Flying At Half Mast

I used the men’s room today before I left the building at lunch time.


At noon I went shopping first. I stopped at a small store near my office and spoke with a woman I have known for years and discussed a problem I was having and was looking for her solution. We chatted a while and I noticed she was looking in another direction.

I was concerned as she was never that way before, at least not that I had noticed. She was helpful, and I was very satisfied with the service, but things just seemed a bit off.

It didn’t bother me consciously; it sort of sat there in my head and would have died except, after I left, I decided to go to McDonalds. I got out of the car and went in, and while standing in line decided to check my fly. I was flabbergasted, it was full wide open!

Of course she was looking the other way! I am now embarrassed, but I do understand she wouldn’t have said anything. People are too polite to point out the booger on your upper lip, your open fly or even, as has happened to me, let you know your garage is on fire for fear that you’d find them intrusive!

People, be aggressive. Let the poor schmuck know his dingus is hanging out or whatever the problem is. It is more embarrassing to the person to go around that way than it is to tell them the truth. A moment of uncomfortably on your part may help another person lead a better life.

The Frugal Repast or Thanksgiving dinner at McDonalds, almost.

OK, so here we are on the road on Thanksgiving Day. We are among the few weary travelers moving down the highways. The border was quiet, and the guard asked me where we were going. "New Jersey", I said. He looked at his watch and asked why, we said, "Thanksgiving dinner". He questioned what time dinner was. I exclaimed that it was served whenever we arrived.

Off into the New York countryside, across the Thurway. As a toll road, it has a 365 days 24/7 open policy. For money you get honey (said my Aunt Ida) and if you pay a toll, you get food and gas. However, at some point we leave the highway and move on toward our destination. At around 1:30 p.m. we decide to get gas and lunch. We stop at McDonalds to get lunch and laugh about the sad little Thanksgiving lunch we are about to receive when lo and behold, McDonalds is closed! How dare they do this?

Off to the next big town, where we know they have lots of services and lo and behold, the whole damn town seems closed! It’s like a horror movie, the buildings are there but the people have gone?

No McDonalds, no Taco Bell, no Arby’s, all closed. The Tim Horton’s was open, and even though we had a breakfast there, we gave in. But, the toilet was backed up with people and feces, and that ended that mission. The girls found a Ma and Pa restaurant next door and they were about to close, but they let them use the bathroom. Tim Horton’s, by the way, had a bus arrive with a million people so it was off limits as well.

We went to the Subway and I waited in line for the one bathroom. The kid in front of me finished, and shut the door with the lock on so I had to get help from disgruntled Subway workers after I told them I would pee in their aisles or break their door handle.

On my way out with our carry out sandwiches, chips and pop, I looked carefully at the people sitting around eating what could have been Thanksgiving dinner at Subway. They were all of the ethnic varieties, of some East Asian ethnicity and clearly unhappy about everything in their lives. At least about sitting there eating lunch in this place.

It was a difficult eat, driving down a wet highway with a 6” sandwich dripping lettuce leaves down my puffy coat, trying to be thankful about anything.

We eventually arrived in Mendham, NJ by 5:40 p.m. in a foggy, wet and cold evening happy to be over the 9 ½ hour ordeal. The traditional 2 martini pre-dinner slurp warmed my heart and the turkey, etc. was great.

So, Happy Thanksgiving America from your wayward son!

Renovation Blues

During our building renovations, we made the decision to get out of the building. This required a big move for our offices, and about half of our classes, because we could only find enough space to move some, and it all is borrowed or rented, so it fell to classes that would have enough students to at least break even.


My life has become a holy hell, but also great fun. This is a giant puzzle, which includes getting rid of massive amounts of collected junk, and I have been told, good stuff we’re throwing out! How much am I willing to spend to save stuff I will throw out in a few months anyway? Unfortunately, people think everything is valuable! Too much Antiques Roadshow!

There are a million stories revolving around this little fiasco, and all of them are rich in humor.

Last Friday night just before midnight, ADT called waking me out of a sound sleep. It seems a motion detector had gone off in our building, and they had called the building construction manager to tell him at 7:30 p.m., and he had been out to view the building. But now, the same alarm had gone off seven more times so they thought they’d wake me to tell me. I told them to turn off their bubble machine and leave me alone, I wasn’t budging.

Saturday was quiet, and no one called. The next call came at 9:00 Sunday morning, telling me the alarm had gone off and the police were on their way. I had to go down and meet the police; however, they were met by a number of volunteers and told nothing was wrong. I arrived after they were gone.

They called me again at 3:00 p.m. and I told them I once again refused to go down and meet police and told them to turn us off until further notice.

The cause of the nonsense ( as seen by one of our employees) was a squirrel that had gotten around the vinyl barrier enclosing the outside walls torn down to make way for the elevator. I can not turn it on again until the building is secure.

