The Electric Antenna

I learned to drive in my fathers 1955 Pontiac Starchief. I loved that car! I was thinking about it today as I was out walking the dog. Cars then had so little extras, and the extras were expensive. We had an automatic transmission (Hydromatic), power steering and power brakes but no air conditioning. That was pretty standard, the steering and brakes were considered important, if you remember the non power ones, these were a snap. Standard shift was also common, but automatic was the way to go.

Cars came in with different equipment and you negotiated on cars in or coming into stock. You could order one but it took a long time and was perceived not to be as good a deal.

The Pontiac had an electric antenna. I know this sounds nuts, but it was fun. There was a toggle switch under the dash on the drivers side and you could raise a the antenna. It had an AM radio (of course) so the antenna was fine but probably not necessary. It came on the car, was an extra $25, but was included in the negotiations.

Cars cost around $3,500, nicely equipped. This would have been for middle of the road General Motors cars, Cadillac’s not included. They were more in the $4,500 plus range, I think. It’s a bit hard to remember, but teen aged boys, especially in the 50’s, really cared about cars.

I don’t remember anyone having power windows or power seats. There were a few air conditioned cars around, although I seldom saw one. One of eventually the richest men in America, who lived nearby, had a Cadillac, a chauffeur and a car phone! I have no idea how that worked, but in 1953 he had one!

There were few foreign cars, if any. A friend of mine had a brother who owned an MG and it was amazing! There was a foreign car dealer, a small place I used to see, and as I remember they sold only English cars.

My first car was a 1950 Ford two door with no extras I can think of except maybe a radio (yes, radios were extras as well). It was a six cylinder, even though I would have preferred an eight. I had it for a while and made the mistake of following it with a 1960 Morris Minor. This was an English car with no extras and it never ran too well. It spent most of it’s time in the shop.

I won’t bore you with my personal history of cars, I was just thinking that a $25 electric antenna can be a really important thing to a kid with a car. I could make it go up and down, and that’s all it did, but it was amazing!

Santa comes to call.....

image taken from http://www.britannica.com/blogs/wp-content/uploads/2008/12/santa.jpg

In the weird world of dress-up, this story reigns supreme in my book. I never liked to dress up in costumes, and the one story I wrote about a costume was the one where I dressed like a man with a job, which required no special clothing.

This story was about the most difficult time I’ve ever had doing a job. It was a volunteer effort, and it was a good deed done well, but never to be done again by me.

In the late 60’s, I was on the Board of what was then called, “The Association for Retarded Citizens”, a name that is no longer politically correct. However, I was the youth leader for about a year, and I led a group of young volunteers who did good deeds related to the improvement of the lives of mentally challenged people. Many of these young people were brothers and sisters of a challenged brother or sister.

At Christmas time we decided to do a party for institutionalized kids, and contacted the local state facility that housed these children. We were told that they had lots of opportunities for people to help out at Christmastime, and they were overwhelmed by volunteers. Everyone it seemed was willing to help with the children. But, no one was there to help older, mentally challenged adults. We decided to take on this task.

We planned a program, wrapped donated gifts, worked on food, drinks and decorations. We had lots of kids, many adult helpers, and I was the designated Santa Claus, the one who would lead the charge and give out the gifts. Our challenge was a ward full of older women, mostly between the ages of 25 and 65. In hindsight I’m guessing there were about 25 women.

They were quite excited about a party, as this was not a normal event for them. Many were in their pajamas, and many wore diapers. This was a new experience for all the volunteers.

At the opening, in full make up and costume, I was on stage. The costume gave me a way to mentally separate myself from the activities, or so it seemed. It gave ma a persona, so I knew how to act. Above all I was Santa!

I remember very little of that night, it was a mind boggling experience for me. I was Ho, Ho, Hoing all over the place and laughing and talking to everyone. I distributed gifts and ate snacks and talked to so many women who thought I really was Santa.

For most of that evening while I was having a good time, tears were running out of my eyes. Tears of joy for doing something so meaningful, tears for seeing so many challenged women at once, placed out of their own homes and put away forever, tears for my on children so blessed by not having to experience this life.

I was confused and conflicted. There were many others in the group crying as well. This was not a single experience; it was a shared vision and a shared burden.

