It’s Christmas! It is my favorite time of the year. I just love the lights, the sounds, the decorated trees, the people, and the wrapped gifts. I get pleasure from the candle-lit churches’ interiors. This season just seems to put the whole world in a festive mood.
And, I must confess, I like the gifts I receive. Yet, the older I get, the less I know what I want for Christmas. After all, there is just Ann and me in the house. When we see an item we want or need, we get it.
That makes it hard for the children to buy us something that we need or want, and difficult to surprise us.
Well, Ann, kids, and grandkids, not to worry, this year I stumbled across an item I wish to receive for Christmas. You will be pleased to know, I found something I really want!
It is a man’s wristwatch. Not just any wristwatch, but one that has four dials on it. It shows hours, minutes and date. The watchband is beautiful brown leather.
It is made by a company I am not familiar with, Bvlgari. (No, that is not a typo.) You can visit this company’s web site at http://www.bulgari.com/.
Now, please do not be shocked by the prices you see. Well, on second thought, you may wish to have a defibrillator nearby. But be assured, I do not wish for the most expensive item listed within the men’s watch department. Oh no, I would not impose such a sanction upon you.
The one I want - - Bvlgari-Bvlgari -- lists for a mere $12,900. But before you gasp and suck the computer screen down your throat, I want you to know I have seen it in eBay for as low as $,6,099. That’s less than listed half-price. Moreover, it is a whole lot cheaper than other Bvlgari watches shown on their web site.
I do not think that price includes applicable taxes, shipping and handling.
I know this is a tad more than you usually spend on me. Nevertheless, I feel it is a real status symbol. I’m sure it comes with a thirty-day warranty. Just think of all the people that will be impressed to know I am wearing a wristwatch that cost almost as much as the car they are driving.
I do want to make one thing very clear, though. I do not want you calling your Uncle Gordon in Texas and asking him to go to Mexico to get this for me. I want the real thing this time. I say that because that so-called genuine Rolex he got from Mexico loses time and turns my wrist green when I perspire. Too, that gray metal wrist band gives off an eerie, green glow at night.
Remember, Santa watches (Not with a Bvlgari, I’m sure) everything you do. So, remember, it’s Bvlgari.
Friday, December 19, 2008
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Searching for Panties
I have been on the Internet searching for panties. Frilly panties. No, not the kind women wear.
This past Saturday was our Friends Dinner. It is an annual event where we host a meal for four couples we chum with. And we always try to have a very nice, sit-down meal. Ann tries to find something different to fix. This year we decided to revisit the crown pork roast.
As noted, I said, “revisit.”
The last time we served this; I went on the Internet and found a web site that told how to make those little white paper thingies that are placed on the exposed bones of the roast. Those little white paper things are called panties. (Do not ask me why, because I do not know why.) However, six-plus years have past since the last crown roast, and I have forgotten how to make the panties.
So, I went to my favorite search engine, Google, and typed in crown roast panties.
I found recipes for crown rib roasts. I found recipes for crown roast stuffing. I found photos of crown roasts with panties. I found stories of women who wore only panties while fixing a crown roast. (Remind me to decline her dinner invitation, if she ever invites me.) But, I did not find how to make the crown roast panties.
In my clicking on certain web sites that I thought would take me to my desired destination, I went to places that I should not and did not want to go, pornography sites. I saw lots of panties, but none on a crown roast. In fact, I saw panties on places . . . Well, that is another story for another time.
At one web site, my anti-virus guard was activated; I was told I had contracted some kind of virus. And this virus just happened to have, and offer, a virus removal program for a mere $49.95.
Fortunately, I use another virus cleaner I had previously installed. It safely removed the virus along with the ad that wanted me to spend $49.95.
I also visited places that spoke of roasting Matt Lauer, Dean Martin, etc.
In the end, I have yet to find how to make those paper panties that go over the exposed bones of a rib roast. However, I did see a variety of panties. But they won’t fit my need for the roast.
To close this, if you know how to make those paper panties, share the secret.
This past Saturday was our Friends Dinner. It is an annual event where we host a meal for four couples we chum with. And we always try to have a very nice, sit-down meal. Ann tries to find something different to fix. This year we decided to revisit the crown pork roast.
As noted, I said, “revisit.”
The last time we served this; I went on the Internet and found a web site that told how to make those little white paper thingies that are placed on the exposed bones of the roast. Those little white paper things are called panties. (Do not ask me why, because I do not know why.) However, six-plus years have past since the last crown roast, and I have forgotten how to make the panties.
So, I went to my favorite search engine, Google, and typed in crown roast panties.