I am moving out on Tuesday and security can go to hell! I have nothing left to steal!

The Turn Signal

And the old guy says, “In the old days, we fixed cars ourselves. There was nothing much to do, basically, anything that was wrong was solved by rebuilding the carburetor, a job that could be done in and hour or so with a kit from the Pep Boys (the US equivalent of Canadian Tire) for about $2.”


My left turn signal was fast flashing, signaling a burned out bulb. I checked it out and it was a front one. In the old days we could buy a bulb for under a dollar and replace it in about 15 minutes. If it was a headlight, it cost more but 15 minutes was the top time.

At 12:20 p.m. I docked the Queen Mary at my favorite neighborhood car fixit place and went in and said I had an emergency bulb repair. They told me no problem, and I went to Tim Horton’s, across the street and up a bit, for lunch.

I returned a while later and my car was on a lift. I watched it come down and be moved to a different lift and I began to get that sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Why in the hell was my car on a lift! It had a burnt out bulb!

It turns out the only way to reach the bulb, which it took a while to locate after checking parts inventory on the computer, was using a lift. One had to dismantle a wheel well in order to reach the tiny, little, turn signal bulb.

It took about an hour and 15 minutes to do the job, with other snow tire jobs coming in before and after. There was, thank God, an old man who needed a left turn signal bulb in his Buick! Remember when we didn’t need snow tires any more after radials? And now we need them again. What’s a marketing ploy?

So, it wasn’t that bad, it cost $26 to change a bulb that should have cost about 15 cents in the old days.

Lets hope the right turn hold s out for a while longer.

I am confused by glassware

I am confused by glassware. As you can see, here are the glasses in our kitchen cabinet and in our hall cabinet. There are as well, at least two boxes of wine glasses, 12 in a box, in our storage room, for parties etc. We have red and white stemware wine glasses as well as red and white wine non-stemware glasses. We seem to have several types of champagne flutes and because we haven’t moved in eleven years, we seem not to be able to get rid of anything.

Wikipedia states: A wine glass is a type of glass stemware that is used to drink and taste wine. It is generally composed of three parts: the bowl, stem, and foot. Selection of a particular wine glass for a wine style is important, as the glass shape can influence its perception.

The traditionally held-to-be proper way to drink from a wine glass, especially when drinking white or otherwise chilled wine, is to grasp it by the stem. The most commonly accepted reasoning for this is to avoid fingerprints on the bowl, and to prevent the temperature of the wine from being affected by body heat.

Wine glasses made of fused or cut glass will often interfere with the flavor of the wine as well as creating a rough, thick lip, from which it is not as pleasurable to drink Blown glass results in a better vessel, with a thinner lip, and is usually acceptable for casual wine drinkers. High quality wine glasses are often made of lead crystal. Lead crystal glasses' advantages are not only primarily aesthetic. One factor of lead crystal is it is generally considered to have a higher index of refraction, thus changing the effect of light passing through them. Lead crystal is also rougher than glass on a microscopic level, allowing wine in the glass to breathe more efficiently when swirled in the bowl. They are also heavier. Using lead in the crystal matrix also offers several advantages in the material's workability during production. Wine glasses are generally not colored or frosted as this would impede the appreciation of its colour. An exception to this rule is the hock glass.

Wine glasses are generally considered to be fragile objects and can cause serious injury unless handled with great care.

The shape of the glass is also important, as it concentrates the flavor and aroma (or bouquet) to emphasize the varietal's characteristic. One common belief is that the shape of the glass directs the wine itself into the best area of the mouth from the varietal.

Generally, the opening of the glass is not wider than the widest part of the bowl.


Most wine glasses have stems, although "stemless" wine glasses are now available in a variety of sizes and shapes as well. These glasses are typically used more casually than their traditional counterparts, as they negate the benefits of using stemmed wine glasses.

Except to the wine connoisseur, wine glasses can be divided into three types: red wine glasses, white wine glasses, and champagne flutes. Wine tumblers (without stems) are also increasing in popularity.

Glasses for red wine are characterized by their rounder, wider bowl, which increases the rate of oxidation. As oxygen from the air chemically interacts with the wine, flavor and aroma are subtly altered. This process of oxidation is generally more compatible with red wines, whose complex flavors are smoothed out after being exposed to air. Red wine glasses can have particular styles of their own, such as

• Bordeaux glass: tall with a broad bowl, and is designed for full bodied red wines like Cabernet Sauvignon and Syrah as it directs wine to the back of the mouth.

• Burgundy glass: broader than the Bordeaux glass, it has a bigger bowl to accumulate aromas of more delicate red wines such as Pinot Noir. This style of glass directs wine to the tip of the tongue.

