical European Italian family. The parents were extremely protective of their daughter, and eager to see that she married a decent man. And, in true "old country" fashion, they hoped that would happen sooner rather than later. Ken's letters impressed them mightily. Compared to the local youths, he came out far ahead. The environment of Cincy's "little Italy," across the river, did not provide a fertile ground for scholars or professional men. Fishermen, dock workers, laborers, and poor tradesmen were the common positions of endeavor awaiting the youngsters. The girls looked ahead only to find a good marriage. Competition for the eligible male was keen and strong. In this atmosphere, Emilia found a possible answer to her childlike dreams. A young and acceptably handsome soldier, who spoke with a different, educated voice, had taken a fancy to her. He told her, in passing, of his family, his hopes for his future, his interests. These things were far different from anything she had heard of before. He was from the enchanted land of California, as well. She could not believe that this meeting had happened to her. She was overwhelmed by her emotions and determined to make certain that this man would be hers. She fought with the only weapon she had at hand, the repeated declaration of her love.
At the date of the following letter, Ken had only seen her once. However, he had written her regularly. With what must have seemed great eloquence, he had stated that he found her beautiful and liked her very much. He wanted to see her again and proposed a date. This young lady of only sixteen had never had a proper date. Her father would not permit it. Eventually, Ken's offer to take her to a dance or movie was found acceptable by her parents, with the provision that he personally ask permission from her father. Ken had no idea or conception of the protocol that was involved in the courtship practiced by these people. The fact that he was permitted to speak to the father about escorting Emilia out for an evening's entertainment held no special significance for Ken. He was nervous about such a meeting, but unaware that it meant much more to the family. In effect, he was asking permission to court Emilia with the eventual idea of marriage, if all went well. Completely oblivious of all this, Ken walked jauntily into the web of local custom, and soon found himself entangled in a situation he could not understand.
The meeting with Papa was scary at first. Like a Mafia chief, Papa sat behind a table in the kitchen, alone, and bade Ken to stand before him while he asked him some questions. He sternly inquired as to Ken's upbringing, and his plans to make a living after the war. He warned the young man that he knew about soldiers, as he had been in the Italian Army, himself. He stated that he expected his daughter to be delivered safely home before midnight, without fail, and that he would be waiting up for her return. Then he proffered his hand and expressed the wish that they would have a good time!
Somewhat baffled by the formality of all this, Ken was relieved that he had been granted permission to take Emilia to a nearby dance. They proceeded to that affair, and happened to meet Emilia's older brother with his own date. Bored with the dance, the brother asked Emilia and Ken to go with them to a movie and a treat at the local ice-cream parlour afterwards. Ken then explained that he felt he would face execution if he did not take Emilia home by midnight. The brother laughed and said that, as long as the two were with him, everything was O.K.
Following the movie, the ice cream, and a cruise through "little Italy" in the brother's car, Ken and Emilia were returned to her home. And it was with some trepidation that Ken found the entire house lit up like a Christmas tree. There was no doubt that Papa was up, and expecting an explanation for the tardy return. However, the brother shouted from the street for his father, who soon appeared at the second storey window, and told him that Emilia and Ken had been chaperoned by him, personally. He pulled his own date from the car and yelled: "What do you think of this, Pop?" After exchanging a few pleasantries, big brother drove off and Ken was invited in. In spite of the lateness of the hour, Papa brought forth picture albums and scrapbooks and insisted that the young man enjoy a glass of wine, while listening to a short history of the family and of Papa's service in the Army.
Mr. Manocchi owned a green grocery and was able to provide a good middle class living for his family. He now decided that, since big brother liked Ken, Mama liked him, and the lad had made a favorable impression upon his own mind, he would approve of the possibility of adding him to the family. It was also nice that Emilia seemed taken with the boy. He thereupon hinted that it would be nice for a young fellow to think of the rewards to be made in the grocery business. After further pleasant conversation, Ken was embraced by all and permitted to leave.
Ken saw Emilia once more, and perhaps twice. Each time it became more obvious to him that his dating this young lady was a family affair of much greater significance than he would have imagined. He was incredulous that this was so. However, he deemed it prudent to announce that he had received his shipping orders and would now be sent overseas. He said his final goodbyes at a bus stop one evening, amid the crying and wailing (yes, wailing!) of Mama, and the tears of Emilia. It was a wrenching experience for Ken, as he really did care for Emilia. But he had no idea how to extricate himself from the situation without causing terrible hurt. So he just ran. In retrospect, he should and could have done many things; however, he was naive, inexperienced, and confused. But for the pressure of family and the desperate letters of Emilia, there might have been a different ending to this story. He found Emilia enchantingly beautiful, quiet and appealing. He would have happily spent many hours with her had he not been pursued so strongly by the family, and disturbed by the intensity of her letters. Emilia tried so hard, in fact too hard, to secure her position permanently in Ken's heart. The result was a "turn-off." He had never mentioned marriage, taken a liberty, or indicated a serious love for the girl. Now he was frightened to let his affection grow. He had blundered into a culture that made no allowances for strangers. He may have been the right boy, but he was there at the wrong time in his life.
The very redundancy and childish simplicity of Emilia's letters speak with a great eloquence of their own. It is hoped that the reader can, somehow, see beyond the words and feel the anxiety and emotion that gripped her; and, most of all, withhold a too critical judgment. Later Ken had time to reflect on his own part in this event; he found that he did not come out with honor. They say that "Ignorance of the law is no excuse." In this case, it was ignorance of the custom. He cannot be excused for not seeking out the "what fors?, whys?, and how comes?" staring him in the face. In his desire to date a beautiful young lady, he had acted in a cavalier manner.