We did good work, and I only hope it helped those women and all those volunteers as they went forward.

A Clown for Dinner

image taken from www.spiralpocus.com/.../2008/06/clown.png

In the 90’s, we were on the road somewhere in New England, and ended up in a lovely restaurant. We were tired and hungry and wanted to eat. My daughter was about four years old at the time, and had a dread fear of clowns, which should have had nothing to do with our dinner.

As we sat and chatted about the menu and what we would have, a clown passed by the door into our part of the restaurant. My daughter “freaked”. We could barely calm her down. She was petrified!

However, we were able to order dinner and calm down the situation.

The clown, upon hearing a crying child, decided that as soon as he was finished with the family he was with, would make matters better by coming to see the child and help out. This proved to be a disaster, of course.

I had to explain it to the clown and escort the clown out of the room. My wife had to remove my daughter from the restaurant and take her to the car, and I was left with the waitress coming at me with three dinners.

“Please make those to go”, I requested, and left the restaurant with a big bag of dinners in Styrofoam containers to try and eat in the car!

The Art Teacher

This illustration is taken from:http://www.zazzle.co.nz/art_teacher_mousepad-144953455482985983

I have made my life’s work in the visual arts. I have been lots of things, an artist, a teacher, a teacher of teachers and an administrator.

In my elementary school, in the day, there were no art teachers. All the teachers simply taught everything. I have no one standing out as my art teacher, just a lot of really great people (hindsight is 20/20).

In Junior High I had my first real art teacher, in the 7th and 8th grades. Here it must have made a difference, as my life, for many other reasons, turned toward visual arts. I will leave out the name of that teacher because the rest of the story gets a bit weird.

In the 70’s, I was attending some Maryland State Art teachers event, and as I was circulating, I saw my art teacher standing in the room. I walked over, put out my hand and said, Hi Mr. XXXXX, I’m Arthur Greenblatt, and I’m the Director of Student Teaching at the Maryland Institute. He shook my hand and smiled. As we were doing this I said, “I was in your class when I was in the 7th grade”. His hand froze, he looked deeply into my eyes and he said, “Go away from me, leave me alone and don’t talk to me”. He was deadly serious. I froze, looked at him, let go of his hand and walked away.

I don’t know what the trigger was. Was I too old to be his student? Was he too old? Was he jealous of my position? What would have triggered that response? I did know one thing, he was not kidding!

When I ever run onto any of my old students, I am always happy to see them. I can’t imagine what had happened that evening, nor will I ever forget it.

God moves in mysterious ways

Photo lifted from: http://www.thechefinstead.ca/house.html

I found this on a blog today and was so confused and upset by it that I thought I'd copy it from their site and present it to my readers. I have removed all links to the organization, and give you most of the message without making it possible for you to send money to them.

Read it carefully and understand that somewhere out there, all this makes sense to someone. If you really want to send them money or seek more advise from them I'll be happy to provide you with their information if you contact me.

I am not trying to provide them with more publicity, and I'm really not sure what they're doing, but I'm bringing it to your attention.

Pray for Your Pets in the Rapture

Pet Representatives After Your-lift-off will enforce contracts between concerned Christian pet owners (CCPO) and ATHIESTS who claim to rescue pets post rapture(ARPPR). Our members are NOT atheists, just devout believers in the Great Mystery of creation who cannot commit to serve any God(s) capable of understanding by human minds. Our members do not profess to know that pets owned by CCPO will be left behind in the rapture and, as pet lovers, hope that such will not be the case.

For your Christian payment (in an amount that you believe is worthy of protecting your beloved pets) we will guarantee that should the Rapture occur within the time period covered in your contract with any business which offers to rescue your pets post rapture, we will immediately secure legal enforcement of said contract or seek damages to be placed in trust to ensure the care of your pet for its lifetime.

Your generous payment will be a small price to pay for assignment of the rights to enforce your contract and, most importantly, for your peace of mind and the health and safety of your beloved pets.We will accept assignment of contracts to rescue all species believed by CCPO to have been created by the Christian God.