White wine glasses vary enormously in size and shape, from the delicately tapered Champagne flute, to the wide and shallow glasses used to drink Chardonnay. Different shaped glasses are used to accentuate the unique characteristics of different styles of wine. Wide mouthed glasses function similarly to red wine glasses discussed above, promoting rapid oxidization which alters the flavor of the wine. White wines which are best served slightly oxidized are generally full flavored wines, such as oaked chardonnay. For lighter, fresher styles of white wine, oxidization is less desirable as it is seen to mask the delicate nuances of the wine. To preserve a crisp, clean flavor, many white wine glasses will have a smaller mouth, which reduces surface area and in turn, the rate of oxidization. In the case of sparkling wine, such as Champagne or Asti Spumante, an even smaller mouth is used to keep the wine sparkling longer in the glass.

Champagne flutes are characterized by a long stem with a tall, narrow bowl on top. The shape is designed to keep sparkling wine desirable during its consumption. Just as with wine glasses, the flute is designed to be held by the stem to help prevent the heat from the hand from warming the liquid inside. The bowl itself is designed in a manner to help retain the signature carbonation in the beverage. This is achieved by reducing the surface area at the opening of the bowl. Additionally the flute design adds to the aesthetic appeal of champagne, allowing the bubbles to travel further due to the narrow design, giving a far more pleasant visual appeal.

A sherry glass is drink ware generally used for serving aromatic alcoholic beverages, such as sherry, port, aperitifs, and liqueurs, and layered shooters.

So, when I go to get the morning orange juice glass, I invariably grab the improper glass for such a task. I usually take one of the kids IKEA plastic glasses (not shown as some of the glassware (or plastic ware) are in yet another cabinet.

When I am here alone for a period of time, which does happen several times a year when I get to be on “vacation”, a time when everyone else thinks they’re going on vacation and leaves me and Max, the Wonder Dog alone, I usually use one glass. It’s just right for diet coke, orange juice, gin and tonic and a beer. It saves on the dish washing as well!

(I will admit to also using a small, stemmed wine glass from time to time. )

Pissing in the Wind, as usual

This was a letter sent to my kid's elementary school principal and the Chairman of the School Council (PTA) seven years ago. It did no good, as usual, but it doesn't stop me from trying.


February 19, 2003


I know that I only have second hand information, but since this issue is going to go to a larger school community, I might as well chime in.

The idea, as I understand it, is a “treat free” school. This would imply a Halloween candy free school, a Valentine candy free school and probably a school fair devoid of the substances considered “harmful” by those espousing the righteous position of politically correct and currently up to date nutritionists. Gradually, the so-called “do gooders” of our world are taking over, by force, the process of some sort of majority opinion. If you are at a meeting, and are devoted to a cause, and loud enough, it seems you slowly lose those who cared at all and eventually you can hold all the cards.

So, my vote is for free choice. In a non-life threatening (immediately threatening as opposed to over many years this may not be good for you) situation, I will vote for cokes or doughnuts or candy bars. My non-healthy life style is my choice, and I have the right to choose a life style for my growing children. Until a product is made illegal by our elected government, it is not a bad thing to use.

I have understandably gone along with peanut free stuff in my own school, because it seems a correct stance. I still have a coke machine and a candy machine and use them myself, and derive a small income from both of these. I have never felt bad about either decision. I refuse to allow those well-meaning souls who spout the current line about health to ruin my day. This does not mean that I am not educated or understanding, it just means that I’ll do it my way.

Let us not lose the fun part of school attendance. Taking away some of the little things from the kids will not improve anyone’s view of the school. You will not change the behavior of the families because you choose to make a health decision for them. The slippery slope created will go from candy to packaged lunches like Lunchables, and maybe we can move on to nitrite laden products like bacon, bologna etc. Where will these “hawkers of the new health” stop.

Please make a stand. Let us as parents make our own decisions on how our children eat. Let us continue the enjoyment of our school (I know it’s not all wrapped up in candies) and let those who preach continue to do so from their own pulpits and not through the public schools.

Thank for listening,

Arthur

It makes me tired...

Seven year ago I wrote an email which said, “My daughter has a good friend who often spends time with us. Her parents are great people who are overly exuberant about real healthy activities and are always out biking, skiing etc. They are young by my standards, in their mid 40’s, but even in my elementary years I never had their energy.

On Saturday their daughter slept at our house where we made sushi, and did a video for their health class about the girls as sushi chefs. Her parents, there was a snow storm coming (in fact it was ongoing that evening), left alone, chose to go night skiing or hiking or something and came home in a five car caravan down unplowed highways at 3AM. On Sunday, they picked up the girls plus my other daughter and her friend and went snow tubing and sledding for a few hours.

I can’t look at them, it makes me tired."

