GIFTS FOR THE NEEDY

I do not recall exactly which conquering hero of central Europe it was, but one of them - somehow I think it might have been Otto Von Bismarck - was reported to have taken pity on the starving populace and
had large wagonloads of potatoes shipped into the desolate area.

He did not realize that the natives considered the potato to be poisonous and unfit for human consumption. So, they fed the spuds to few remaining pigs and other livestock and did as best they could for their
own provender.

In more modern times relief-minded groups have banded together and shipped freighter loads of bulk grains to starving people around the world....our excess grains, really. They did not take into consideration that
the people actually in need had no way of grinding, crushing, boiling, cooking or baking such raw grains into edible portions. No doubt the only people who gained anything from the gift were those brokering agents who ferried the
stuff around seeking potential buyers. Bags of barley grain were sent to areas where the use of such a grain was totally no forage , fences, stables, feed stocks or farms with which to sustain the herds. Their needs was for “now” rather
than some months, or years away.

I sometimes wonder if we are doing the same sort of dis-service to the concept of giving by ignoring true needs. Could it be that many of us are contributing primarily for the inner satisfaction we, ourselves, feel from
having helped to sustained people in times of dire need. Or, what we considered to have been times of crisis in their lives.

Faulty, thoughtless giving only excaberates the plight of the needy at times. In some cases it many be prove to have been worse than not giving at all.

Think about it carefully.

Try to imagine what you would really and truly need if you were in a like situation. That is a difficult thing for most of us to do, because we have not the slightest understanding of what it is to be dismally poor and
forlornly cut off from the rest of humanity either here at home or in lands far away. Look in any direction. The needy are awaiting your sincere, thoughtfully considered, useful help.

A.L.M. August 30, 2002 [c-393wds]

 

WINDS OF CHANGE

Nothing seems to bring - no one thing, that is, so much change as does the wind.

It is the tortured soul of the storm, yet it can also be the gentle swish of a breeze soothing our sweat-soaked, sun-stroked bodies.

The wind is winsome and alluring when it chooses to be, and
lethargic and indolent if that be its mood. It can swirl up a miniature whirlwind of leaves, dust and candy wrappers in your yard as a harmless prank or exercise, or it can parent a larger version called a tornado which can crush your
home to total ruin. Hurricanes can undo man’s best building efforts in moments.

The wind can be both saint-like and satanic. It can cleanse the air of impurities so that man can breathe healthy, fresh air from afar, or it can bring heavy sheets of smog and pollution to confuse and choke an
entire area. It can power the giant dust or sand storms and chance the face of man’s Earth from beaches to dunes or plowed land and pastures to dust bowls!

When you see a wall of tumbleweed coming toward you in desert areas it is the wind which powers its terrifying movement. Seek shelter, but if cover is not available, lie down, protect your face and eyes, and the
wind -powered wall of withered weed will pass over you and hit the first upright building or cliff it can find. There, again, the wind will work it’s magic and fashion any excess into pagoda-like and other fantastic shapes, just as it does as
it fingers snow swirls on rooftops in snowy climes. That’s a glimpse of the wind’s artistic side just as are the remarkable patterns it etches out on the surface of sand dunes and expanses and , over many years, on the face of rocky crags.
The wind, you see, is also patient and tenacious. It can be in no hurry, if it wishes to assume that guise.

The wind can be gracious as well as deadly. It can drift afar and cause draught and desolation throughout huge areas of arable land bringing death to both man and beast. It can whip up sudden,
unpredictable storms in shallow lakes and coastal waters and be the bane of boatsmen, yet it can push even large ships across the world’s widest oceans, if asked to do so, by sturdy sails properly mounted and controlled wisely.

It’s here! It’s gone! It’s everywhere - and nowhere all at once!

Wind - the eternal power and sprit of Nature. The amazing wind!

A.L. M. August 30, 2002 [c-441wds]

 

K-RATION MEMORY

We have, long since, used up all humorous materials concerning boxed K-rations we used in the armed forces many years ago.

I want to make a positive statement in regard to them and to pose a question or two.

There was one item in particular in those K-rations - not all of them - but at intervals, which I liked. I always felt it was a special treat when I cut open a waxy brown box and found therein a small can of food marked
“Pork With Apple Flakes” printed on a small label on top of the small can in generic white and black. I’ve been looking for a civilian version of the same delicious combination... well, since 1945, I suppose.

I even tried to interest a meat packing company in the area to give the recipe a try. We have an abundance of hogs in this Shenandoah Valley of Virginia and plenty more along the mountains to the east and
west on each side of us, and more apples than we can count. It seemed like good business to use up the less than top-quality pork critters and the less than perfect apples to be ground into a pork and apple flakes spread ... enough
meat to keep it on display in the meat sections at the supermarket, from which it could, logically, migrate in to the Deli and the Sandwich Makings areas.

No one there would even listen to me. It was commonly know, to them, it seems, that nothing good ever went into K-rations box or C-rations can and that, certainly, nothing good could ever be expected to come from any of
them.

Maybe some firm will see the potential for profits in such a simple food product and start producing it again. It may be that some already done so.

Do any of you readers know of such a product being on the shelves at our markets today? Maybe some of you people who work all day setting up grocery can displays - pyramids, circles, triangle towers, blocks or
whatever, which we then tear down bit by bit will understand the search I’ve been making.


If you do. E-mail me, please.

Just tell me where, and stand back outta my way!

A.L.M. August 29, 2002 [c-386wds]

 

QUESTING

Even with centuries of hindsight, we still have to wonder - even to question the sanity of people in the past who dared to go against all the best wisdom of their time to make discoveries which have, often,
reshaped civilization as we know it. And, we might note at this point, not always for good.

A common example about which many school kids wonder is that of Christopher Columbus.

I assume the textbooks still make much of people of his era thinking that the world was flat and that if one went too near the edge one would fall into oblivion. As a kid I wondered how the water stayed where it
was, if the ships went over the edge of the world so readily. Children question a great many things adults place before them as fact.

I wonder if our present estimate of what inventors, explorers and others in every field of endeavor may be slightly awry? I have a strong feeling the people of the Middle Ages, let’s say, for example, were not as
dumb; certainly not as “stupid” as we seem to think they must have been. Without doubt, historians and others have, in an attempt to show the modernity of their particular generation bad-mouth past thinkers along the same lines
to add to their own stature. We may be guilty of doing the same thing today, as we compare our space achievements to the science fiction concepts of Jules Verne, and others, long ago.

We should be appreciative of the hard work and serious thought of the oldsters put into civilizations advances rather than trying to minimize their contributions to make our appear better. Think about it If some of
those men and women had all the tools, equipment, devices, informational stores and encouragement we accept as being normal today - think what their inventions and discoveries may have been!

It took more than just a lot of self-confidence for those in previous generations. They faced obstacles which are unknown to us today. Many were attempting to do thing which were, for instance, condemned and
forbidden by the Church - then the ruling power in both a religious and at temporal sense. Thinkers, in those days, undertook to develop portions of life which remained a mystery to many. Their heritage dictated they consider cosmic
lore, astrology, necromancy, numerology and such backgrounds of inherited material to guide their investigations. Those who had the nerve to step out in distinct investigative paths of their own often found success in new
discoveries.

Old Chris may have been told the world was flat, square, or whatever, but he could see and he was aware the way it seemed to be, indeed, must be judging from the stars and planets he saw in the sky along with
the sun and the moon. No doubt many people thought the world was, indeed, flat, and we still have some people today who believe the Earth on which they reside is flat. Columbus had some people, albeit a minority, I suppose,
who thought the world was round. He gets credit for proving it to the satisfaction of many but not all.

The past is a gold mine ideas for us to seek out and develop. They are largely those ideas which failed when tried in ancient times, but with today’s equipment and informational sources we can certainly make
some of the oldsters dreams come true.

What is your particular field of interest or concern? Lest we be called “ignorant” or “stupid” by coming generations, let’s get busy and invent, create, devise, re-arrange something - a product or a process - which
will serve mankind’s needs.