Thank you for your interest in Eternal Earth-Bound Pet Representatives. We hope we can help provide you with peace of mind. To legally assign us the right to enforce your contract with ARPPR complete the following, attach a copy of your contract with ARPPR, and mail with your Christian payment to:

Address withheld by me

The Nose

In 2001 when I broke my ankle, the irritating thing for me was the story! If I had done something sporty or heroic, I could have had a great story out of it. But, I was taking out the garbage and I slipped.

It was dramatic for me, laying in the garage, unable to get up, with my head shoved into the front tire. I had to crawl to the garage door into the house to bang on it. It even required an operation, but alas, even with sympathy, it still was a garbage accident!

Earlier this year I met a young artist on crutches and I asked him what had happened and he told me that he and his girlfriend were in a bus accident when it slid off of a mountain road in Peru! Crap! I had a garbage accident!

Now I’ve done it again! I smashed my nose! I have tried, with a straight face to explain it as a bar room fight or beating up a mugger (in Canada this would make me a criminal) but to no avail. I closed the back hatch of my Explorer onto my nose!

So here I sit with a broken toe and a smashed nose, all self inflicted, and not even in some dramatic suicide plot, just dumb luck! (Or, as my wife would claim, some form of dementia.)

The Moral or Ethical Dilemma

image taken from http://www.ubercoolgifts.com/two-of-a-kind-ring/

I ordered a Christmas gift for my wife. I have started shopping early, even though there are usually better prices later on, very often the things you want are not available. This particular item is one she has expressed an interest in having and one I wanted to buy. It was available, but I had only seen it in the US, and while that’s not usually a drawback, the shipping can often be more than the item, depending on how it’s shipped, etc., but that’s a whole different story.

I went after a Canadian site, and I was able to find two in Toronto. The first, a small design shop, had no one ever at home and had no way to purchase through the internet. The second, which may be a florist or related store, had the item and a way to purchase on line, which I did.

A thank you for your order email appeared in a day or two followed by an email a few days later saying they were sorry, but the only one they had left had a damaged box. I wrote back and thanked them, and I said that if the product was fine, I wasn’t worried about the box. They thanked me and said they would send it.

A note came a day later telling me it was shipped and I was happy.

Yesterday, with my wife sitting in my office, it arrived. I took the box and put it away, although I wondered why it was packed in such a large box.

When my wife left, I opened the box and there it was in its damaged container, along with another one, just fine, in a perfect box!

The dilemma as I saw it was, do I keep them and say nothing, or do I call and send it back? The shipping amounted to 50% of the value of the item, and no business would spend that for a return. There would never be a profit in it. However, it isn’t mine.

I guess we will have his and hers Christmas gifts this year.

Our school secretary, however, has put in her bid for it, because she knows what it is!

Disaster time

I was having a Board meeting at 7:30, and I was home to have dinner, and leave for the meeting. My wife and daughter were going to their piano lessons and then out shopping before coming back so I would be gone before they came home.

At 5:20 p.m.or so they left and I heard shouting. The garage door opener was not working. The garage door lifted about six inches and stopped. It would then go down again and go up another six inches and stop, etc.

After trying for a while, I unhooked the door from the mechanism, and let them out. They went to piano.

I noticed something funny in that the light associated with the opener was browning out. In fact, as I checked, many things were browning out, but some things worked fine.

I had something on the stove and went back in to turn it off but the stove failed to work.
It had been on.

Then, the upstairs smoke alarm went off, upsetting the dog (and me) and I was afraid of an unseen electrical fire. I ran up to disable the alarm and downstairs to look for a hidden fire. There was no fire, no smoke and no broken circuits! I double checked the circuits after running around in darkness looking for a flashlight!

I ran upstairs and decided to call my wife because I was afraid to leave the house alone and couldn’t find the number! I tried a found number and it didn’t work, no one answered. I tried a neighbor and I tried a friend and no one was home! I called again and it was answered wondering why I would call during a lesson! I yelled at everyone to get home!!

I went downstairs with a flashlight after I found one and found the emergency number for the Hydro Company.

They sent out a guy who explained that since half my house worked and I had seen a brownout, what we had was a melted aluminum wire somewhere underground!

They will send out a truck next week to fix this and cross our fingers the wire isn’t under the driveway.

In the meantime I had to get our neighbors to let them string a wire through pipe and it has to go from their box across their lawn and pavement and driveway to our box.