I found recipes for crown rib roasts. I found recipes for crown roast stuffing. I found photos of crown roasts with panties. I found stories of women who wore only panties while fixing a crown roast. (Remind me to decline her dinner invitation, if she ever invites me.) But, I did not find how to make the crown roast panties.
In my clicking on certain web sites that I thought would take me to my desired destination, I went to places that I should not and did not want to go, pornography sites. I saw lots of panties, but none on a crown roast. In fact, I saw panties on places . . . Well, that is another story for another time.
At one web site, my anti-virus guard was activated; I was told I had contracted some kind of virus. And this virus just happened to have, and offer, a virus removal program for a mere $49.95.
Fortunately, I use another virus cleaner I had previously installed. It safely removed the virus along with the ad that wanted me to spend $49.95.
I also visited places that spoke of roasting Matt Lauer, Dean Martin, etc.
In the end, I have yet to find how to make those paper panties that go over the exposed bones of a rib roast. However, I did see a variety of panties. But they won’t fit my need for the roast.
To close this, if you know how to make those paper panties, share the secret.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
DUCK!
It was a bright, sunny Sunday afternoon on an otherwise boring winter day. And after being cooped-up in the house for the week, I wanted out! Thus, Ann and I went for a ride.
The traffic was light, almost non-existent as we drove along Illinois Route 154. The sun was shining through the car’s windows and the heater was softly blowing warm air. In short, I was soon becoming the victim of road hypnosis. I was oblivious to the outside world.
Suddenly Ann yelled, “Duck! Duck!”
With that warning, I snapped out of my daze and immediately hunkered down as far as I could from the windshield. My eyes were scanning the road before us as well as the sky above us. I did not know what danger was about to befall us, but I was frantically looking for something. Anything!
“What? What” I worriedly asked.
Ann, pointing to my left side replied, “Over there. A duck.”
I looked to my left and caught a fleeting glimpse of a caged emu. “That’s not a duck; that’s an emu. That thing could eat a duck”, I angrily replied. “Why did you say ‘Duck!’?”
“I couldn’t think of the name of it and I wanted you to see it. All I could think of was duck,” Ann said.
“Well, the next time don’t yell Duck!” I said. “I thought a rock was coming through the windshield or an airplane was falling out of the sky. I was trying to get as low as I possibly could.”
The rest of that afternoon ride was silent as I fumed over the scare. However, I was no longer oblivious to the road ahead. After all, I might have to duck to see a duck.
The traffic was light, almost non-existent as we drove along Illinois Route 154. The sun was shining through the car’s windows and the heater was softly blowing warm air. In short, I was soon becoming the victim of road hypnosis. I was oblivious to the outside world.
Suddenly Ann yelled, “Duck! Duck!”
With that warning, I snapped out of my daze and immediately hunkered down as far as I could from the windshield. My eyes were scanning the road before us as well as the sky above us. I did not know what danger was about to befall us, but I was frantically looking for something. Anything!
“What? What” I worriedly asked.
Ann, pointing to my left side replied, “Over there. A duck.”
I looked to my left and caught a fleeting glimpse of a caged emu. “That’s not a duck; that’s an emu. That thing could eat a duck”, I angrily replied. “Why did you say ‘Duck!’?”
“I couldn’t think of the name of it and I wanted you to see it. All I could think of was duck,” Ann said.
“Well, the next time don’t yell Duck!” I said. “I thought a rock was coming through the windshield or an airplane was falling out of the sky. I was trying to get as low as I possibly could.”
The rest of that afternoon ride was silent as I fumed over the scare. However, I was no longer oblivious to the road ahead. After all, I might have to duck to see a duck.
Friday, November 28, 2008
Did You Gobble Till You Wobble
I would not, should not, eat that yam.
I should not, should not, taste that ham.
I will not let them in my mouth.
I will not let them go to the deep south.
I will not eat them here or there.
I will not eat them anywhere.
I do not like sweet taters and yam.
I think I’d rather eat a can of Spam.
I hope you gobbled,
Till you wobbled.
Happy Thanksgiving.
I should not, should not, taste that ham.
I will not let them in my mouth.
I will not let them go to the deep south.
I will not eat them here or there.
I will not eat them anywhere.
I do not like sweet taters and yam.
I think I’d rather eat a can of Spam.
I hope you gobbled,
Till you wobbled.
Happy Thanksgiving.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Too Many Medicines?
I would like to begin this week’s blog with a comment, “I think we are a nation of hypochondriacs.”
Why do I make that comment?
Simple. Take a good look at the advertisements on television. The airwaves are flooded with ads for prescribed medicines. Everywhere you look there is an ad for some medication that will make you sleep, make you stay awake, make you go the bathroom, make you stop going to the bathroom, to help you breathe, or to ease your mental problems.