A.L.M. August 23, 2002 [c-621wds]

 

SLANTED

It can happen

Some of the little folders that come in the mail by way of “Junk Mail” are worth reading.

Of course, they are often “slanted”. They are written to present a specific viewpoint and carefully crafted to sell you on a product or a service. Some are pretty far out. A few prove to be very practical.

One such folder you may have been received in the mail at your home this week It is a purple and white, four-page newsletter from the American Cancer Society.

Read the boxed in article on page three. It’s the one toward the outer edge and it is in white print on a purple background. It concerns stomach cancer and notice that there is not one lecturing word against
smoking, gluttony, couch-potato-ism, or pesticides. It’ s strictly about stomach cancer with facts presented thereunto:

. You will learn that there will be 21,000 cases of stomach cancer in the U.S. in 2002. 12,400 will die.

. most victims will be in the 60-70 age bracket.

. used to be a major killer in U.S. but it is now ‘way down the list.

. Cause? No one knows for sure. Cured, salted and smoked foods?

.Eat more fruits and vegetables.

.Use of antibiotics with young children kills germ which causes it.

. Advice. Eat 5 or more servings of fruits and veggies per day.

. there is far less stomach cancer in the U.S. than in other countries.
Let’s try to keep it that way.

That is “slanted”, in one sense, you might say, but in a positive manner. Watch for this particular leaflet in your “Junk Mail” this week
It should be easy to find among the credit card application form offers. Or, you can bring up www.cancer.org. and learn more about it on line.

A.L.M. August 27, 2002 [c-312wds]

 

KATMANDU DOIN’S

For many year I have wanted to have a good reason for starting a piece off with the word “Katmandu”. This is, about as close as I’ll get to doing so, I suppose, so I’d best make the most of it while I can.

Katmandu, in case you are lost, is in Nepal. In fact, Katmandu - more properly Kath-mandu - is the capital city of Nepal . The small nation is enclosed by India on the west and south sides and by China on the north
and east and it is no stranger to conflict and disturbance.

Kathmandu is a city I have long thought to be one of the few exotic locales remaining. The borders of Nepal have always seemed somewhat indefinite in relation to its neighbors, too, which has caused
friction over the ages and that has resulted in numerous stories many of which have gone untold.

Nepal is, once again, in the news right now because the nation has a ”terrorist” problem which has plagued them for over six years. They want to rid themselves of this problem once and for all, and now, we find,
India has decided to help them do so.

The rebels disrupting life in Nepal are a Maoist extremist group intent on bringing communism to Nepal. In 1951 the king, himself, took over the government which had been in the Rama family from 1846 and
declared the country to be a constitutional monarchy. The Rama family had seen to it that a member of the family was always the prime Minister and that pattern changed at once. Since that time Nepal has become more and
more acknowledged by the rest of the world as a worthy nation.

In 1990 a pro-democracy movement forced King Birendra to lift a prevailing ban on political parties and to appoint an opposition leader to head the interim government as prime minister. The liberal Nepali
Congress Party won in the first free election for a decade. The Communist Party made a strong showing, and a small but growing Maoist guerrilla force has been seeking to overthrow the government ever since.

Corruption haunted the government offices of many years, Parliament was a fragile structure of weak alliances and coalitions, but ineffective. In 1999, the political scene changed when the majority of seats went
to the Neptali Congress Party and a famous Neptali freedom fighter who was imprisoned for fourteen years by the King’s government, was named Prime Minister.

Nepal became a subject of international news. June 1, 2002 when the popular King Birendra was shot and killed by his equally popular son Crown Prince Dipendra. Seldom has a nation experienced such as
laughter. Angered at the family’s disapproval of his choice of a bride, the Crown P
nce Dipendra also killed his mother several of his family, then shot himself. I find it interesting that the official crowned Dipendra King while he remained in a coma from his self-inflicted gunshot and then, on June 4th, Prince
Gyanendra, the younger brother of Birendra, was named king. Just what this had to do with the maintenance of the blood line ,I have not yet figured out, but there has to be a logical reason for such actions.

The Maoists agreed to a cease fire in July, but peace talks broke down. They launched a series of deadly attacks and Nepal’s King Gyanendra declared a state of emergency in November.

It has not been made clear if Nepal asked for help or if India realizes that a strong communist force so near their own border was a potential threat to their own well-being. Thus far, they have provided two helicopters and
numerous transportation units and arms and such aid is to be expanded.

Nepal is now a among those nations combating terrorist activities and help from India may well be the sensible way to solve the problem.

Often we seem to get the idea that only the United States of America provides assistance to other nations, and it is good to see India - the world’s largest democracy - helping Nepal - one of the world’s poorest
nations - crush their terrorist enemy.

A.L.M. August 24, 2002 [c-702wds]

 

JOLENE CLINE

It is wonderful to be taken by surprise!

I have known Jolene Cline for years, I watched her grown up, and I knew she sang well and at every opportunity. She was intently interested in music of a religious nature. Several years we were both on the same
bill. We did an opening or warm-up routine for a show “An Evening With Steve Bennett” who continues to be one of the finest masters of the guitar in all its guises performing today. I felt humbled and honored to be asked to “open”
for Steve Bennett, and I think Jolene must have felt the same way.

It was at a private home and was billed as a “House Concert”. Seating was provided for well over one hundred and twenty guests, and Francis Stout, our Host in who’s home we were gathered introduced Jolene
Cline to the waiting audience. Tall, statuesque, and smiling pleasantly, Jolene sang her songs and they were well received. I followed with a set of originals including one called ”Chesapeake Bay” because Steve Bennett lives at
Gloucester Point, Va. on the bay.

It was a wonderful experience for me and a good evening for all. It was the last time I sang in public and that has been two years ago, at least. We were invited back the second year, but illness
prevented me from being there. I have seen and talked with Jolene Cline every time I visit the doctor’s office in which she works. I remember asking her: “Still singing?” And she assured me she was.

Just recently, our daughter Elizabeth, who lives in Hampton, Va. , attended a Methodist Retreat at Blackstone,Va. and Jolene was Music Leader for the group. This morning Elizabeth surprised me as she handed me
two CD’s and I am listening to Jolene sing at this moment.

One is titled “A Little Bit of Heaven”. It includes ten favorite songs. The other: “It’s All About Love”. has eleven well-known songs. One the first disc she has Jeff Duffield on piano and strings, Scott Linton, drums and
Bobby Meadows on bass guitar. On the “All About Love” CD she is joined by the “Celebration Four” quartet and additional musicians, Brian Sutton on fiddle and mandolin, Brad Corbin on steel guitar. John Gates, drums and Gary
Green plays harmonica with consumate skill.
The members of the quartet are: Martin Cline (Daddy), Dick Coffman, Garold Senger and Nolan Cline.

The variety of selections and accompaniment allows Jolene to show off additional nuances of a remarkably talent. Recorded at Majors Studio, Waynesboro, Va. CD’s and cassettes are available at P.O. Box 12,
New Hope, Va. 24469. Booking information and CD’s are yours at (540) 363-5641.

How nice it is to know someone who is on the way up in the entertainment field!

Jolene Cline! I knew her when.

A.L.M. August 23, 2002 [c-483wds]

 
SEAWEED ANYONE?

I find that a dozen or more seaweed varieties are edible, but because it is said to be in that state, does not mean I have to
eat it. I plan to take it very cautiously possibly trying one after another.

Such restrictions we place upon ourselves are silly, I suppose, because there is strong evidence to show that mankind has consumed seaweed in some form for a long time, sometimes out of necessity and others
times, it appears, by choice. Furthermore, I have probably eaten it and not been aware of having done so. Many oriental and exotic dishes make use of one or more of the edible types, and I would imagine some “health foods”
constructors must incorporate a bit of seaweed in their concoctions now and then.