I was able to get top the meeting by 7:00 p.m. and eat dinner later that evening.

What a mess!!!

I Love American Cheese

I love American cheese.

I know, if you’re an American it’s no big deal. If you’re a Canadian, it’s “What’s American cheese?” In this dichotomy, lies my dilemma.

In Canada, where I live, there is no American cheese!

OK, there is Velveeta, there are lots of processed cheese slices covered in plastic, but there is no deli cut, yellow or white, real American cheese. No Land O’ Lakes!

So, no big deal, live with it! We have every special English and French cheese, as well as any other made any place else, including really good Canadian cheese, but still no American.

The solution is one I live with, but is a bit over the top.

When one or both of us go to the US, we usually buy a pound of sliced American cheese, and as the one who loves it, I eat slices of American cheese every day (usually on bagels for breakfast) until I can’t look at it anymore. It can’t be frozen well, so that’s not an option. I don’t travel enough to make it a bi-weekly event, so I end up with feast or famine.

My dear wife, in being good to me, was in Detroit last weekend and brought me two pounds, a pound of each kind!

She also bought me two boxes of Sourdough Pretzels, also not available. Don’t get me started!

Sadly Remembered

In 1990 our school secretary was a nice young woman named Judy. She was the married mother of a 10 year old son, and was a pleasure to work with. She was already at the school when I arrived.

My wife and I were all set to go to Italy and I had some final instructions for my secretary.

The year before, when my previous boss had gone to Japan, one of his staff members passed away, and he never knew about it. They didn’t want to look for him and tell him, as he may have felt obligated to return for the funeral. As it was, he was upset because they didn’t call him, and he did feel guilty about not returning.

Knowing that scenario, I told Judy, “Don’t call me in Italy unless someone dies!” That way, my vacation would not be spoiled by little nonsense items that could be taken care of by the staff or left waiting for when I returned. After Italy, as the plane was landing back in Boston I said to my wife, “Well, at least no one died!”

I was met at the airport by one of our students who was house-sitting for us while we were gone. On the way home she said, “I have some bad news, your secretary died!”

Quietly sitting under a tree at her son’s little league game, Judy died of a cerebral hemorrhage.

The Wonderful Shrimp Necklace or the Trip to Value Village.

Value Village is a large chain of charity based stores in Canada, under the US based Savers Corporation. Under Savers’ business model, the company partners with local non-profits by purchasing and reselling donated items. The non-profits collect and deliver donated goods to Savers, which pays them for the items at a bulk rate regardless of whether they ever make it to the sales floor. Donations are also collected at stores directly, and the company makes payments to its non-profit partners when it receives goods this way. Savers has more than 160 non-profit partners throughout the United States, Canada and Australia, which it pays more than $117 million annually.

Items deemed resalable are displayed for purchase in stores. Savers has an aggressive recycling program and attempts to recycle any reusable items that cannot be sold at the stores, as well as any items that do not sell over a period of time to make room for fresh merchandise. Savers has buyers for its recyclables throughout the world and attempts to keep as much donated product out of the waste stream as possible.

My daughter and her friend asked me to take them to Value Village so they could look for Halloween costumes, a ruse to get me to take them to shop. This is a suburban teen’s version of slumming I think, or just bargain shopping. My last trip there with her was our first and I had hoped my last. I found it creepy, and one woman stopped talking to her daughter as I approached, because she was explaining that some people really had to shop here because they were poor, but as she neared me she was afraid to offend me, clearly expecting me to be one of “those people”. It just is a bit over the top for me, looking through and trying on used clothes.

First of all, the “bargains” were not much to be found, as most of the stuff I looked at was available at about the same prices on good sale days and at discount stores, but new! Secondly, most fat guys (for some reason) are short, so all of the pants that can get on me look like Capri pants!

The girls were delighted, and while I offered to take them to a new Value Village Store in the “burbs”, they chose to go to an old one to shop assuming the best old stuff is in the old store, which could be true.

I expected top find my own clothes there as most of my clothes end up in charity drop boxes and eventually end up here.

They were happy to shop and try on sweaters and skirts and left with good stuff, all of which delighted them.

However, the shrimp necklace is a gem!