During my first year at Belleville Area College, I was required to read Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World. The book was published in 1932; it spoke of an ideal world with worldwide bliss achieved through a government regulated and required pill called Soma. Though written as satire, it appears to have reached some level of prophesy.
Now, do not misunderstand me; medicines are required for the sustaining of life. I take prescribed pills everyday. Chemo-therapy has saved countless lives. But, maybe we have been led to believe we need more medicines - - Somas - - than we actually do need.
Let us face facts; if pharmaceuticals do not sell their products, no profits are made. Too, we, as a nation, are always wanting to find cures for our maladies.
Medication comes with some costs or risks involved. The warnings of the adverse effects rattled off at the end of the commercial should tell us not all is good with medicines. My former cardiologist once told me, “Medicine is poison to your body.”
In a sense, he was correct. Have you really listened to some of those adverse warnings?
One recent advertisement for a medication listed a fatal heart attack as its first adverse warning. What illness do you have that in order to control it you can die from a heart attack? And some adverse warnings seem ludicrous. A sleep aid warns drowsiness may occur. (Hello? I thought that is what we wanted from a sleep aid.) An anti-diarrhea medicine warns of constipation. (Well, at least I can leave the bathroom, now.)
This next part may be crass, but all erectile dysfunctional medicines warn of the possible adverse reaction of an erection that may last longer than four hours. I really hate to tell the drug manufacturers this, but that is every male’s fantasy.
Yes, I think we have become a nation of hypochondriacs, but it seems our cures may cause us more and actual ills.
Have a good week.
Why do I make that comment?
Simple. Take a good look at the advertisements on television. The airwaves are flooded with ads for prescribed medicines. Everywhere you look there is an ad for some medication that will make you sleep, make you stay awake, make you go the bathroom, make you stop going to the bathroom, to help you breathe, or to ease your mental problems.
During my first year at Belleville Area College, I was required to read Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World. The book was published in 1932; it spoke of an ideal world with worldwide bliss achieved through a government regulated and required pill called Soma. Though written as satire, it appears to have reached some level of prophesy.
Now, do not misunderstand me; medicines are required for the sustaining of life. I take prescribed pills everyday. Chemo-therapy has saved countless lives. But, maybe we have been led to believe we need more medicines - - Somas - - than we actually do need.
Let us face facts; if pharmaceuticals do not sell their products, no profits are made. Too, we, as a nation, are always wanting to find cures for our maladies.
Medication comes with some costs or risks involved. The warnings of the adverse effects rattled off at the end of the commercial should tell us not all is good with medicines. My former cardiologist once told me, “Medicine is poison to your body.”
In a sense, he was correct. Have you really listened to some of those adverse warnings?
One recent advertisement for a medication listed a fatal heart attack as its first adverse warning. What illness do you have that in order to control it you can die from a heart attack? And some adverse warnings seem ludicrous. A sleep aid warns drowsiness may occur. (Hello? I thought that is what we wanted from a sleep aid.) An anti-diarrhea medicine warns of constipation. (Well, at least I can leave the bathroom, now.)
This next part may be crass, but all erectile dysfunctional medicines warn of the possible adverse reaction of an erection that may last longer than four hours. I really hate to tell the drug manufacturers this, but that is every male’s fantasy.
Yes, I think we have become a nation of hypochondriacs, but it seems our cures may cause us more and actual ills.
Have a good week.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Two New Things I Have Learned
For those of you who have read this blog in the past and scrolled down, you know our motorhome was burglarized. The miscreants did about $4700 damage to steal a $434 CD changer. Of course, they emptied all our cabinets and the contents strewn all over.
I will say this has been a learning experience. No, not with the insurance company and not with the repair place. I have dealt with such entities in the past.
One day the main office of the insurance corporation called and discussed the needed repairs and the submitted estimate. There was never any question by the insurance company about what needs to be done. However, the woman with whom I was speaking kept referring to the Estimatic Department.
At first, I thought I had misunderstood her. However, throughout the conversation she kept referring to the Estimatic Department. So, I knew had not misunderstood her.
My research show the word estimatic is nonexistent. I looked in my dictionaries. I searched on the Internet. I could not find estimatic. I did find where there is some kind of computer software called Estimatic, but that was all that I could find.
Then, I began to ponder Estimatic Department. Estimatic? Is that a group of people who sat gathered around a table and estimate the estimates? Is it some large computer-like device where you feed in the data? Then it tells you if the estimate is good or bad? Is it a little person in a large room surrounded by books that tells how to read an estimate?
Then, I started to playing with the word.
Friend: “Say, Larry, those are some neat looking shoes. What are they?”
Me: “Why they’re a band new pair of Estimatics, I suppose.”