Initially, I have to learn which-is-which. It’s a lot like gathering mushrooms, I’d say. You’ve got to know the good from the bad - the edible weed from the forbidden weed. The look so much alike to the beginner
and, let’s face it, they don’t appear to be appetizing in the least. You may pass good ones by while seeking some which look better.
The most popular variety is a brown algae an it grows just under surface of the water. Other types thrive best at four feet below the surface which makes it more difficult to gather an edible portion. Seaweed, by the way, do not
have roots. They hang onto rocky surfaces with what watermen call “hold fasts” or “grippers”. The strongest storms can’t tear them loose so don’t even think about taking whole plants. Where would you keep them anyway? Oh,
you plan to eat them?

Back off. Such urgency can lead to disappointment. Some require washing, cleaning, cooking and even re-cooking to become tasty or even acceptable.

I haven’t found any great collection of seaweed recipes in most cookbooks thus far, but I’m still looking. There are several versions of a soup called Mizo which makes use of dried kelp and there is a Japanese type
of much the same thing called Zoni.

Other types of edible seaweed you make watch for include:
dulce, laver, majoran, and Irish moss.
A.L.M. August 20, 2002 [c-371wds]

 
ALWAYS RED!

Why can’t fire engines continue to be red?

Fire department vehicles have always been red. That was the color which denoted danger of fire and the color was an assurance that help was on the way. In recent years this has been ignored and all over the
country we now have green fire engines, yellow, white, blue and, I dare say, one or two plaid or psychedelically decorated fire engines in multi-colors, as well.

Red was the accepted color for fire engines because of the long range of recognition of the color. Anyone can see red from afar.

So, with that scientific reason in mind, the designers went on the decree that blaze orange should be used for all hunting season garments because of the long range visibility of that color which can be seen from
afar.

Other planners insisted that school buses and highway repair and maintenance vehicles and equipment, must be painted yellow. Why? Because of the long range visibility of that color. Anyone can see it from afar.

The bright, clean, clear contrast white was chosen by other experts because it could be seen from afar.

Small, wonder, then, that someone eventually came to think that Irish green was best, or Mediterranean blue, or Mexican Magenta and our fire engines lost something which had long been the most recognized
emergency vehicles.

Rescue units come in all colors, it seems. The word “AMBULANCE” spelled backwards is to be emblazoned on their fronts for easy recognition in rear-view mirrors ahead of them. Anyone can see them from afar.

Another reason used by all is that the insurance companies are said to offer rates when vehicles are done up in a defensive colors.

Complainers, too, are easy to see from afar, but I still like my fire engines done up in a good coat of ”fire engine red” enamel - all brass or chrome fittings polished and a black-spotted Dalmatian hound aboard to
help find the fire plugs.

A.L.M. August 22, 2002 [c-337wds]

 

SEPTEMBER 12TH

It might be wise for us to be somewhat concerned about September 12th, the day after the much-planned anniversary observances of the 11th.

It appears that just about all TV shows seem to think they are obligated to do a re-run of the September 11th events on the anniversary date. Others are planning some elaborate “specials” marking the day and
there will be, no doubt, announcements forthcoming which will be naming or re-naming streets, avenues, parks, schools, and who knows what else, after someone killed at either the New York of D.C. sites.

There is a marked danger here in overdoing the whole thing. What a terrific let-down this is going to provide for survivors and relatives of those who died? After September 11th and in the weeks following the
tragedy will seem to have been forgotten, I fear.

This would seem to me to be a time for simple, uncomplicated acts of remembrance rather than a re-enactment of all the details of the tragic time. Not that those things should be forgotten, of course...far from
it, but to bring them back in full-force when memory is so recent is unthinkable in my book.

Much more in keeping with the solemnity of the occasion, we could observe religious ceremonies in one or the other of the religious faiths represented among the dead and injured. Care should be taken, too, it
would seem to me, to include among those honored those individuals who survived the attacks. They, in turn, should take this as a special time in which to thank those volunteers who came so readily to their rescue in moments of
crisis. It would be a time in which these people might acknowledge the assistance of any who have aided them in “getting on with their lives” after the events of a year ago. Much remedial love and care has been expended by
many people and groups in the past year to help victims regain some assurance that human values endure in spite of such a terrible setback.

Mark the occasion in some, simple, sincere manner, if you wish, but let’s not overdo it and cause needless hurt.
A.L.M. August 18, 2002 [c-368wds]

 
LET’S GO TO THE FAIR

Fall is Fair Time throughout the nation.

Fairs are not so numerous as they seem to have been not too long ago. The ones remaining are largely in rural areas or in larger cities which are dependent on agricultural income from the surrounding area.

The first fair I remember attending was in Norfolk, Virginia, a costal city far removed from what we thought of as being farm land. I remember seeing chickens, ducks, cattle, hogs and other farm animals, but the
main events of the fair for me, and, I suppose, for the adults who took me, was racing. In all its forms - racing was the feature I most remember.

I liked horse races but they seemed to be over too soon. The excitement was so short-lived it was all over before I could identify with a favored horse and rider. I still feel that way. Too fast.

My favorite was harness racing ... the sulkies!

A driver was seated on a narrow, rather precarious shelf, perched there between the spinning wheels and immediately to the rear of the horse. From that “roosting” area, he encouraged his horse to drag the cart
around the track with seeming abandon. The driver was always intent to try to take advantage of any flaw he could detect in the other driver’s movements. Very often the horses seemed to angticipate what wsas likely to happen
and what they were expected to do. More skill seemed to be required in harness racing, and not all of it was predictable, either.
There was a suprising hushed sound and lack of loud noise with the harness racing, too. There was the soft whirring of the wire wheels. The sound of rapidly beating hooves pounding the dirt track. Bursts of cheers
and jeers from the crowd watching; fear expressed that a cart might topple over at times - with good reason. The light carts would leave the track surface for a second or so, and the driver would lean in toward the inner rail until
sometimes they look like a racing schooner man at sea leaning out over the water.

The carts weighed well over a hundred pounds in the ealry 1800’s when they replaced racing wagons. Over the years they have lost weight until today they weigh in at about forty pounds. I have often thought
that if the seat were a solid strip of metal rather than the weight-saving strips, the contraption might become airbourne with the seat acting as a wing. Around 1872 a bow-shaped axle was invented and form the bike-like cart
which is the prevailing type today. The design enabled the horses to run even more eagerly, since they lost their natural fear of clipping their heels on axles, when they really felt like turning loose.

Ocasionally, a cloud of dust trailed after each passing group, but most tracks had a sprinkler wagon to wet the place down a bit before the acutal running.

My first and only early experience with automobile racing ended in a tragedy. To this day I have mixed feelings concerning car racing of any kind and I keep re-living that initial experience.
The car in that race was a boxy-looking “Maxwell, probably a 1921 or ‘22 mode cut down and soiued-up as a racer. It was painted a violent, fire-engine red and it was quite visible as it came roaring down toward
the grandstand. It was leading the pack by seveal lengths and, then, just as it started into the curve to our right, it swerved suddenly,
and did an end-over
-end tumble. It took to top layer of hay bales forming a barricade of bales of hay erected to protect concession stands of the fair beyond. It landed on a “kewpee doll” concession tent and burst into flames. The driver was killed but
it seems to me the two people in the tent got out in time.

To this day , I find it all coming back as I try to watch stock car racing and other vehicular competitions on TV. I sometimes think this might be another case of: too much ...too soon. Kids are not grown-ups. We
need to remind oursleves of that from time-to-time.

A.L.M. August 16, 2002 [c-714wds]

 

A “PERSHER”

For some strange reason I have never discovered, an older friend of mine in
southwestern Virginia used the term ”persher” when talking about the railroad which
was, in those days,the smokey, life blood of our town.

I quickly realized he was referring to steam engines used to “push” trains up the
shaper inclines, rather than those which pulled the string of cars. To him a pusher was
always a “persher”... a specific type of engine. I never made any attempt to correct his
usage or to question in any way, but I always used the proper pronounciaion when
talking with him. In all fairness, I must mention that he never once tried to correct my
usuage of the word, either.