Back to 2010: Last week we went out to dinner with all of them after they had done a multi-hour bike ride. We had great fun, and after dinner one of our friends became ill, and was at the point of passing out, but was able to recover, and we went on. It was dehydration and muscle spasms and who knows what, but I was able to just lumber along.

I don’t know, I love them, but just looking at them, makes me tired.

Rockin' In The Big Smoke

Three years ago my girls made arrangements (bought tickets at $35 each) to see Motion City Soundtrack, The Higher and two other bands (the names have escaped me but they were not their favorites, although the first two were) in Toronto at a venue called the Opera House. It’s in a somewhat disreputable part of the city. My wife and I had agreed to drive them (although I can’t imagine why). There was a major rain storm and it took 2 hours and 15 minutes to get there (and 45 minutes to get home ) and we left them standing in a line of younger people (bar age not high school age) and off we went.

We went out to dinner, toured the area a bit and returned to the neighborhood to wait. We decided to go to Starbucks and wait so we parked and walked. We met a group of drunks having a conversation, but didn't join them as we had no idea what they were saying. We continued walking and found Starbucks closed. My wife saw a donut shop back a ways and walked there, and it turned out to be inside a gas station. What a treat, coffee in the gas station, with a homeless guy in and out of the washroom. When hefinally left I had to use it, and when I was finished my wife had to use it as the women’s room seemed to be locked. We then hung out and shopped in the drug store and waited for the girls.


The girls stayed to buy t shirts and cd’s as we waited and watched everyone leave. We began to panic, but the girls eventually came out. They were talking with the lead singer of The Higher, who they love, and he told them he loves them because they bought t shirts and cd’s. The cd’s were only $5 with the t shirt so it was a good deal anyway. Motion City Soundtrack people were too high up to come out and sign cd’s for fans, I was told.

My little girls grow up (they were 13 and 16) and I was tired!

I had never heard of any of these groups before that day!

The Nose Knows

My slightly stressed wife went out one afternoon with my daughter and Max, the Wonder Dog. They left the house and had gotten two blocks when she tripped on a piece of pavement which had moved up into the atmosphere, and fell.

Having once broken her wrist in a bad skating accident, she remembered to save her arms, and fell straight onto her face. Her glasses hit the pavement and jammed into her nose, cutting it in several places, but not breaking it.

We stopped the bleeding and went to the hospital. The triage nurse and the doctor both had to investigate to see if I had beaten her. They had me leave the room so they could question her alone. I expected it, of course, as the world has changed, and there were posted signs all around the emergency room about abuse.

I passed all the tests, and there were several opportunities for them to ask her about my abuse. Instead of arresting, me they repaired her nose and sent her home.

Stitches and some black eyes were the result, and my neighbor has ordered a new lens for her glasses.

We went out for mid-east carry dinner to celebrate the completion of her ordeal.

Life is sure tough these days.

The offending pavement has finally been replaced.

A Tale of Two Urinals

On Saturday evening we attended the Hamilton Philharmonic’s presentation of

“Brahms & Mozart”, an evening consisting of:

Rossini Overture to Barber of Seville

Mozart: Oboe Concerto

Murphy: Black Sand (commissioned by the HPO)

Brahms: Symphony No. 2

It was a lovely evening with an attendance of probably 1,200 people.

On Sunday, we attended the Eastern Division Semi-Finals of the Canadian Football League featuring the Hamilton Ti-Cats vs. the Toronto Argonauts where the Toronto Argonauts took advantage of turnovers and battled their way to victory in the Eastern Semi-Final against Hamilton.

The attendance was about 26,000.

I visited the bathroom at both events, both of them at half-time (intermission at the Philharmonic, but it’s still half-time).

I waited at both events for the bathroom to clear, giving it about ten minutes. On Saturday evening, I waited for the elderly and infirmed to visit, including those gentlemen with walkers and canes. By the time I arrived at the urinal, I was the lone patron. I was in and out quickly, and no one was there to say anything to anyone.

On Sunday, after ten minutes the line was still a million miles long, and I was dying. Now I don’t want a beer in the cold, rainy afternoon, freezing in the stands, but no one else seems to mind. At least I saw no one pissing in the sinks or in the aisles, but it was bedlam in the room. There were lines, seven or eight guys deep waiting and lining up for urinals. For guys who used stalls, there were critics screaming as to how “that’s how women use the john, sit down and pee!” It got really rude in there, with loud cries of how it was time for peeing, not sightseeing! I could hardly stop laughing due to the continued banter!

The talk is about how we need a new stadium, and I know we’ll lose the rude hilarity and jocular humor we achieve in the old stadium, in the old neighborhood. I will miss this too, but if we really get enough bathrooms, I can probably add a few years on to the life of my old bladder!