Salesperson: “Yes, sir, we’ve got just what you’re looking for. A 2006 Estimatic full of features. Why, it will even estimate your miles per gallon.”
Why cannot the estimate department simply be called the Estimate Department?
The other thing I learned is that compact disc changers are now obsolete. I find that hard to grasp considering my motorhome is a 2004 model. Ann and I visited three stores and heard the same answer, “We can get them, but we have to special order them, if we can find one.”
Everything is now run off a thing called a USB thumb drive. A thumb drive is about the size of your thumb. You transfer your CD’s to the tumb drive and you simply plug it into the radio and you can listen to 100 of your favorite CDs.
If you wish, you can plug your iPod into the USB port and listen to it through your radio. In addition, as added feature, you can even have your cell phone wirelessly connected to the radio. If your phone rings, the radio quits playing and a microphone is activated. You can drive down the road and talk without removing your hands from the steering wheel.
The only thing I see bad about that is do I really want to hear my cholesterol results in surround sound, stereo?
Now, you have learned several new things. Have a good week.
I will say this has been a learning experience. No, not with the insurance company and not with the repair place. I have dealt with such entities in the past.
One day the main office of the insurance corporation called and discussed the needed repairs and the submitted estimate. There was never any question by the insurance company about what needs to be done. However, the woman with whom I was speaking kept referring to the Estimatic Department.
At first, I thought I had misunderstood her. However, throughout the conversation she kept referring to the Estimatic Department. So, I knew had not misunderstood her.
My research show the word estimatic is nonexistent. I looked in my dictionaries. I searched on the Internet. I could not find estimatic. I did find where there is some kind of computer software called Estimatic, but that was all that I could find.
Then, I began to ponder Estimatic Department. Estimatic? Is that a group of people who sat gathered around a table and estimate the estimates? Is it some large computer-like device where you feed in the data? Then it tells you if the estimate is good or bad? Is it a little person in a large room surrounded by books that tells how to read an estimate?
Then, I started to playing with the word.
Friend: “Say, Larry, those are some neat looking shoes. What are they?”
Me: “Why they’re a band new pair of Estimatics, I suppose.”
Salesperson: “Yes, sir, we’ve got just what you’re looking for. A 2006 Estimatic full of features. Why, it will even estimate your miles per gallon.”
Why cannot the estimate department simply be called the Estimate Department?
The other thing I learned is that compact disc changers are now obsolete. I find that hard to grasp considering my motorhome is a 2004 model. Ann and I visited three stores and heard the same answer, “We can get them, but we have to special order them, if we can find one.”
Everything is now run off a thing called a USB thumb drive. A thumb drive is about the size of your thumb. You transfer your CD’s to the tumb drive and you simply plug it into the radio and you can listen to 100 of your favorite CDs.
If you wish, you can plug your iPod into the USB port and listen to it through your radio. In addition, as added feature, you can even have your cell phone wirelessly connected to the radio. If your phone rings, the radio quits playing and a microphone is activated. You can drive down the road and talk without removing your hands from the steering wheel.
The only thing I see bad about that is do I really want to hear my cholesterol results in surround sound, stereo?
Now, you have learned several new things. Have a good week.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Watch Repair. Then and Now
As I stood at the doorway into the sunroom, I paused. In the stillness of the room, I could hear the sunroom’s battery operated clock ticking. I thought, “I wonder if I oiled it, the ticking would lessen.”
That caused another memory to arise, it involved a battery operated Timex wristwatch I once owned. The story begins decades ago when I worked the 11:00 p.m. to 7:00 a.m. shift in the preparatory department of Spartan Printing Co., Inc.
I wore one of the first battery operated wristwatches made back then; it was a Timex. It did not have digital read outs and computerized thingies in it. It was, basically, a regular wind-up wristwatch, only battery powered.
One night, at the beginning of my shift, I noticed my watch was slow. I reset the time and went about my tasks for that shift. Sometime later, I looked to see the time and noticed my watch was slow, again.
A flash of brilliancy struck me. “Why not put a drop of oil in the back of the watch? Maybe it needs some lubricant.”
And, so, I popped the back casing off and placed a very small drop of oil; on some part or parts of the watch’s movements. I the resealed everything and went back to work.
Sometime later, I looked at my watch and noticed it was 3:00 a.m.; our normal lunchtime, or whatever meal it is at that hour of the day. I then stopped my work and went to a table where I customarily ate with my friends.
I thought it was strange that no one else was eating. All were quietly and busily going about their work. I looked at my wristwatch and it was, by now, ten minutes past three.
I then arose from my chair and looked at the clock on the wall. It said it was about 1:00 a.m.