UPDATE - It can be purchased new at: http://www.mardigrasoutlet.com/catalog/356.html

Rena meets Andy Warhol

Warhol image lifted from: http://www.listal.com/viewimage/534569

In the 70’s, Andy Warhol was traveling around promoting his book, the “Philosophy of Andy Warhol from A to B and Back Again”. He was to make an appearance at the Baltimore Museum of Art, and be signing books in their shop. My mother was a volunteer at the museum, and asked me if I’d like a signed copy to which I said, “Of course”.

She was not working the day he was to be there but asked a friend to get her a copy. When she went back to work, she picked up the book and appeared at my house the next day, somewhat perturbed. The book was initialed on the first page in marker, and did not have a full signature. This disturbed my mother but she reluctantly gave it to me and left.

A few moths later, my mother appeared again and asked me for the book, with no explanation. There was no way to refuse her, so I gave it to her so she could be off on whatever mission she desired.

She came back the next day all smiles. It seems that Andy and his publicist had appeared at Hutzler’s Department store for a book signing and she went down to confront Mr. Warhol and ask him to rectify this error in judgment. Her son, you see, was an important artist and taught at an important art school, and there was no way that she could feel right about giving him a book with just initials put inside and not a full signature. Besides, the least he could do was to draw a soup can inside the book for her so she could present it to her son.

So, like he had done many times before I now realize as I see auction sales on this item, he inscribed the book to me and added a Tomato Soup Can for good measure.

My mother was a formidable opponent and she was determined to get what she wanted,

and she did!

Concerns in the mail

Image lifted from: http://www.motivatedphotos.com/?id=4418
I received these two emails in September. I waited until after October 11 to post them, as it creeped me out enough to momentarily believe them, or I was just superstitious.

Email Number 1

When will you go to NJ to visit and when will you return? You said the end of the month. I ask because there are a lot of rumors around on the internet and on the radio about Oct. 11. Please leave there well before that date and get your mother and sister out also if you can.

There are many untrue things on the internet these days but I know the 11th has special significance for Al Queda and I don't know why. We are safely past 9/11, so Oct. 11 is the next 11 in line. The word is that DC and NY City will be targets as before and perhaps other cities as well. If you want to hear more about this (many people don't), I can send you an e-mail as soon as my husband gets our laptop back online. It is scary.

Where you are, you will be safe since you are not in the US., but it doesn't hurt to keep yourself prepared as if for a strong ice storm- or for a hurricane. Keep some money at home- enough for 2 weeks, keep a weeks worth of imperishable food and water. I am preparing kind of a short list of how to prepare for any eventuality for my parish and friends and family. I will send it to you when I get it done.

In the meantime, I will be praying for your parents and for you and your sister too, as you deal with this difficult decision. Pray for the safety of our country and for the efficiency of our government agencies charged with the task of keeping us safe.


Email Number 2

Please think of how you can leave there well before the 11th (The US). As I said there are rumors of a nuclear strike on DC and NY City on Sunday the 11th. While I do not know if this will happen for sure, it is being predicted by a person who claims the gift of prophecy and by a man who is a special ops guy who predicted 9/11 but no one would listen. That time he did not have a plan or date. If you want to listen to the prophecy and the special ops person, I can give you the site address. Please do not take the chance. Travel after that date may be impossible by plane and communications would be destroyed.

You may think I am crazy, but if I did not tell you about this I would never be able to live with myself.

I have already spoken to my daughter about going to visit you if she feels her family is in danger. From there they could make their way to our camp or to Kentucky where our son lives.

While I have every confidence that they will be stopped by our government agencies, we can never be sure

The Night of the Long Donuts

How perfect for an art school. a 2006 lithograph by Mel Ramos lifted from http://www.rogallery.com/Ramos_Mel/Ramos_Mel-DunkinDonuts.html

In 1991, one of our students at the Montserrat College of Art was working at Dunkin’ Donuts. He would bring in doughnuts from time to time, and this surprise was a great treat, shared with everyone around. He’d usually bring in a large quantity.

As time advanced, he came to me and asked if we were interested in all of the doughnuts, all the remaining doughnuts at the end of each day, whatever they were.

Of course we were, and his boss was willing to let us have them for a letter, making it a tax deductible contribution. I don’t understand how this would help as they were an inventory loss anyway, but this looked like a great gift and I try not to “look a gift horse in the mouth”.