We often talked about railroading from the “persher” viewpoint because his
brother was a semi-retired railroad engineer who actually drove the huge, coal
powered monsters for many years. His “run”, as he grew older, consisted of about twenty
miles or so...ten of riding as a tag car to the freight train from the Yard in Roanoke. He
then did about six or eight miles until they arrived at the lower edge of the mountain.
We always called it “The Christiansburg Mountiain”. It probably had another name, but
I don’t remember ever hearing it called anything else printable. It was so named
because, at the top of the long gradeo, one arrived at the town of Christiansburg -
named after William Christian who came from the Shenandoah Valley into the Roanoke
Valley. Others with the westward urge went on into the New River Valley and then the
Holston Valley, but all had to climb the mountain at Christiansburg. The historic Valley
Piike twisted and turned its way more or less parallel with the tracks. Now, Interstate 81
pretty well flattens out much of the terrain but when I was a teenager cars working
their way up the crooked, unpaved highway used to seem to give off more stream
from oveheated radiators than did the steam powered trains.

It was a daily trip for his brother, the enineer, and some days, when the traffic
was heavy - mostly long strings of a hundred or more, empty coal cars being taken back
to the mining areas, he made the trip several times each day. They had a steep grade
and a long one to climb from the realtively low Roanoke-Salem-Vinton (Roanoke Valley
area) up to Rose Valley, I think it was called, and at Elliston and Shawsville the grade
grew steeper. That’s when “brother’s persher come to life”.

The railroad system could not have continued to exist without his brother’s
assistance in getting the cars over the crest of the mountain. Once there, he would
detach his engine from the train; exchange a blast of whistles with the fore-engine crew
and back into the Roanoke Yards to wait until another train needed his help.

I often think of the many “pershers” who have helped me climb mountains in my
life. I find there are, literally, scores of them. I can’t list them here. I’d run ito pages
describing how they have helped me in so many ways.

Think about it. Have you had some “pershers” in your life?

A.L.M. August 17, 2002 [c-546wds]
l

 

STILL HERE!

You may have heard or read about it, too.

You seem to have taken it calmly, but there are people who actually went into a blue tizzie over the approach of a newly discovered asteroid which passed by Earth at some 530,000 kilometers, which is just a bit
more than the Moon.

Most of them had never even heard of the asteroid, called
2002 NY40, until it was mentioned on the Evening News on TV the night before it came closest to Earth and said to be hurtling toward us .

The newscasts always us seemed to point out that it was coming toward us but that it would miss Earth by a comfortable margin, but our of “Nervous Nellies” blithely heard it as “might miss us” rather than “will
miss us.”. “Might” was impetus enough. So armed, they went public!

Can’t you imagine the rapidity with which the rumor machine set out to make it become a fact? The present day fervor was much slower, of course, the Orson Well’s “ The War of the Worlds” scare. I remember that time
vividly. It was October 30, 1938 - the day before
Halloween. I was at People’ Drug Store in downtown Roanoke, Va. seated on a stool at the soda fountain having a chocolate milk shake when I heard parts of the drama coming from the radio. Those were the days when stores kept
radios blaring for their patrons as entertainment. I knew it was a dramatic thing being done in a newsy format on radio by “Mercury Theater” actors. I didn’t think too much about it until a short time later I heard that people
somewhere accepted the radio reports as being news reports of an actual invasion of the country by outer world attackers from Mars! We just had radio, then. There was the telephone, of course. Perhaps some had used telegraph
wires as well - but the word spread rapidly that the enemy had landed as a “huge flaming object” on a New Jersey farm. The Martian invaders were quickly advancing on all parts of the nation.

The next morning the papers were full of stories about what happened. I remember one couple in southwestern Virginia who had cautiously taken an ax to the trees holding their radio antennae aloft, because
it was being said that the invading critters could come into ones home by way of the radio waves! People, it seems, left their homes and went anywhere else they could go, seeking a safer haven and that helped spread word of the
strange attack. Many wore wet towels around their heads and face because they had been told that was a way to stay alive with the enemy doing gas attacks in advance of their invading troops of monsters.

Not everyone went for it, of course. Those of us at the soda fountain were listening to the play, but no on seem excited about it being anything other than a radio adaptation of the H. G. Wells novel from about 1872. The
program had opened with a disclaimer stating that what was about to be heard was a dramatization and not the real thing. Unfortunately, and this stands as a classic boo-boo of early radio, that disclaimer was not repeated until
forty minutes later. No one in my immediate circle of either family or friends panicked, but there were enough gullible individuals “out there in radio and telephone-land” to stir up events and real trouble.

I suppose we could say that ignorance was at the base of such reactions, but that would be unfair in many cases, because many who fell for it were, sensible folks in most things. Radio plays on human emotions as it
as it still does, but then, with far greater power and novelty than many realize. It was the first real demonstration of how radio was going to influence the public seriously. Science Fiction existed in books, of course and pulp magazines
carried shorter material of that type, but the general run of magazines did not. We now find adventure through science-fiction of advanced media including films such as the “Star Wars” series, and others. Our concept of space
then was rather limited and vague. Religious evidence and astrological lore were often a major guide to any studies concerning the outer portions of our Universe. To more people than you might imagine, the Moon was still made of
green cheese.

Even though we have learned a lot about outer space, some of us would rather retain the haunting mystery and fearful potential as we imagine it might be and a cataclysmic collision of heavenly chunks is a fiery
favorite.

It missed us again. That was August 18, 2002. It must have done so. We’re still here. Otherwise, this might have ended....”We’re here. And still...very still.”

A.L.M. August 19, 2002 [c815wds]

 


EVEN KEEL

Our balance depends to a large extent on what kind of “keel” we have.

If I understand my nautical terms, the keel is the bottom, or the “base” of the boat (or
“ship”, I suppose, one might more accurately say] and unless this foundation is properly
designed for the type of seafaring we intend to do, we will find that our vessel has troubles
and will not perform in the ways we expected of it.

Too often we grow up thinking that this is something we can change, or , at least,
modify through formal education and by taking various 101’s to qualify for participation in a
certain subject area. It is, however, not all a physical thing. Much of it has to do with mental
processes rather than physical ones.

The “Old Folks” we are given to quote so often, largely because we don’t know who
ever said what we are quoting, if anyone, used to maximize young people with the words: “
You are what you want to be.”

It’s true, too. I think most of us would find, if we were completely honest with ourselves
that there are certain traits in our basic makeup which determine, to a large extent, what
we try to accomplish. Most have to do with general trends rather than specific acts.

I am quite sure the learned ones in the ever expanding educational area have
developed more elaborate terms for all such actions in our lives. Most of us however,
entangled as we are in the actual living of our lives, it is are somewhat entangled in needs
and desires and we can measure who we are by considering what it is we most often wish
could be ours. That, in time, will be what we become.

We form the keel of our lives in the early years, as we learn ,often through what often
seems to be cruel experiences, that our life has a purpose and that if we intend to sail the
high and stormy seas of glamorous adventure we must give attention of building a deeper,
narrower, more dedicated keel as our base. If we are content to remain in the relatively
shallow, less demanding waters of living except on rare occasions when the immediate
sailing weather is deemed to be perfect for us.

It may be a bit late for most of us to try to rectify any mistakes we made years ago but
we should try to find out what those errors may have been and attempt to guide a course
suitable for the type of keel we have developed. We do, however, owe it to our children and
grandchildren to guide them, as early as possible, in making positive choices. We should try to
instill in them the importance of planning for what they want to be and in working toward
that goal, forming basic structures in their young lives upon which their ship of living may be
constructed for maximum potential.

A.L.M. May 30, 2002 [c506wds]

 

THE WEIGHT OF SILENCE

Suddenly, it’s not there...!

Have you noticed that when your electric power supply goes off
there is a sudden sense of loss and a pressing weight of silence falls upon the immediate world about you.

We, as a people, tend to live much of our lives against a comforting background of noises, an amalgam of many things, muted in most cases, fortunately, There is an element of disbelief, but reality lingers very much
there in the shadows where it is virtually unnoticed. When it all stops suddenly, the silence is oppressive!

There can be no “sound of silence”, I suppose, but the element of heaviness falls upon us in a very real sense.