I knew then the oil I had placed in my watch was causing it to run fast.
This is where I had my second flash of brilliancy. I would take the hose from the air compressor and blow the oil off the parts of the watch. I would lightly squeeze the trigger so as not blast the air inside of it and ruin my watch.
Thus, I carried out my plan.
I do not know if you know this or not, but there are many little and tiny springs and gears in those watches. And, I instantly discovered that no matter how much you try to control the airflow from an air compressor, it comes out very, very fast with great gusto.
After sweeping the parts of my watch from the floor and putting them into some kind of container, I came to realize that my oil removal plan was flawed.
The next morning, after work, I purchased another new, battery operated, Timex wristwatch. I also vowed never to try watch repair, again.
So, as I stood at the entry way to the sunroom this morning and heard the ticking of the clock, I had this story return to my thoughts. Upon recalling of the great Timex oiling fiasco, I elected to let the clock tick.
That caused another memory to arise, it involved a battery operated Timex wristwatch I once owned. The story begins decades ago when I worked the 11:00 p.m. to 7:00 a.m. shift in the preparatory department of Spartan Printing Co., Inc.
I wore one of the first battery operated wristwatches made back then; it was a Timex. It did not have digital read outs and computerized thingies in it. It was, basically, a regular wind-up wristwatch, only battery powered.
One night, at the beginning of my shift, I noticed my watch was slow. I reset the time and went about my tasks for that shift. Sometime later, I looked to see the time and noticed my watch was slow, again.
A flash of brilliancy struck me. “Why not put a drop of oil in the back of the watch? Maybe it needs some lubricant.”
And, so, I popped the back casing off and placed a very small drop of oil; on some part or parts of the watch’s movements. I the resealed everything and went back to work.
Sometime later, I looked at my watch and noticed it was 3:00 a.m.; our normal lunchtime, or whatever meal it is at that hour of the day. I then stopped my work and went to a table where I customarily ate with my friends.
I thought it was strange that no one else was eating. All were quietly and busily going about their work. I looked at my wristwatch and it was, by now, ten minutes past three.
I then arose from my chair and looked at the clock on the wall. It said it was about 1:00 a.m.
I knew then the oil I had placed in my watch was causing it to run fast.
This is where I had my second flash of brilliancy. I would take the hose from the air compressor and blow the oil off the parts of the watch. I would lightly squeeze the trigger so as not blast the air inside of it and ruin my watch.
Thus, I carried out my plan.
I do not know if you know this or not, but there are many little and tiny springs and gears in those watches. And, I instantly discovered that no matter how much you try to control the airflow from an air compressor, it comes out very, very fast with great gusto.
After sweeping the parts of my watch from the floor and putting them into some kind of container, I came to realize that my oil removal plan was flawed.
The next morning, after work, I purchased another new, battery operated, Timex wristwatch. I also vowed never to try watch repair, again.
So, as I stood at the entry way to the sunroom this morning and heard the ticking of the clock, I had this story return to my thoughts. Upon recalling of the great Timex oiling fiasco, I elected to let the clock tick.
Saturday, November 1, 2008
MAKE YOUR CHOICE
WHO IS YOUR CHOICE IN THIS CAMPAIGN?
I, like most of you, am tired of listening to and seeing advertisements of who is best for you and your needs. Each one promises that your life will be better if you follow them. You will be treated to a land of milk and honey. Each claims there is nothing artificial about their promises..
And each has employed their own public relations firm to enhance their appearances. People are hired to promote each one in the best light. Hired actors are shown not wanting to abandon their favored one’s site.
There are testimonials about who is real and who is not. There are floods of TV ads about how each will not let you down or let you go hungry.
This all seems to have been going on for more than a year.
As I hinted earlier in this blog, I am getting full of this. Enough is enough and hopefully it will come to an end soon.
By now you are saying, “Yes, Larry, I, too, will be glad when this political season comes to an end.” (Has it been a season or has it been a storm?)
However, I am not speaking of political events, campaigns or advertisements.
Rather I am speaking of the battle for you to choose between either Campbell’s Select Soup or Progresso Soup.
Each claims their soup is made with wholesome food products, like chicken breasts, and farm raised vegetables. While each claims the other’s soup is filled with monosodium glutamate, preservatives and whatevers.
To be truthful with you, canned soup tastes like canned soup; I cannot tell the difference.
I will even tell you that I cannot tell the difference between Campbell’s or Progresso’s soups from the private label brand. But I have never been a big fan of soup, so my opinion may be biased.
Maybe there really is a person out there who can say the carrots were raised on the sunny, south side hill of the Peterson-Jacobs Farm. If so, I envy her palate.