Starting the next week, we began to receive whatever inventory was left at the end of a day. Pumpkin, Apple Crumb, Apple ‘n Spice, Bavarian Cream, Blueberry Cake, Blueberry Crumb, Boston Kreme, Chocolate Coconut Cake, Chocolate Frosted Cake, Chocolate Glazed Cake, Double Chocolate Cake, Glazed Cake, Glazed Donut, Jelly Filled, Maple Frosted, Old Fashioned Cake, Powdered Cake, Strawberry Frosted, Sugar Raised, Vanilla Kreme, French Cruller, Apple Fritter, Chocolate Frosted Coffee Roll, Chocolate Glazed Cake Stick, and Munchkins etc.
We had about 400 students plus a faculty and staff, and this was the daily remainder of one store, so it sounded like a great idea.

Every day, Monday through Friday, we had a bakers dream! It was awesome!

Beware of what you want! It may come to bite you in the rear!

After many months of such a gift the newness had worn off. It was hard to look at them in the morning, and we had to get rid of them every evening.

They began to appear in odd places, and the day I saw two chocolate glazed sticks floating in a toilet, I decided to call the whole thing off!

It was a great idea, it would have worked if we had thousands of students, perhaps, but we sent a nice letter to the franchise owner thanking him for his gift.

We had decided to end this luxury as it had become too much of a problem for us to deal with.

The Truck-Drivin' Man returns (post #200)

image taken from http://www.wtsafety.com/

My rough and tough exterior has come through once more. What rough and tough exterior you ask? Well, in an earlier post I told the story about the warehouseman assuming I was a truck driver, and this morning, it happened again!

I went to get a haircut. Now I will admit that I don’t go to a suave and sophisticated place to get my haircut, because if I did, I’d not be mistaken for a truck driver of course. I go to Supercuts, a discount chain hair place. I have pretty good hair and have never felt the need to pamper my head.

The young lady who cut my hair was great, she was full of personality and cute, and we talked about lots of stuff. Most of it focused on driving through big traffic and cross border trips. So, a mistake was inevitable. However, in the midst of my never ending joke telling and general snappy patter, she asked me if I still worked. This was a sign she knew I was old!

I admitted I did and she asked me if I drove for a living. Now even I will admit that she could have meant a bus or a cab, but I chose to go up that ladder and think she meant a truck, because cross border stuff is generally not a cab.

I was sophistically dressed in very dirty, rumpled jeans, a black T-shirt and a blue sweatshirt, my usual attire. It was hardly Ralph Lauren stuff, but it might have been. My shoes were leather, but scuffed and well broken in.

I think, given our conversation, she made a wise choice. I told her what I did and she seemed disappointed.

I think she would have preferred a truck-drivin’ man to a trained professional!

Driving the Sleigh

I lifted this image at: http://planetsave.com/

In the mid-50's, my friend Ted worked at the mall, and had access to the Santa Suit right after the mall closed on Christmas Eve. It was sweaty and stale, but he could get it and return it a day or two later to the rightful owner. He was so excited!

I would drive his car as it was a bit difficult for him to drive with pillows stuffed in his suit, and besides, he didn’t want to go out alone.

We would go to the gas station near the mall, a favorite place for us, and the owner would get us to go house to surprise his kids. We had to be at a Christmas Eve party about 11:00p.m. to scare the kids there, but we were free from about 6:00p.m., when the mall closed on Christmas Eve, until then.

Our desire was to get free booze and make kids happy (sort of).

We started out at the gas station owner’s house, and would drink with the guys in the basement while the ladies cooked and fussed upstairs. This was the 50’s, and this was a blue collar neighborhood, and we were two teen aged Jewish boys out being Santa and his helper!

When we left the house, the fun began. We would walk slowly, or drive slowly, if no one was out to see us, until someone invited us in. This was a kinder, gentler time and no one suspected that we were criminals, or even suspected two Jewish boys with ulterior motives, it was Christmas, and we had Santa!

From house to house we went and drank and jollied all the way! (We may have jingled too!)