A Visit To The Hospital

Many years ago, late in 1969 or early 1970, after three children, my wife was in need of a gall bladder operation. She had an earlier attack, and was not looking forward to another, so we arranged for an operation. My in-laws and friends were available and booked to help with the kids, as I had to continue to work.


At the time, my father was going into the latter stages of prostate cancer, but was resting at home.

My wife registered into Baltimore's Sinai Hospital, and on the same day, I had a call at work that my father was taken to the hospital in an ambulance, and it wasn’t looking good. After checking on home and kids arrangements, I rushed to the hospital. I was stressed!

I asked at the desk which floor and room my wife was in, and at the same time I asked which floor and room my father was in. Both were on the same floor, my father was to the left and my wife was to the right as I got off of the elevator. It was big decision time in my mind. In a mental coin toss I decided that my father was in very iffy shape and in case I wouldn’t see him again, I’d better get there first.

When I arrived, my father was in bed talking to his room mate. He introduced me to the guy and I took a chair. I was nuts! I expected the worst and I found a reasonably talkative father. His room mate decided to explain his own symptoms to me in graphic detail, which were horrific! I passed out!

My father got out of his almost death bed and ran to the nurses station to get a nurse to revive me. I explained the whole story to her as I explained it to you, and she was very understanding. I revived, said goodbye to my father and his room mate, and went down the hall to check on my wife just out of the recovery room.

I don’t think I’ve ever quite recovered from that day.

The Lunch

One day, several years ago, I went over to my favorite hot dog/ sausage place, the little stand in front of Canadian Tire in Dundas. I got an Italian sausage with fried onions, which I piled with sauerkraut, mustard, catsup, pickles and hot peppers. My wife had given me hell for eating this kind of stuff in general and for doing it in my car on the Canadian Tire parking lot. She forced me to go to a nearby park and look at nature while eating my sausage.


Hearing her recent words echoing in my ear, I put the food down, put the diet coke in the little cup holder and drove towards the park. At first stop sign the whole package tipped over, and I had lunch spilled over into the center console and on to the floor as well.

With great effort I pulled over, dug out my food, wiped the mustard from my pants where the stain remained, and put this magnificent sculptural lunch back together again.

It was no longer pretty, but when I reached the park I hungrily ate it, listened to the radio and communed with nature. I had 3 napkins and a wash and dry with me, thankfully, so I was able to clean up myself and the car, dump the trash, wipe the sauerkraut off of my clothing and go back to work.

Free Wood

In the early 70’s I was approached by a friend who had secret directions for me to get to a secret location where there was a never ending supply of free fire wood. OK, if it’s too good to be true, it is probably not true but I was young anyway and it sort of was true.


There was a building site, a large subdivision being built in NW Baltimore County, and trees galore were being taken down, the wood cut and left on the ground, probably for the taking, or at least for the taking if no one else was around.

I decided to go on a Sunday in the fall, after a few rainy days when the sun came out. I had a full sized Dodge van with a large empty back. I drove on to the property, opened the back doors and began to fill the truck with fire place sized logs.

After a long, sweaty haul, the truck was full! I got into the van, now weighing hundreds of pounds more than it did when I arrived, and tried to drive out. The wheels sank deeper and deeper into the mud! It had been raining for some time, the leaves covered the ground and made the mud hard to see, but there it was. My wheels were half way into the ground and I wasn’t moving!

These were in the days before cell phones so I hiked to the nearest residence and called AAA. They were delighted to dispatch a tow truck because it was a beautiful day and no one except me, was stuck anywhere.

The tow truck arrived, hooked me up and tried to drive away. I watch as his wheels sank deeper and deeper into the mud. He was stuck!

These were in the days before cell phones so he had a walkie talkie radio of some sort and he called AAA. They were delighted to dispatch another tow truck because it was a beautiful day and no one except me and the tow truck were stuck anywhere.

The next tow truck arrived, stayed on the paved road, hooked a winch to the other tow truck who was hooked to me and he pulled us both out of the mud!

I got home and dumped my new, free load of wood!

BEAR

Several summers ago, on a lovely night, we had a great campfire. Nearby a very large family with five cottages, there were so many of them, had a lousy fire. I was so proud, my camping skills were better than theirs!


A few days later, I didn’t want to do it again as I was a bit bitten up from the previous campfire by bugs. So, we stayed in and played canasta with the girls and I looked out of the window and the big family had a good fire, and they were sitting around in about 10 chairs having a great time.

A bit later, I looked out and there was a great fire, 10 chairs and no people. The next few things happened very quickly as it was being processed in my head:

1. The people were gone and the fire was burning

2. Someone brought their dog, which no one was allowed to do.

3. That’s the biggest dog I’ve ever seen!

4. Oh my God, that’s a bear!

The bear was running around the grounds, running up to the fire and around the whole area. I knew then and there that the Tarzan movies were wrong and that a fire does not scare away wild animals.