Given the circumstances of that time and the place I have often wondered if interested family members of the Mafia had ever thought of seeking my whereabouts? Just sayin'.

New Years Days - Good and Bad

2009-01-01T12:23:00.000-08:00

Today is the first day of the new year; and, guess what? We get an extra second. Yes, the nation's atomic clock has determined that we need to have an extra second today to keep in tune with the earth's rotation which is slowing down. So, enjoy, make that extra second count in happiness and love.

As I recall the many (too many) New Years days that I have observed I can tell you what was probably my worst one and the best. Both were when I was in the military. The worst one was spent in the village of Stavelot, Belgium. It was during the "Battle of the Bulge." Most of you were not yet born. During the closing days of World War II in Europe the German leaders decided to make a desperate attack across Belgium and use their armored divisions to reach the sea coast in the Netherlands, splitting the American forces. This major attack was blunted and contained by our troops but took some time to drive the enemy forces back to former battle lines, leaving a 'bulge' on military maps. The attack began during our holiday season when our lines were thinned by holiday leave granted to many. The German leaders believed it was the ideal time to gain advantage by surprise.

My unit, the 526th Armored Infantry Bn. was in special forces training near Liege, Belgium. My own Co. A, some 200 plus men, was occupying the country estate of a Belgian nobleman near the village of Rouge Menier. Our Christmas packages from home had arrived and we were opening the gifts and stowing them in our duffel bags for later pleasure. Before dawn we were aroused by our officers and told to prepare for instant departure, leaving all but our battle gear behind. The information was that German paratroopers had been dropped behind our battle lines and that we were to proceed to the area quickly to eliminate the threat. We drove north in our half-track armored vehicles in the darkness until we reached Stavelot. The encounter was not what we expected. Our lead half-track was brought to a halt by shells from a Tiger tank and machine gun fire. It backed away as one part was on fire. My own vehicle, I was the half-track commander, found escape off the street into a vacant lot and we dismounted for a street fight. As dawn approached we found that instead of paratroopers we were facing a full German Panzer division, some thousands of armored and infantry forces that had crossed the river that divided the village. To make a long story short, we were slowly driven back out of town and up the road leading to a hillside forest. There my company commander decided we had to make a stand. Out of our 200 or so troops that entered Stavelot we now had only 27 left. He ordered us to split up with half on either side of the road and to dig our foxholes. To relieve the stress I asked the buddy next to me if we should hang our Christmas stockings on the foxhole walls. A short time later - the 30th Infantry division arrived to give us salvation; they had traveled all night. I wanted to kiss the bearded tank drivers that pulled up beside us. In ensuing days we were able to drive the enemy back across the river, blow up the bridge and contain the attack. I spent Christmas day and New Years manning a hidden machine gun in an upper storey room of an apartment house overlooking the bridge area. Surely my worst New Year day.