By 11:00, we would make our way to our friend’s house, quite lit up, and woke the kids (her brother and sister) and had a great time! Everyone was drinking and we were happy as clams! The kids were generally scared by being woken up by the drunken Santa with a cheesy Irish accent, wishing them the happiest of holidays!

Sometimes I’d have to pull over, so Santa could get out of the car and hurl.

I miss those happy times!

The Human Body

It takes your food seven seconds to get from your mouth to your stomach.

One human hair can support 3 kg (6.6 lb).

The average man's penis is three times the length of his thumb.

Human thighbones are stronger than concrete.

A woman's heart beats faster than a man's.

There are about one trillion bacteria on each of your feet.

Women blink twice as often as men.

The average person's skin weighs twice as much as the brain.

Your body uses 300 muscles to balance itself when you are standing still.

If saliva cannot dissolve something, you cannot taste it.

Women reading this will be finished now.

Men are still busy checking their thumbs.

Bailing him out of jail...

In 1979, I was the relatively new Dean of CCS in Detroit, and I had a phone call from one of the faculty members. This was in the morning, and he seemed quite agitated. He had been arrested that morning, for parking ticket violations, and I was his one phone call.

He was in a Detroit jail, in a pretty good neighborhood, but still it was jail. He was very scared about staying there, knew he couldn’t reach his wife by phone and he decided to call me. Besides, his wife couldn’t get the money he needed. A guard had been beating on a guy in the cell across from him and it was not his day!

He asked me please to get $400 in cash and come over as soon as possible, to bail him out!

I went to our recalcitrant business manager and asked him for the $400, which he was immediately suspicious of, but I assured him as we paid this guys salary, we could be assured of getting the money retuned. He reluctantly gave me a check for $400.

I had to go to the bank, cash the check, and get my faculty member out of jail right away. He was a mess, and delighted to see me. The police station personnel were OK, buy I was guilty of something by association, for sure.

I got him home and he made it back to work the next day.

Jaba and the Mutts

We said yes to keeping a neighbors dog for a few days, and I had no vote in the plan.

So here I am, looking like Jabba the Hutt with his mutts, and here is also a better photo of the two dogs, Max and Halle.

Halle is a four month old half Shih-Tzu and half Chihuahua. (Chi-Tzu) who looks a bit like an Ewok, and Max is a Cairn, the same breed as Toto from the Wizard of Oz. I am just a Hutt!

Two Wives, Two Buttons

In a earlier time (the 60’s), in a gentler place (Baltimore), I was married. My wife needed a new coat and we went off to the department store to shop for a coat in “Better Coats”. Women’s Departments always have stuff like that and I never understood. I just figured there was the Ladies Department and there was, in those days, the Basement. But needless to say, I wander through life still generally surprised by things most people take for granted.

My wife found the coat she wanted and it was expensive, but we figured you only bought a good coat every couple of years (that was a long time ago!) so we’d go through with it.

She looked down and saw there was a button missing. Sadly, we knew not what to do except exchange all the buttons when we got home. When she put her hand in the pocket, there was the button!

My Mr. Scammer light turned on and I had her hand me the button to put in my pocket, and she went to the salesperson and asked if we could get a discount because of the damaged goods. She called the manager who checked out the coat and explained that while she could not give us a discount, she could call the manufacturer and get another button. We called her bluff and she took the number of the coat and she did get the button and we, of course, had to buy the coat.

I learned a lesson at that point, if you like something, remove a button and taker it home (hardly seen as a crime) and hold on, the item will be on the clearance rack eventually and you’ll have the button! Not the lesson you expected, right?

Now I never did do such a deed although I have recommended it many times to people. I did, however, in the same vein, take a pair of shoelaces from a clearance pair of shoes and purchased another clearance pair that had no shoelaces but were half the price of the laced pair. Now that was bottom scamming!

Last week, my current wife went to Old Navy to buy a featured sweater coat, for $30, down from $45. The one she wanted had a missing button! She called over a sales associate and asked he if there was a discount because the button was missing. She checked with her manager and he gave my wife a 50% discount, so it sold for $15.

When she out it in the cart, my wife realized that the missing button was in the pocket! There was also an additional button sewed into the sweater anyway, which the manager could see. Unlike me, who would have taken the button and put it in my pocket, she left it there and when she checked out, the button fell from the pocket! She told the cashier she knew it was there, but it wasn’t sewn on. They cashier said that she still gets her 50%!