After the bear left we all went to sleep. At 5:30 a.m. the next morning we got up and my wife looked out the window and the bear was staring right back at her, about three feet away! It ran around for a while and left.

The owners of the cottages said they didn’t know what to do as they had called a animal control officer and he would come out the following Sunday. They didn’t want to shoot it and hoped it would leave.
The next night we were out with friends and arrived back at 9:30 p.m. We were met by a neighbor who told us to run inside as quickly as possible! We did!

The bear was loose.

The owners shot a rifle in the air and the bear ran a bit, ran around the cottages for a while and tried to get into one of them.

The police were called and they arrived but said they don’t shoot bears. They went after the bear in the rain with flashlights, and when they saw the bear they shot in the air.

The bear got angry and decided to eat policeman for dinner. The policemen shot the charging bear. It ran a bit and fell. They ran over and shot it four more times.

Within the hour, a local butcher came over and asked for the bear and it was given up for meat.

I’m sure the all the little children there were traumatized. My kids dealt with it but it was an experience not to be forgotten.

The Sofa Again (from February 2009)

There has been a theme here the last few days with the rug and the dining room furniture so I thought I’d continue in this vein.


The sofa in my living room has an interesting history as I have been told.

In 1870 (or so) a Captain (Sea Captain) Craddock passed away, leaving two “maiden” daughters. The
daughters inherited their father’s house and possessions, and renovated the home with many new furnishings. The house was situated in NW Baltimore County, (on Craddock Lane), just outside of the city of Baltimore, Maryland.

In about 1905, an itinerant woodcutter, the story goes on, chopped the wood and then chopped the Craddock sisters. The Craddock sisters, having no direct heirs, left the house and furnishings to their minister, the Reverend Jensen, of the local Episcopal Church. The Reverend Jensen, upon his death, left his estate to his son, the Reverend Jensen of the local Episcopal Church. Upon his death, the reverend Jensen left his estate to his son, the Reverend Jensen of the Episcopal Church. This Jensen was a friend of mine, Tom Jensen.

Tom passed away when he was in his early 40’s (about 1972) and left his estate to his estranged wife in trust for his kids and many items were donated to the Maryland Historical Society. The house and land had been sold years earlier to make way for suburban development, and the estate was broken up at the time of his death. I went through the new house after the appraisers had gone, and was able to purchase items that were not deemed significant enough to be included with the estate. I ended up with a secretary and a sofa, and the sofa was pink and patterned and included lots of upholstery buttons, but not believed to be the original fabric. I eventually had it recovered and cleaned up the wood a bit, but it is still the Craddock sister’s sofa as far as we are concerned. It is not haunted, but it has stood the test of time.

For many years this one sat in my basement, under the laundry chute, catching laundry. When I was separated from my first wife, I took this with me, in its original pink, tufted fabric. It has remained with me ever since.

In the Dining Room....

Our dining room furniture was built by my great-uncle, Abraham Shockett, in my grandparents’ dining room in 1917. My Uncle Abe, being a cabinetmaker by trade, worked in a furniture factory in Baltimore, Maryland and lived with my grandparents.

As a gift to them, he actually built the set in place. He passed away in the late 1930’s and I was named after him.

The furniture design is derived from Sheraton and Hepplewhite patterns, and he completed the table, sideboard and china cupboard, mirror and a picture frame. I have all but the picture frame, which was given to my cousin. He never completed any chairs.


As a child, all my memories of family dinners with Uncles, Aunts and Cousins took place around the table. There is still pencil scribbling under the table done by me in the early 1940’s. Even my own young family dinners through the mid-60 have and in more recent years with another young family, taken place around that dining room table.

Then, when my grandmother passed away in 1967, my parents and my grandfather moved, and the furniture moved with them.

When my grandfather and father passed away, the furniture fell to my mother. My mother eventually wanted new furniture, a more modern look she thought, and she shipped the furniture to me. This was about 1976. The furniture has since been moved to Detroit, MI, Beverly and Gloucester Massachusetts, Calgary, Alberta (two locations) and now to Ancaster, Ontario. Many more children have grown up and had family dinners around the table, although I have stopped the kids from scribbling underneath the table these days.

Season of the Rug

I just thought about summer and winter rugs. This is a throwback to another time and may be a unique situation limited to my family, or limited to certain climates or something. I can remember, although it makes no sense to me now, nor did it ever make and sense to me, but we had two distinct sets of rugs, the summer and the winter.


First of all, houses all had hard wood floors. They were not an option, you got ‘em with the house. It was a sign of some sort of wealth to have carpeting, referred to as “wall to wall carpeting” and as far as I was concerned, a boon to mankind so they wouldn’t have to change the rugs. Why carpeting was permanent and rugs weren’t went way beyond my understanding. As you can probably tell, I am still mad about this almost 50 years later.