Sometimes, when the electricity fails, we sit or stand for a few seconds trying to realize what has happened. A change has come about ,and it is not good, but exactly what it was might be comes to us only after
we realize the darkness pressing in around us. Some state the obvious when they say” “The lights are out!” in a tone of dis-belief. The TV screen is a blob starring into blackness, the refrigerator is silent, the air-conditioning is not running,
or, the furnace, if it be during the winter time when the crisis comes to your house.

The first thing to be done is to find your way to as many light switches as possible and snap them on and on and off in random order until you have no idea what positions they will be in when and if, the power
returns. As soon as you are assured of the fact that the loss is general and not solely where you were at the time it happened, you try to remember where it was you put the flashlight so you could find it speedily if such an emergency
arose. Mother goes searching for candle stubs.

These common steps, and others, occur in rapid sequence in most families. Someone will get on the phone and call anyone to ask if their “lights are off”....which they are. One such person called is sure to remind you
that your freezer is no longer holding fast to those low temperatures you need to retain the quality of all the meats and vegetables stored therein. You resist the temptation to take a peek to see if the little light comes on when our lift
the lid. Usually, it works out that someone else in the family has already done that. Several have already tried the refrigerator.

If you are not much at dialing phone numbers in total darkness (and it is amazing how many people can do that!) you ascertain the fate of your neighbors by opening the door - front or back - to see if their lights
are burning. They are not. You feel comforted in the common sharing of disaster which has, it appears, to come to all...not just you alone.

The door opening sequence is a good thing because it allows street or highway noises to burst upon our ears even though they be far away. Sounds have returned! There is hope of survival. There might be the
sound of a plane moving above; a distant siren telling of a rescue vehicle searching out suffering somewhere. When it happened years ago you could even hear a train whistle in the far off hills, and it all became less tedious somehow.

You step back into the darkened rooms and express your
determination of wait it out. New problems face you. What does one do while waiting it out? No stereo, no computer to play with, no fireplace to sit by, and no one has the slightest idea where that old battery operated radio might
be by now. If someone does remember, by chance...the batteries are dead, of course, the terminals quietly turning into a gray-green fuzz therein.

By that time the children are hungry, or they have to go to the bathroom, or both. Then -

Glory be! The power is restored as quickly as it had disappeared. The weight of silence is lifted. Noise, at last! Living is back to normal.

A.L.M. August 1, 2001 [c699wds]

 




LET’S GO TO THE FAIR

Fall is Fair Time throughout the nation.

Fairs are not so numerous as they seem to have been not too long ago. The ones remaining are largely in rural areas or in large cities which are dependent on agricultural income from around the area. The first fair I
ever remember attending was in Norfolk,Virginia, a coastal city, far removed from what we thought of as farm land. I remember seeing chickens, ducks, cattle, hogs and other farm animals, but the main events at the Fair for me,
and I suppose the adults who took me, was racing. In all it’s forms - racing was the main attraction.

I liked horse races but the seemed to be over far too soon. The excitement was so short-lived it was all over before I could identify with a favored horse and rider. I still feel that way. Too fast.

My favorite was harness racing...the sulkies!

A driver was seated on a narrow, rather precarious shelf, perched there on between spinning wheels and immediately behind the rear of the horse. He encouraged his horse to drag the cart around the track with
seeming abandon. The driver seemed ever intent on trying to take advantage of any flaw he could detect in other driver’s movements. Very often the horses seemed to anticipate what they were expected to do. More skill seemed
to be required in harness racing, and not all of it was predictable, either.

There was noise associated with the racing,too. There was the soft whirring of the wire wheels, the sound of hooves beating rapidly the dirt track. Bursts of cheers and jeers from the crowd watching, fears expressed
that a cart would topple were real from time-to-time and with good reason. The light carts would leave the track surface for a second and the driver would lean into the inner rail until he looked like a racing schooner man at sea
leaning far out over the water. The carts weighted well over one hundred and fifty pounds when harness racing came in around 18l0 ors, replacing the popular wagons used up to that time. Over the years to weight has come down
until today, itg is about forty pounds. I have often thought that, if the seat were a solid strip of metal, instead of weight-saving strips, the contraption might become airborne with the seat acting as a wing. Around 1872 a
bow-shaped axle was invented and form it todays bike-cart design came toe to be the prevailing cart type. The design enabled the horse to run even more furiously since they lost their natural fear of clipping their heels on an axle
when they really felt like turning loose.

Sometimes a cloud of dust trailed along after each passing group but most tracks had a sprinkler wagon to wet the place down a bit before the actual running.

My first and only early experience with automobile racing ended in as a tragedy. To this day I have mixed feeling concerning car racing any kind, and I keep living that initial experience. The car was a boxy-looking
“Maxwell” probably a 1921 or 1922 model cut-down and souped-up as a racer. It was painted a violent, fire-engine red color and it came roaring past us in the grandstand. It was leading the pack by several lengths and then, when
it started into the curve it suddenly swerved, did a tumble, end over end, jumped the barrier of hay bales which had been set up between the track and the concessions area of the fair. It landed on a “kewpie” doll concession tent
and burst into flames. The driver was killed and two people it the tent died later as a result of their injuries. I can still see the black smoke rising from the tented area.

To this day I find it all coming back as I try to watch stock car racing or other vehicular competitions on TV.

Another case of . . . too much . . . too soon, I suppose. Kids are not grown-ups. We need to remind ourselves of that from time-to-time.

A.L.M. August 16, 2002 [c

 
ARE THEY REALLY GREEN?

Why is it so many U.F.O. sightseers talk about “little green men” walking about the downed craft?

Green is a perfectly good color and it has the feel of Ole Ireland and Finian lore about that makes it seem natural when you talk of “wee folk” on “little people”, I suppose. A green sprite would be sprightly, too, I
suppose, whereas a brown one or a blue one might not move with such promptness.

From what I hear those UFO riders have to be quick. too. The dish might be gone before they get all the way inside it and I hate to think what a green, blue, yellow breakdown into primary hues, might look like
smeared across the shiny surface of one of those whirling Frisbees from Outer Space.

Green also suggests “ineptness”, too, doesn’t it? We speak with contempt and ridicule concerning someone who doesn’t know how to do a certain thing we can do with ease. He’s a “greenhorn”. He or she is
“green” - not quite ripe - and stands as an example of someone who can not do a certain thing at all, much less well . They can, however, learn if we teach them which we can do if we get the “green light” telling us it’s okay.

Then, “green” means envy in another usage, I think. So-and-so is “green with envy” because you have a new pogo stick you can ride and she has none. Or, a new Audi, or you are because she can wear a bikini well
and you’d rather not think about even trying to do so.

It could be that we seeing little “green” creatures from space may be in the eye of the beholder, too. Maybe they appear to be green because our eyes are inadequate to equate space colors properly which
could be totally different from ours.

Green also means “go ahead”...or “safe”, does it not? We use it generously on our traffic lights. That suggests that the little green men symbolize safety and that we need not be hesitate to meet with them. We
can just sashay right up to them without fear of being turned into spaceburgers as their fast-food snack. The “green-eyed monster” is very real in the lives of many humans.

What else does “green” mean to us? I forget what litmus paper turns to when it is dunked into something strange. We do, or did, care a great deal about chlorophyll in our lives a few years ago but that has now
given way to cholesterol and anti-oxidants to season our daily conversations and to separate program content on TV. To do a line or so about it here would seem old-fashioned and dated, so I won’t mention t at all.

Why can’t we have more variety in our aliens?

Can some of them appear to be red, or - no, not “yellow”, because that suggests cowardice and anyone, alien or not, who would go whizzing around in one of those little Styrofoam sky scooters with all of our
assorted space junk spinning round the planet cannot be sissies, can they? Maybe purple would be proper...as in “purple people eaters”, so essential to our musical achievements some years ago.

One assumes the aliens are “clothed” in green, or whatever. Certainly we can’t have the scurrying around the sky in green buff! Why can’t some Calvin Kline clothing engineer come up with designer garb in
Scottish plaid? A tartan or two would be a real treat now and then.