My best New Year's eve was the following year. The war was over and I was flying home for military discharge in Marysville, Calif. Actually it was two New Years eves. I flew out of Newark, New Jersey and celebrated the event in the air. A few minutes later we crossed the time zone line heading west and could celebrate the New Year again. What could be better than that?

This year I watched the New York celebrations on TV. In Sacramento they began what may become a tradition by dropping a "cube inside a ball" (what is this? See above photo) in a joyous celebration.

Here is some wisdom from a book I am still waiting to hand to my daughter Meaghan, "Plato and a Platypus."

Dimitri: "Something's been bothering me lately, Tasso."

Tasso: "What's that?"

Dimitri: "What is the meaning of it all?"

Tasso: "All what?"

Dimitri: "You know, life, death, love - - - the whole stuffed grape leaf."

Tasso: "What makes you think any of it has any meaning?"

Dimitri: "Because it has to. Otherwise life would just be - - - - - - -"

Tasso: "What?"

Dimitri: "I need an ouzo."

Just sayin'

2009-01-01T11:08:00.000-08:00

Goodbye 2008

2008-12-31T11:27:00.000-08:00

I am writing this on New Year’s eve while reflecting on the year of 2008. The events that cloud our minds, however, are dominated by the state of our nation’s economy. We surely all know of someone close at hand who has suffered economic losses. In my own field of acquaintances are a lady nearing retirement whose plans for the future have been somewhat dashed by the loss of equity in her home; another lady has found her work hours cut and the possibility of extra travel in order to maintain her salary base; my daughter has found it difficult to maintain enough work hours to meet her living needs and others are struggling with rising costs in food and medical care. And it is irony to find that much of the problem stems from the fear and caution that people have in using their money. Prices in most every category have dropped: gasoline, homes, general merchandise and yet the public remains conservative, choosing to cut back, save and prepare for the worst.
But, here is what we are reading about or viewing in the media. The Federal legislature is giving its members a raise in pay! Several thousand dollars more for each. Is this the reward for doing such a bang-up job? State governors have been involved in moral scandals and one even tried to sell a vacant Senate seat. A trusted investment manager has managed to bilk his clients out of billions of dollars; among the victims are Hollywood actors Kevin Bacon (above photo) and his wife Kyra Sedgewick. The stock market behaves like a person handicapped by schizophrenia. Banks lead the way by withholding credit except for the most trustworthy clients; this after receiving bail-out money from our generous leaders. So, is this the atmosphere needed to instill confidence in our people? Our sunbeam of hope lies in the election of a new regime. Whether Republican or Democrat is immaterial. The ruling criteria is whether or not there is change. And I for one expect a new beginning on a new course in the coming year. I have lived through tough times before (I am older than dirt), survived the “big depression” of the early 1930s; participated in a monstrous war; watched family leave to partake in other wars, including the present disasters in Iraq and Afghanistan; watched the depletion of gasoline supplies in the 1970s and the recessions at that time; and, do you know what? As a nation we always bounce back. Individuals also can bounce back. My birth was in a frame house, unfinished, in a small village to a poor dirt-farm family. My older children became highly successful in their chosen fields and the younger ones are succeeding as they pursue their own goals in life. So, whether you are shooting moose (what’s the plural? Meese?) in Alaska, selling political positions out the back door, investing your funds with con-men or spending your fortune on dog-fighting ventures and now defense lawyers, these examples listed will back my prediction that one can always bounce back.
Just sayin’.

New Year Beginning

2008-12-17T11:01:00.000-08:00

As a New Year's resolution I am beginning a new blog on this new site. It will be a place where I can describe a top-of-the head, mind flow description of my take on things; from the daily news media, internet or TV surfing, other blogs, conversations or what have you. Some topics may be just fleeting thoughts and may not represent my deepest beliefs or judgements; just a flow of present ideas or considerations. I welcome comments. If something offends you just let me know and I will try to elaborate on the topic. In my long life I have probably been there and done that. I will try to touch on the experiences I have enjoyed, suffered or endured during that time but usually only in reference to current subjects. I don't know where this blog will go but please join me if you want to follow the journey.