This Tuesday, the political arena will come to an end. Though I am willing to bet we will continue to suffer through the soup war.
Have a nice week. Don’t forget to vote. . . .Campbell’s or Progresso, the choice is yours.
And each has employed their own public relations firm to enhance their appearances. People are hired to promote each one in the best light. Hired actors are shown not wanting to abandon their favored one’s site.
There are testimonials about who is real and who is not. There are floods of TV ads about how each will not let you down or let you go hungry.
This all seems to have been going on for more than a year.
As I hinted earlier in this blog, I am getting full of this. Enough is enough and hopefully it will come to an end soon.
By now you are saying, “Yes, Larry, I, too, will be glad when this political season comes to an end.” (Has it been a season or has it been a storm?)
However, I am not speaking of political events, campaigns or advertisements.
Rather I am speaking of the battle for you to choose between either Campbell’s Select Soup or Progresso Soup.
Each claims their soup is made with wholesome food products, like chicken breasts, and farm raised vegetables. While each claims the other’s soup is filled with monosodium glutamate, preservatives and whatevers.
To be truthful with you, canned soup tastes like canned soup; I cannot tell the difference.
I will even tell you that I cannot tell the difference between Campbell’s or Progresso’s soups from the private label brand. But I have never been a big fan of soup, so my opinion may be biased.
Maybe there really is a person out there who can say the carrots were raised on the sunny, south side hill of the Peterson-Jacobs Farm. If so, I envy her palate.
This Tuesday, the political arena will come to an end. Though I am willing to bet we will continue to suffer through the soup war.
Have a nice week. Don’t forget to vote. . . .Campbell’s or Progresso, the choice is yours.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Sunday, October 26, 2008 - Memories
Yesterday, I returned to my boyhood home town of Sparta. I paid my respects to an old friend, Marvin Williams. Marvin and I met while both of us served on the Sparta Auxiliary Police Force. Later, I became a full time employee of the Sparta Police Department.
I guess this paying of respects is just another sign I am getting older. As I stood in line to visit with Marvin's family and to say a final goodbye to Marvin, a friend commented, "We were wondering if anybody was still around who worked with Marvin."
At first I was upset by that remark. "Just how old do they think I am?" was a thought that went through my mind. "After all, I'm only 65. That's still young by today's standards," I reasoned.
However, as I left McDaniel's Funeral Home and walked toward my car I began to realize just how much time has slipped past me.
I left the Sparta Police Department in 1969 to become a Randolph County Deputy Sheriff. 1969 is almost forty years ago. And I left the Randolph County Sheriff's Office in 1981 to work for the State of Illinois. 1981 is more than a quarter of a century gone. And, I have been retired for almost eight years.
In retrospect, maybe my friend did have a valid question regarding any of Marvin's former co-officers still being around.
When I entered the funeral home I met my old friend, Sparta Police Chief Tom Ashley. Tom says he briefly worked with Marvin in 1974. Tom is much younger than I; so maybe I am not as old as I thought.
"Who else is around?" I silently mused.
Albert Salto, Jr., John Adams, and Bob ???? (I knew his name a second ago) are still here. I don't recall who else served with us. I do know there were more. Some are gone, like Ralph Pearce, Bill Graves, Elmo Morrison, and Carl Adams. And as is the natural course of life, others will follow.
There is an old song's lyric that goes like this, "Wedding bells are breaking up this old gang of mine."
In reviewing the text I just typed, above, I wish it were wedding bells that are breaking up the old gang. Then, we would have memories to make; not like today, memories to recall.
Watch for more bloggings on this site. I have come to miss writing.
I guess this paying of respects is just another sign I am getting older. As I stood in line to visit with Marvin's family and to say a final goodbye to Marvin, a friend commented, "We were wondering if anybody was still around who worked with Marvin."
At first I was upset by that remark. "Just how old do they think I am?" was a thought that went through my mind. "After all, I'm only 65. That's still young by today's standards," I reasoned.
However, as I left McDaniel's Funeral Home and walked toward my car I began to realize just how much time has slipped past me.
I left the Sparta Police Department in 1969 to become a Randolph County Deputy Sheriff. 1969 is almost forty years ago. And I left the Randolph County Sheriff's Office in 1981 to work for the State of Illinois. 1981 is more than a quarter of a century gone. And, I have been retired for almost eight years.
In retrospect, maybe my friend did have a valid question regarding any of Marvin's former co-officers still being around.
When I entered the funeral home I met my old friend, Sparta Police Chief Tom Ashley. Tom says he briefly worked with Marvin in 1974. Tom is much younger than I; so maybe I am not as old as I thought.
"Who else is around?" I silently mused.