A.L.M. August 12, 2002 [c598wds]

 

THE GREEDY ONES

We are in the midst of a flood of disclosures of mismanagement at high levels in American business and industry. It could not have hit at a worse time, because the perception of business ethics is at an all-time low.
At the time when we need more public confidence in and loyalty to the CEO echelon of American business firms we are inundated with stories of gross ineptitude in handling the affairs of ranging from sheer incompetence to outright
dishonesty.

That’s putting it all mildly, too. The vast majority of the public mind thinks of these transgressions as plain old lying, cheating and stealing. To call it by any other name is to set aside Truth in favor of momentary
convenience. Indications , are, at the moment, that our elected official will see it as a serious matter to track down and reveal further scandals in business and to bite political bullets a bit and deal with offenders quickly, honestly
and completely. Not to do so is to invite voter distrust in the elected officials as well, and rightly so.

The field of accusations is growing and the latest edition of “Fortune Magazine” pictures several such “greedy” individuals about whom most of us have never heard, and, in so doing, they push the known
offenders ‘way down the list of miscreants. Let’s hope none of them get lost in the flood of followers.

I hear voices saying, not only should the offenders against common decency and honesty, be punished, but that their ill-gotten acquisitions - running into millions and even billions -of dollars, - should, whenever
possible be returned to the pilfered firms, to stockholders therein or individuals - workers, for instance - who suffered severe losses because of company policy. It would appear that we have ahead of us a mountainous array of legal
proceedings which likely continued former years. Some more recently named “greedy ones” may think of this as an advantage which gives them a chance of being either overlooked or snowed under in the avalanche of legal
procedures certain to be set in motion by any attempt to stop such widespread theft.

There is a good chance that this will set the tone of the upcoming Congressional elections and of the next Presidential election as well. This clean-up is going to take a while. It will dwarf the clean up campaigns of
the past and make them seem to be kindergarten “pick up and put away” time by comparison.

The big question right now...for all of us... is: Are we ready to deal with a problem of this magnitude?

The problem is just being “stated” at the moment. Are we ready to face up to the crushing enormity of such crimes against our society?

A.L.M. August 14, 2002 [c468ds]

 

FRIDA KAHLO

I have know girls named Freda, Freddie, Frankie, Franny and I remember meeting a charming little Irish girl named Feona once years ago when she was a foreign student in our area. But - I never recall ever
meeting, or even hearing of, a girl named Frida. I assume it is pronounced Free-da, or it could be Fri-da - as in the day of the week.

The name belonged to a complex , young girl by the name of Frida Kahlo. Her father was a Hungarian Jew and a photographer. Her mother was part Spanish and part native American. Frida was born in Mexico
City in 1910. At age six she was stricken with polio which left her with a permanent limp. Undaunted she went on to become an unabashed tomboy type and a favorite with her father. At age thirteen he enrolled her as one of
thirty-five girls in a student body of two thousand at the prestigious Preparatoria - the national prep school of Mexico and her career and mis-adventures proceeded.

At the school she met a young painter who had just returned to Mexico from France who was commissioned to do some murals in Mexican public buildings. His name was Diego Rivera and teen-ager Frida
found herself attracted to him. Not knowing how to deal with her emotions, the young girl teased him without mercy, played practical jokes on him and discovered numerous ways to make his wife Lupe Marin jealous. In 1925, Frida
was riding in a bus which collided with a streetcar. She was severely hurt and it was said that those injuries would prevent her from ever having children.

Many women might have given up at this point, but not
Frida Kahlo. She was forced to withdraw from school and thus away from Diego and Lupe Rivera. During her convalescence, Frida did something she had never done before. She painted a picture - a self-portrait. This was the
beginning or a new life for her.

She met a young photographer by the name of Tina Modotti and they became communist militants opposed to the “reactionary” rule of the Calles government of Mexico. When the
government withdrew all support from Diego Rivera concerning the murals he was doing , she took it as personal affront. Diego Rivera had been divorced from Lupe Marin by this time, so he and Frida were married and went off to
San Francisco and then to New York. after a quick visit to Mexico convinced them they were no longer welcome there. He accepted work in Detroit where Frida miscarried and-again, in recovery - painted another self-portrait titled
“Miscarriage in Detroit.” The career of Diego Rivera mis-carried shortly afterward. He was commissioned to do large murals at Rockerfeller Center, in New York, but his communists background caught up with him. He was dismissed
and all the work had completed was torn down.

Frida was painting with regularity. She developed, with Rivera’s generous and eager help, a style akin to native tribal art of ancient Mexico. She specialized in small paintings called “retablos” of the type used in so
many Mexico churches. I find it odd to think that her small paintings may, in time, live on-and-on and her reputation as an artist steadily increase, which that of Diego Rivera and his massive murals will fade away and be difficult to
remember.

Frida Rivera is quoted as having said: “Two accidents shaped my life....a tram knocking me down... the other accident was meeting Diego Rivera.”

Consider Frida when you think you have “troubles.” But do not - I repeat - do not - set her up as an example to follow. From this point on Frida Rivera made the worst possible choices in almost everything she did
and her life came tumbling down around her. Her’s is one of the greatest stories of an artist gone wrong.

It is best read, or retold, perhaps, as a “How NOT To...” guide.

A.L.M. April 11, 2002 [c 670wds]

 
A, D, F#, B.

I woke up the other night at 3:33 a. m. tuning a ukulele!

What a thing to dream about! And, I realize, too, I will have to explain to some younger readers, in particular, exactly what a ukulele was and continues to be. It is musical instrument mentioned often in crossword
puzzles as a three-letter word - something akin to a guitar.

That we know, but it was not electrically amplified. It was strictly acoustic, as we now say, and the usual effect was to provide a soft, strumming accompaniment of chords to back up a singing voice. It is most
often associated with music in the Hawaiian tradition and Island groups are about the only places you can see and hear them anymore.

There were two generally accepted ways of tuning up the four-stringed instrument and the one I preferred from about age six or seven was one which was tuned by paraphrasing sing-song words: “My dog has
fleas!” You could start with any note you thought to be approximate as an “A” on the scale and sing: “My(A) /Dog(D)/ Has(F#)/ Fleas(G)!” You twisted the pegs at the top of the neck and did your best to match those heavenly
sounding tones you were uttering so well and to duplicate the sound on the gut strings - top to bottom - and you were prepared to take on all comers. The other method of tuning was “G,C,A,E” and both tunings depended on how
accurately you sounded the first note. If you had a piano to which the first tone could be likened, you were fortunate, indeed, but if you had a good piano available, who would be playing a uke anyway?

Those turnings fit time eras, it appears. The A,D,F#,B version was higher and the other one tuning just one step lower. The change can be seen in the configurations ofchord symbols printed on sheet music. They
seem to equate with our national change to lower register in popular music... from the likes of the Rudy Valee, Ted Lewis tenor types to the Russ Columbo, Bing Crosby baritone bunch.

Time and place were critical to uke playing. It was, and still is, difficult to take a piano along on a hike or camping trip, and here it was that the ukulele helped out great deal. It was compact in size and very easy to play.
Guitars came along later, oddly enough. Somewhat larger Tenor Guitars took over for a time among the pros. “Tenor Guitars” were ukes with thyroid problems. The strumming ukulele could be heard over the waters of the moonlit,
always s placid waters of the lake from some distant canoe, or from the porch of a cabin in the fringe of trees along the shore. It was a very romantic instrument and, with a good singing voice, it was a good means of expressing
romantic emotions. At time, you didn’t realize it was there. Some singers were said to sing “over” the uke - the robust-toned, lusty-lyric ones - while other sang “under” the strumming accompaniment. One might sing ”On the Road
the Mandalay” while the other chose “Pagan Love Song”.

You might find a stray ukulele (also spelled “ukelele”, by the way) in your attic
or the catch-all “Plunder Room” such as my grandmother used to keep upstairs in a back bedroom. Today, now that I think of it, you might try that large room with overhead doors... the big doors leading to the driveway where you
keep your car! It’s
called a “garage.”