In the late spring, one would start with the rugs being vacuumed. This probably accompanied spring cleaning. These rugs could be broadloom or oriental, the only two terms I knew, but they were first vacuumed, and than moth flakes were spread upon the rugs. All furniture had to be moved to accommodate this activity. Following this procedure, the rugs were rolled into large, cigar shaped corpses, and wrapped in butcher paper to hold in the moth flakes. The paper was secured with tape of some sort, and it was all tied with string. When completed, we would carry these bodies down the stairs to the old basement, and put them high into the rafters which had spaces built to accommodate these dead soldiers. They would replace the summer carpets already stored in the rafters, without the benefit of moth flakes, having no wool content. These were, of course, sisal rugs.

Sisal rugs are woven from natural plant fibers. Like a jute, coir, or hemp rug, it has properties of durability and resilience that many artificial materials can't provide.

Sisal fibers originate in a cactus plant called Agave sisalana that grows in Africa and Brazil. Since it is a cactus, it prefers arid desert climates where other kinds of fibrous plants would be scarce. Agave sisalana has long been farmed for its internal, tensile fibers that people make into rope and twine. The fibrous stalks are cut, dried, and treated to produce tan-colored lengths.

Our sisal rugs were green and were lighter in weight than the wool, easier to store and easier, of course, to move. They were rougher underfoot than the others.

I complained bitterly twice a year when asked to help with this seemingly senseless task.

I still have no idea if this was a standard practice anywhere outside of my house. Was it the common practice or an anomaly? I have Googled looking for answers and can’t find any. It still gets me mad! Thank God we became wealthy enough to get carpeting and the practice could end.

I just couldn't help myself with this song. The title of this story was just perfect for all of this.

The Hunter Gatherer Spirit

In November of 2002 I wrote, "I went to Old Navy at lunchtime on Wednesday to see what might be on sale. I hit it at the right time as they had Clearance on sale at 65% off regular prices, or at least that was what the sign said. I asked an Old Navy employee about it and I was told, no, it’s really 30 or 35% off the last price, or off the last price it was even if the price had not been changed. I figured I’d find out when I went to check out what the prices were.


As a shopper, I am a bottom feeder by training. I’m not happy until they pay me to take it away. On the down side, I buy dumb stuff sometimes because it’s so cheap.

I tried on lots of stuff, and took four things to the register.

The lady in front of me had a few ladies tops, striped, in a few choices and they came up $1.39 on the register. When I saw the second one come up that number, I asked if I was seeing right. Yes, I was told, they were $1.99 less 30%. So, I got out of line and went over and bought five of them. Three of one color (black and red), all in a ladies large, a medium light green, waffle weave one with jewels and a black and tan in an extra large. The ladies large’s fit my 7 and 10 year old daughters just fine. The extra large fit my wife, who was no extra large.

My bill, with nine items, and 15% Canadian taxes, was $53. In US dollars (at that time) this was about 12 cents or so.

I went back yesterday but the $1.39 items were gone and I needed some things for the girls (head bands for ears) and they were very cheap in some colors, but full price in others. The register was the only way I could tell. I did buy another shirt while I was there, and it was 69% off.

Retail is fun for the consumer, I think."

Our Thermostat Concerns

In 2001 I wrote an email to my older kids:

On Saturday, while we were in Detroit, my in-laws were warm. So they went to work on the digital thermostat. They’ve never seen one before, and kept changing the temperature because it “didn’t work”, it just kept showing the same temperature (72 degrees F).

They moved it on cool so it wouldn’t be hot.

They denied most of this and I believe God came up and did it himself.

At 4:00 am this morning I noticed the heat was on and I went to investigate. They had set the thermostat at 53 degrees F and turned on the air conditioner.

We spoke to the heating guys, and they suggested we turn off all of it and let the ice block thaw, plus put towels in our furnace room to mop up the flood from the melting ice. My father-in-law wanted to pour boiling water on the ice, and he demanded an explanation of how the system works because he didn’t do anything.


All of this was years before he was diagnosed with Dementia!

Ain’t life grand!

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Childhood Memories....

Because I have no photo to include here, let me put in his favorite car from high school. I was there when he came home in spring of 1958 and found it out in front of the house! We both were excited, Mike more than me, because it was his!

In June of 2001 I wrote to my sons, “When I was in the 4th grade, a new kid moved to town and into my school. His name was Mike Mund. He was a little guy who never grew to be much more than 5’6” I think, and he was my best friend for most of my early years, at least through 10th or 11th grade. We graduated from the same high school and were in the same high school fraternity. There are many stories on this blog involving Mike, and so many more I will never have the opportunity to tell.