Albert Salto, Jr., John Adams, and Bob ???? (I knew his name a second ago) are still here. I don't recall who else served with us. I do know there were more. Some are gone, like Ralph Pearce, Bill Graves, Elmo Morrison, and Carl Adams. And as is the natural course of life, others will follow.
There is an old song's lyric that goes like this, "Wedding bells are breaking up this old gang of mine."
In reviewing the text I just typed, above, I wish it were wedding bells that are breaking up the old gang. Then, we would have memories to make; not like today, memories to recall.
Watch for more bloggings on this site. I have come to miss writing.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
A Bad Day
When I arrived at the storage area and saw a pile of glass lying on the ground at the front, passenger tire, I knew. . .
The miscreants pried on the entry door and couldn't get in. Then they pried on the drivers door and couldn't get in. They tried to break the glass on the drivers side door, but all they did was knick it with whatever they used. So, they broke the side glass on the passenger side and crawled through.
There were two other RV's there. The old 1987 Executive was broken into and they used the bed spread to throw over the broken glass in mine so they could crawl in and not get cut.
They threw everything out of the cabinets onto the sofa and the floor. They stole my $30 DVD player and ripped out my 10-disc CD changer ($434.00).
My dentist's travel trailer was broken into, also. They took his one-month-old flat screen TV.
Near as we can figure, it happened between Sunday evening and 11:00 AM today (when I discovered it).
The gray/black stuff in the photos is a liquid fingerprint developer.
I had to laugh when the cop sprayed my MH. He was kind of shocked and said, "Whoa! You must wax this thing. Because this stuff is just running off."
Pics are attached.
MH goes to Capetown RV tomorrow for an estimate and for repair. They said it will take about two weeks.
The miscreants pried on the entry door and couldn't get in. Then they pried on the drivers door and couldn't get in. They tried to break the glass on the drivers side door, but all they did was knick it with whatever they used. So, they broke the side glass on the passenger side and crawled through.
There were two other RV's there. The old 1987 Executive was broken into and they used the bed spread to throw over the broken glass in mine so they could crawl in and not get cut.
They threw everything out of the cabinets onto the sofa and the floor. They stole my $30 DVD player and ripped out my 10-disc CD changer ($434.00).
My dentist's travel trailer was broken into, also. They took his one-month-old flat screen TV.
Near as we can figure, it happened between Sunday evening and 11:00 AM today (when I discovered it).
The gray/black stuff in the photos is a liquid fingerprint developer.
I had to laugh when the cop sprayed my MH. He was kind of shocked and said, "Whoa! You must wax this thing. Because this stuff is just running off."
Pics are attached.
MH goes to Capetown RV tomorrow for an estimate and for repair. They said it will take about two weeks.
Addendum to 10 20 08 Morning Report, Part II
Is it too late to switch sessions from one room to another?
I do not know the true answer as I do not know if our submitted material for the state magazine has already been submitted to the printer. If it has, then we cannot do such.
Presently we have two each, two-hour programs in Ottawa A and both require a screen.
I will go to my basement sometime today (if my memory recalls this) and check on my projection screen.
As I previously noted, there is always a "Gotchya!" lurking in the background.
I do not know the true answer as I do not know if our submitted material for the state magazine has already been submitted to the printer. If it has, then we cannot do such.
Presently we have two each, two-hour programs in Ottawa A and both require a screen.
I will go to my basement sometime today (if my memory recalls this) and check on my projection screen.
As I previously noted, there is always a "Gotchya!" lurking in the background.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Addendum to 10 20 08 Morning Report
PDG Larry,
I didn't get it done last week as I ran out of time. However, I am back in Springfield today and stopped at PALH and took a look at the the rooms. The three Governors room have a light colored wall covering that has a light a brocade pattern. I think it would work in lieu of a screen if necessary. The Ottawa A room has a dark wall at the front so it would need a screen. The Ottawa B room has a white front wall which should work in lieu of a screen. I hope this helps. It would be best if the prsenters that need a screen can be located in the same rooms.
Yours in LionismLion Bill Gillespie, IPDG 1-E
I didn't get it done last week as I ran out of time. However, I am back in Springfield today and stopped at PALH and took a look at the the rooms. The three Governors room have a light colored wall covering that has a light a brocade pattern. I think it would work in lieu of a screen if necessary. The Ottawa A room has a dark wall at the front so it would need a screen. The Ottawa B room has a white front wall which should work in lieu of a screen. I hope this helps. It would be best if the prsenters that need a screen can be located in the same rooms.
Yours in LionismLion Bill Gillespie, IPDG 1-E
My Fellow Lions,
When I first began writing my newspaper column, no one acknowledged my column or me for several years. I felt like hanging a sign on my typewriter (Yes, typewriter) asking, “Is anyone there?”