Everyone should know how to tune a ukulele. Then, there’s a good chance you would understand what is going through the alleged mind of us oldsters should you overhear us singing out softly in our sleep:
“My...dog...has...fleas!”

A.L.M. August 10, 2002 [c632wds]

 


MAKING SURE

I have, a least, a score of items constantly on my list about which I and not certain.

Some of them are single words about which I am in doubt, and others are expressions I
hear being used and which I sometimes echo without really knowing, for sure and certain,
what they might mean. Try keeping such a list yourself for a while and I’ll bet you find you are
using words and saying things you don’t quite understand. You sense some uneasiness when
you voice them and wander if they mean what you think they do.

For instance, I hear horsy people talking about an animal measuring so many “hands”
high. To me that means sorta like laying your hand against the beast very gently from foot to
topside - head? haunch? ear tips? rump?.. and is your hand horizontal as if you are
compassing out an area or distance on a flat board? Is a “hand” across the palm from edge
to edge or from wrist to the end of your longest fingernail?

One chart I consult tells me “sixty-five inches is equal to 16.2 hands” Now, that’s a real
help isn’t it?` I’ve never had nerve enough nerve to step right up to a pawing steed and
perhaps tickle him a bit as I hand measure his height to see if the formula holds true. The
statement can’t be accurate, I insist even as I perform the daring ceded in a mental preview
au, because my hand is bigger than my wife’s hand and she would probably have courage
enough to give the necessary measurement a try. So, I’m still in doubt about how such hand
measurement a horse works. In conversation I can ask how many hands high a horse might
be, but I can’t say it was so many hands high. And, while we’re here in the stables, I have to
admit that until recently, I thought the term “dressage” meant “grooming.” It does not. It’s
French for “training.”

Seagoing terms give me nervous pings now and then, as well. I
had read that a “fathom” is what? Seven feet? I think so. If the water is
seven feet deep, why not just say “seven feet” instead of a “fathom?”
A “league” bothers me, as well...from the very time I read one of my favorite books as a kid
which had “twenty-thousand “of them. It’s long. That’s about all know about it.

I’m grew up in an era in which the metric system was considered to be the “old” way
of measuring things. We now consider it to be either the ”best” way or the “only” method of
measurement. So, I’ve had to translate my measurements from one “language” to another,
you might say. In doing so, I’m never absolutely sure of how much of anything is what is
intended.

Then, take words like “noisome”. I use it occasionally and I am fully ware that it does not
allude to “noise” but rather to unpleasant odors. It is related to nausea rather than to
rackets of any kind. When I speak of the halls in a tenement house as being “noisome”, I mean
the stink to high heaven and not that they are, necessarily, noisy. I still shy away from using
the word, thinking, perhaps, that the person who hears me say it, or reads it when I have
written it, will think, as I once did, that it means the place is noisy.

Did you ever notice how many people pause reflectively to make sure they say
ant-ARC- tic-a, with the first letter “C” in place?

And, there is a localism in the area in which I live which drops a letter from the
emergency vehicle called an “ambulance.” Here-abouts it is often heard as an
“AN-val-ANCE”. When I hear it, or use the term correctly, I often wonder how many other
words I may be mispronouncing or mis-using out of sheer laziness or sheer ignorance.

A.L.M. August 5, 2002 [c672wds]

 

RE-RE-ENACTMENTS

When word gets around that Wal-Mart is coming to town, something akin to panic
sets in.

Residents are quickly polarized into two groups and for the next six weeks or so they
will attack each other bitterly. It’s happening right now in Waynesboro, Virginia, and it
has taken place in scores of other cities across the nation - wherever the giant retailing
operation has mentioned it would consider opening another store.

Basically it sets downtown and suburban merchants against civic leaders and
others who wish to see the city progress and go forward. Citizens side with whomever they
are related to, either by family ties or by economic circumstances. Those who fight
Wal-Mart predict sudden death for local business. They gather their troops about them
and face up to civic leaders who view the coming of Wal-Mart as tax-paying member of
the community and with a with a sigh of relief. They attract followers who can’t believe it
can be as bad as the other side predicts it is almost certain to be.

There is nothing new about this whole business.

It is easy to see it all as a re-enactment of events of the late 1920 and the early
“30’s when the “Chain Stores”, as multiple outlet stores where then called, were coming
into our communities. Today’s demonstrations are tame by comparison, too.

I can remember when the chain stores first came to our little city. It was made to
seem something related very closely to the end of the world. The very same arguments
were used then, by both sides, which are being paraphrased today. As I recall, we were
concerned with just two such multiple outlet stores coming to “trash” our local economy...
one was “Piggley Wiggley” the other was “Kroger’s”. Other firms were in different areas,
“A&P”, “D. P. Penders”, in the food line and then there were drug stores, furniture stores,
clothing stores, lumber and hardware firms a wide variety of businesses expanding and
looking for new markets. Oddly, I never remember anyone objected to the presence of
“Woolsworth’s Five-and-Ten” which we already had and had accepted as being “local”.

The main difference between the conflict then and now was that the campaign
urging people to “hate the chain stores” spilled over local bounds then and went
nationwide. Radio was rather new in those days and suddenly we found we were listening
to a clear channel, fifty-thousand watt station - the largest permitted - out of the
mid-west beaming a message of hatred against all chain stores to most of the nation.

The ultimate result of it was that the chain stores came in and disaster was averted
by the simple fact that many of the people who objected to their coming were soon
steady customers.

True some local firms did fade away. Other, seeing how the new winds were
blowing made changes and improvements which they should have made years before,
and actually prepared when they faced up to the newcomers offering better, more
personal service, better parking facilities, less tiresome walking, great shopping ease and
enjoyment.
Other merchants quickly rearranged their thinking and either started or jointed newly
formed associations which enabled them to buy their stocks co-operatively and at bulk
quantity prices not unlike those the chain stores could demand of manufacturers and
processors.
Before too long some of the “local” merchants actually opened other stores, often in
nearby cities, cites and became “chains” themselves.

Perhaps you have noticed that in Civil War battle re-enactments, the same side
wins in the re-telling that won the victory long ago. They are for show. Re-enactments are
not widely known for having changed anything.

A.L.M. August 8, 2002 [c618wds]

 
I-81 PROBLEM

It’s time we learned to share our troubles with others.

It is obvious that Interstate 81 has become hazardous due to increased traffic and
substantial overloads at times. Something must be done to solve the problem, and up to this moment, we have been discussing expensive “make do”, “Band-Aid” changes which
will be obsolete before they are completed.

It is time to look at the entire situation in a broader view.

For some years I have been thinking of a plan which would take much of the heavy
truck traffic from I-81, just a s I-81 removed some north-south traffic from I-95 years ago. It
is a plan which would be far less costly than the proposed widening and adding
additional lanes to the existing I-81. It would also bring many new advantages to the
state in general.

Basically the plan calls for a totally new north-south interstate highway from the
general area of The Raleigh-Durham area in North Carolina to the Danville area in
Virginia; then to Lynchburg, Charlottesville, avoiding the congested greater DC-Northern
Virginia area, and on to Frostburg, Maryland or some such location. Not only would such a
route attract north-south traffic but it would be a tremendous boost to the domestic
economy of the Danville, Lynchburg and Charlottesville areas.

Legislators from the districts involved should be beating the drums loudly for such a
major Interstate through their areas, and the sooner they start the better.

All the proposed “fixes” for I-81 are meeting with opposition and understandably so,
especially the obvious plight of the trucking firms being asked to pay tolls if they used the
“new” or “modified” highway. It is time to check into the comparative costs,
disadvantages and advantages of such a plan now while I-81 proposals are “on the
shelf”... there largely because of public outcry against the apparent foolishness of many of
the costly proposals for temporary modifications.

Yes, it is true, I will agree, that an Interstate east of the Blue Ridge will also become
overly traveled and congested, probably much sooner than we think. At that point we
all share our troubles anew with the residents and legislators of the Greenbriar Valley area
in West Virginia, who should also be thinking about a possible north-south artery from
Bristol to Bluefield, through the Valley itself, perhaps Harper’s Ferry or into Pennsylvania.