He went to Antioch College, and I only saw him once in a great while, as his parents had moved from Forest Park to University Blvd. near Johns Hopkins University. He stopped by (the last time I saw him) to invite us to his wedding, but we didn’t attend as Mom was pregnant with our third and it was a very far ride we didn’t want to make. I hadn’t seen him much for a few years before that, as he was living in Europe or someplace exotic. His wife went on that show about the waitresses in a hotel in Los Angeles (It’s a Living, 1980); she was one of those waitresses, Barry Youngfellow.

In 1976 or so I ran into a mutual friend who told me Mike had changed his name, gone to law school, become a lawyer and worked for Melvin Belli in San Francisco and was moving to Hawaii,

This week, with the Internet, I found him! We’ve had a few great interchanges, and it’s great to find old friends. I know all this has to do with all of my old friends turning 60 soon. I know when all of them turn, as we’ve all discussed it. He did change his name (his middle name was Youngfellow which was a secret that only his parents and I knew) and Youngfellow was now was his last name. He was an attorney, having left the theater. (He was a really good child actor, which was when I saw him perform.) He did work for Melvin Belli ( a legal folk hero sort ) and had moved to Hawaii. The “rest of the story” is one of a great practice, than some addiction problems, redemption, resurrection, a return to the world with the help of AA, several marriages, retirement to bicycle through Europe and continuing retirement for 6 more years. He now sells real estate in Mammoth Falls, CA and lives in a cabin with his dog. He is a skier and snowboarder.

I love this story! It’s really interesting to find out what happens. I can’t imagine who will pop up next!”

Over the past few years I had been in touch with my old “best friend” from elementary school.

I tried when I learned he had moved to Hawaii, and I couldn’t find him. He had changed his last name to Youngfellow some years before. Finally, a few years ago, he surfaced as a realtor in Mammoth, California. He was a ski lover, and this was his place.

We were in touch, and he explained his life story to me, and was now selling real estate and was very happy. He sent me a photo at the time which I unfortunately lost due to computer changes.

Later, he took a trip to Thailand, and loved it! He framed his return ticket, and bought a condo, I saw the photos of his place and it was beautiful. He talked about his marriage and was delighted in his new life.

Here are some pieces of a blog commentary on marriage, pieces of the September, 2006 minutes of an Ex Pats Club in Thailand and pieces of the October, 2006 minutes

October 20th, 2004 at 10:44 am Michael Youngfellow

Hysterical! Been there, done that! I was married about 6 months ago, in a Thai ceremony, and . . . it happened as you describe. It was my fourth! and definitely the BEST marriage I’ve ever had!! i just went along for the incredible ride. I definitely prefer not understanding a word or a thing that’s going on!!! I did understand that this beautiful, magnificent woman was actually hooking up with me, for life. And a few days later, after a short honeymoon, we went off to the amphur and signed on the dotted line. I’ll send you a link to my Yahoo!Photos Wedding Album

September 23 2006

Chiang Mai Expat Club – overwhelming attendance

Chiangmai Mail Reporters

On Saturday, September 10, 2005 the first official Chiang Mai Expat Club (CEC) meetings was held at the Art Caf้ and the response from the community was more than the driving force of the club ever had expected. Over 40 attendees showed up, and president Jim Cox gave a talk on the advantages of having this comparing it to the parent, Pattaya Expat Club and their experiences. He then introduced the board which comprises of Jim Cox acting president and board members Lucy Coombs, acting club secretary, Charles Boling, Thomas Matty, Alex Bomerato, Michael Youngfellow and not present David Mark.

One of the suggestions was to get involved with the Thai community in order to ‘give something back’. Michael Youngfellow then suggested there could be smaller special interest groups within the club such as a computer group, a reading group, a discussion group, a poetry group, a ladies group, a golf group or even a motorcycle

October 23, 2006ol. V No. 41 - Saturday October 7, - October 13, 2006

Jim became more somber as he read a letter from a friend of a former board member, Michael Youngfellow, who died in a bicycle accident 2 weeks ago. He asked for a moment of silent respect.

Via email to me this evening...

Dear Expats Club Members,

It is with regret that I, as CEC president, inform you that Michael Youngfellow, a founding member of the Chiangmai Expats Club, was tragically killed on Saturday, September 9, at approximately 7:30 a.m., in a roadway accident while riding his bicycle in Chiangmai. Without going into details (due to an ongoing investigation) I can tell you that while he and a cycling companion were riding their bicycles near Superhighway, Michael sustained fatal injuries after being struck by a fast-moving vehicle.

Khun Nai, Michael’s wife, is currently unavailable to share information about pending religious services (cremation ceremony) which at this time is scheduled for sometime on Tuesday

I contacted his wife and sent my condolences and a bunch of childhood memories. She was very nice and returned a lovely letter of thanks.







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