No one else has weighed-in on the late fees issue. Perhaps you are busy with other matters. I can understand that. Perhaps you do not want to cause any dissatisfaction. I can understand that. But, I have begun to wonder, “Is anyone there?”
So, presently, I am leaning toward doing what has been done in the past; we take what we get. I guess I lean this way because of what I think could be a que and cry from our Lions when the registration form is published in the magazine.
Walk-ins will still be $30. We’ll give no ground on that. However, I am still open to comments before closing the chapter on this issue at week’s end. Please, speak up.
I cannot find amethod to attach several forms Lion Betsy has forwarded to me. Thus, I will e-Mail them to you. Each form deals with registrations. I will let Lion CC Ron do his Excel sorting, by alphabet and by district, for me. He can then send it on to all of us, if he chooses. (In advance, thanks, Lion CC Ron.)
Contractually, we were to have 25 room nights at the Hotel. Here is what our Hotel said yesterday:
“Good afternoon! Attached is the most current list of guests who have made reservations within the Lions of Illinois room block. Currently, there are 61 room nights reserved out of the 25 room nights contracted. YEAH!! You are over your room block. The cut-off date for reservations is October 31, 2008. As of today, the Hotel still has plenty of rooms left to sell on the weekend of your event so getting extra reservations is not a problem at this point. Please let me know if you see any discrepancies on the list.
Thank you and have a great day!
Malinda Beagles
Event Manager
President Abraham Lincoln Hotel and Conference Center
701 East Adams
Springfield, IL 62701
(217) 544-8800 Ext. 4156
mbeagles@PresidentAbrahamLincolnHotel.com”
Such news makes me glad; as I am sure, it does you. However, we have to get attendance up or we will have a big food bill. And we will not break even. Presently, as you will see by the attachments, we are 89 away from the 200 goal. WE CAN DO IT!!!!!! If we try hard enough.
Has anybody thought of a way to light a fire in the bellies of the Lions to get them to the Forum?
In my district’s newsletter (yet to be out) I noted there are three fears when starting out. Fear of loss. Fear of failure. And fear of success. Let us strive for fear of success.
Have a good day.
Lion Larry
Cc: Lion SST Betsy
CC Ron Belcher
08 – 09 Council
When I first began writing my newspaper column, no one acknowledged my column or me for several years. I felt like hanging a sign on my typewriter (Yes, typewriter) asking, “Is anyone there?”
No one else has weighed-in on the late fees issue. Perhaps you are busy with other matters. I can understand that. Perhaps you do not want to cause any dissatisfaction. I can understand that. But, I have begun to wonder, “Is anyone there?”
So, presently, I am leaning toward doing what has been done in the past; we take what we get. I guess I lean this way because of what I think could be a que and cry from our Lions when the registration form is published in the magazine.
Walk-ins will still be $30. We’ll give no ground on that. However, I am still open to comments before closing the chapter on this issue at week’s end. Please, speak up.
I cannot find amethod to attach several forms Lion Betsy has forwarded to me. Thus, I will e-Mail them to you. Each form deals with registrations. I will let Lion CC Ron do his Excel sorting, by alphabet and by district, for me. He can then send it on to all of us, if he chooses. (In advance, thanks, Lion CC Ron.)
Contractually, we were to have 25 room nights at the Hotel. Here is what our Hotel said yesterday:
“Good afternoon! Attached is the most current list of guests who have made reservations within the Lions of Illinois room block. Currently, there are 61 room nights reserved out of the 25 room nights contracted. YEAH!! You are over your room block. The cut-off date for reservations is October 31, 2008. As of today, the Hotel still has plenty of rooms left to sell on the weekend of your event so getting extra reservations is not a problem at this point. Please let me know if you see any discrepancies on the list.
Thank you and have a great day!
Malinda Beagles
Event Manager
President Abraham Lincoln Hotel and Conference Center
701 East Adams
Springfield, IL 62701
(217) 544-8800 Ext. 4156
mbeagles@PresidentAbrahamLincolnHotel.com”
Such news makes me glad; as I am sure, it does you. However, we have to get attendance up or we will have a big food bill. And we will not break even. Presently, as you will see by the attachments, we are 89 away from the 200 goal. WE CAN DO IT!!!!!! If we try hard enough.
Has anybody thought of a way to light a fire in the bellies of the Lions to get them to the Forum?
In my district’s newsletter (yet to be out) I noted there are three fears when starting out. Fear of loss. Fear of failure. And fear of success. Let us strive for fear of success.
Have a good day.
Lion Larry
Cc: Lion SST Betsy
CC Ron Belcher
08 – 09 Council
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