I don’t think I learned anything at this point except that the missing button thing seems to happen in women’s clothing more often than men’s, and two similar experiences shared by two different women in two different places, married to the same man, 42 years apart, doesn’t mean much!

And I scarcely think I'll get another drink 'til I get to Buffalo

The stoty title is from an alternative chorus of "The Erie Canal" from two days ago.

The photo is the Buffalo International Airport.

Here I was back at it, driving to the Buffalo airport again. I had written about this in an earlier post in the summer, where I’d driven to Buffalo and back four times in one week and I was getting very tired! And here I was again, going to get my wife, who was coming home from New Jersey after visiting her parents.

To begin with, it seems that I’d go in and out of Toronto, a closer airport that doesn’t require toll roads and border crossings, but given the traffic and time involved, usually Buffalo is a better choice, and the fares are usually considerably less.

On Tuesday my wife was scheduled to arrive at 3:45p.m. and I try and leave two hours for the trip, given the crossing possibility of being stopped by a customs person for a longer time, or more likely, someone else being stopped and my being stopped behind them.

I left at 1:00p.m., as I had to get gas. The day was beautiful, the sky was clear and bright and the roads were pretty much empty on a Tuesday. I had with me my MP3 player transmitting through my radio the latest detective novel, my cell phone of course and my GPS set for the Buffalo Airport. This unbeatable combination only works if there is no reason to use the phone.

If there becomes a reason, I have to quickly turn off the MP3 player, grab the phone and hope the GPS doesn’t give me new directions I can’t hear, as without bifocals (which I hate and don’t have) I can’t see the screen enough to actually read it! As well, I can’t see the text screen if someone texts me, without my reading glasses, in a case on my car door, but if I get them I’d have to take off my regular glasses and it all happens at 65 mph!

This is a bad time not to be able to see!

First, I’ve checked the computer before I leave to see the bridge traffic. There are three possible bridges I can use, the first being the shortest, but usually the slowest. I checked at 12:45 and so much can change before I get there. Next, there is a sign on the road giving me an 800 number to check the bridges, but it comes late in the trip, and you have to call right away. So I had to yell out the number to myself, while I try and dial a phone I can hardly see and hope I have the right number (which I did). The first bridge, the Queenston /Lewiston is clear (a rare event) going into the US. There is a 25 minute backup coming into Canada so I know I can skip this one on my return.

As I continue, I have turned the MP3 back on after the call, my cell phone goes off and it’s a text for me and I can see it’s from my wife. I look at the screen and squint to see the message, which tells me something about a delay. Then another message and another and it must be important and I can’t see so I am not sure what to do.

I drive on to Duty Free, and park. I can use the bathroom there and not have to be hopping around at the border, but I can read the messages. I turn off the MP3 player (so I don’t lose my place) and shut down the car, get my reading glasses out and read the three messages. Yes, delys, but not bad, about 15 minutes etc.,. I text back:

“Great news etc., I am at the bridge, Ill be there early, no problem, I’ll listen to my book etc, don’t call me as I’m driving at 65 MPH and I will die!”

I go through the border easily, in just a minute, as I have a US passport so my ride is usually simple, and I keep going. In a bit, the phone goes off again and I scream. I know I can’t see, I’m getting GPS messages, I know it must be important and I don’t want to stop, but I must.

I go off the highway on the next available exit that’s not a freeway and find a street. I pass several cemeteries and finally find the caretakers street or something like that because who else would live on a street with four or five cemeteries?

I turn off everything again and look at the text which says “OK!”

OK? OK, she got the last word in and I really don’t care! I just want to go on. I text (of course) that I had to leave the highway just to read and this is it!

No more! I will contact you when I arrive in Buffalo! Which I did.

She was about a half an hour late, there were no surprises, and I got to sit for an hour with a cup of coffee and a muffin and watch the world go by. We had no problems going home and I did use the other bridge because of the potential wait.

A trip to the grocery, and general clean up and we made it to dinner.

My day had involved going to work, walking my dog twice, driving for four hours and having several vodka tonics and a few glasses of wine. I fell asleep sitting at the dinner table and slept there for two hours!

This is all too much for an old guy!