This not a problem which is simply going to fade away. It will grow worse. We must
act promptly to deal with it.

What do you think about a new Piedmont Interstate east of the Blue Ridge? Does
such a plan “makes sense” to you?

A.L.M. August 9, 2002 [c444wds]

 
THE MIGHTY SAXON

In the years following World War I, an uncle of mine bought a new “Saxon” automobile.

I don’t know what year the car was made, nor where, for sure. We were always allowed
to believe it was a German made car. I don’t know when post-war imports of the German
car were first renewed, but I do know that a Saxon Motor Company was formed in Detroit,
MI. in 1914 and lasted until 1922. “Unk”, as we called him, bought it “new”, I have been told,
and he paid a price which in those days was considered to be rather steep: price for it either
$2400 or $2600. It varied with different accounts. That was considerably more than other cars
cost during the early 1920’s. It was, I suppose, a “luxury” car for those days. The rest of the
family tended to looked at it as a bit of spendthrift foolishness for many years, as I recall.

We two boys came to love that car! We didn’t care where it came from. It was big,
fast and available.

“Unk” was not the easiest man in the world to get along with. He was my mother’s
younger brother. They grew up in Aspenwall , Pa. along the northern edge of the city of
Pittsburgh and moved to South Norfolk, Virginia around 1911. The “Saxon” Touring Car must
have been bought in the Norfolk area when Unk was , perhaps, in his early twenties. I would
1915 judging by a Saxon advertisement I have seen from an old copy of “The Literary Digest”
which Unk used to read. My Granddaddy footed the bill for the car wherever it was
purchased, I’m sure. My uncle was never one for working very much and, being a rather
spoiled Mama’s boy all his life, he didn’t have to. He usually got what he wanted even
thought it took a bit of time and careful parental manipulations to do so.

He was proud of that “Saxon”. too. He kept it clean, met its needs precisely and saw to
it, as far as I know, that it never spent the night outside of a protective garage except,
perhaps, on trips he’d take now and then.

We boys learned early that the way to get Unk in a good mood was to admire and
praise his fine car. And it was a long, high-slung beauty worth admiration ,too. It was black. It
had large wooden-spoked, cream colored wheels, it had a powerful horn quite unlike the
“ah-ooo-gah!” types we were used to hearing on older cars. Best of all, it had a high, unusually
wide back seat which extended well beyond the narrow, protective, two-sectioned, upright
windshield in front of the driver. We boys made those high perches our seats. There was
nothing like the thrill of scudding along a dusty road and feeling the wind in full force against
us. Ink must have bent a good many speeding laws in his time, especially when he “took the
boys for a ride.” He’d whiz down the dirt road, his eyes on the instrument panel and call the
speed back to us. Thirty miles per hour was “fast” in those days and he did sixty at times. Wow!

Years later Unk and his Mama moved away and the Saxon went with them.
I think it had six-cylinders and when it left our area it looked as new as ever. It was a pretty
car, very long and not overly brassed as so many early cars seem to have been in those early
days. It was with genuine heartbreak some years later when we heard the sad news that Unk
had traded the “Saxon” for new car. I won’t mention the name of the car he bought. It was
on the market for just a year or two and his version of it held together for a bit longer than
that, but not very much.

The harsh irony of it all is that is that the old “Saxon” Touring car is, probably, still being
driven at some antique car show this very day...high back seats and all...shined up...and
moving around as sassy as ever!

A.L.M. August 7, 2002 [c705wds]

 

SEEDS

Take and generous handful of seeds of almost any variety of apples you prefer; plant
them in neat, well-spaced rows sufficiently separated and then go back years later and you
will find a plentiful orchard of trees.

Can’t you imagine the pleasure old Johnny Appleseed must have experienced again
and again?

He had proper name, too -John Chapman which is seldom used today. He is best
known for the thousands of apple trees he planted in the wilderness edges of our nation as it
moved westward. His fame has spread afar as the years have gone by. There are, no doubt,
some apple trees which have come down into present times from trees planted long ago by
his hand, but some areas claim that he visited them in his travels. John was not much of a
record keeper except in remembering the locations where he had planted seeds, so some
area which claim Johnny planted in their area are barking up a wrong tree.

John’s life was unusual in many ways. He visited the nearest cider mills to where he
happened to be come Fall and Winter and acquired sufficient amounts of mash to meet his
needs. He washed the seeds form the used mash, dried them, selected the best quality seed
from the lot and placed them in small bags which he took with him on his travels.

When a break in the weather permitted, Johnny would load up a make shift raft and
go down river to a spot which pleased him. There he would put ashore and set up temporary
base from which he could make apple seed plantings in the area. He did so to cut down on
the size of the load he would bear on his back into the wilderness ahead. He tried to work just
ahead of the westwardly expanding settlements. He chose tract of land which seemed to
suit his needs. He did some clearing and built a “fence” or natural barrier around the area
with brush and the limbs of downed trees to prevent wildlife from entering. Therein he
planted his seeds. He knew he would be going further into the wilderness long before the
seeds sprouted and became small trees. He followed that pattern for years and returned to
sites he had previously planted to reap his rewards.

He made a “living”, of sorts, selling both seeds and small trees to people who had
moved into not new settlements in the area. He sold them quite often for pennies because
the new setrlers had little money. He also accepted food items and used clothing as
payment. His wearing of such poorly fitted garments probably made Johnny Appleseed
appear to be more of a “character” than he was. Wherever he sold trees, he knew he had
sufficient stocks miles ahead to meet his need when his market moved westward toward his
stocked areas.

We often overlook another reason John Chapman did all of this. The apple seed
income provided an income for his meager needs. He never married. He traveled alone and
usually on foot. He carried no weapons of any kind, only tools he needed. As John Chapman
he was driven by another force. He was a deeply religious person and a devoted disciple of
an Old Order Amish faction. He was driven take The Word to the new settlers many of whom
professed no church affiliation whatsoever.

So often it is at this point that readers discover his name was John Chapman, and
another name comes to the forefront which sends most of us off to visit our local dictionary.

John was a “Swartzengrubian”. He planted apple seeds as well as religious ideals.

A.L.M. Aug 5, 2002 [c623wds]

 

NATION OF DREAMERS?

Are we a nation of dreamers?

That may be, and is it bad or good that we are so?

It could be considered to be a harmful stance if it means that we tend to plan
things and then let them ride; never do anything practical about them.

If you are given to dreaming at night when you seem troubled in your sleep, you
know that dreams come in many styles, intensities, and that they can be both pleasant
and otherwise. With many of us, they can become so real as to be genuinely tiring and
one has to get up and rest a while before going back to sleep.

That’s the kind of dreaming we must do as a nation. Our dreams should urge
action.

Sigmund Freud in his “Dream Work” developed the concept that “all dreams are
wish fulfillment’s” so, when we dream up some unusual thing we should do as a nation ,
we also tend to work to make them become realities.

A key to our national growth from the earliest days was the idea of migrating
westward into vast, unknown regions. That was something of an extension of the urge
which brought our forefathers here from Europe.

For a time it extended to the Pacific rim, but we ran out of geographically bound
“west”, lest we infringe on the dreams of others, we turned our attention outward to the
far reaches of space.

The results of that venture are just beginning to be seen and the whole idea was a
subject of dreams in my youth.

So much of what we do today; the things which form the essential part of our daily
experiences; relationships with other people and nations were, not too long ago, just
dreams. Look about you at the gadgetry which is so commonplace. If you are as old as I,
you can remember a time when we did not have radio, much less TV and computers;
when movies were silent, flickering images; fresh foods we enjoy so much we seasonal
treats rather than regulars on our dinner tables. All of these, and many others have come
about from dreams of ways in which something might be created or improved and made
more useful to us.

Individuals have dreams and become more worthy because of such spurs to
ambition...Thomas Edison had his dream, Martin Luther King had his “dream” of what
might be, Burbank, Carver, Orville and Wilbur Wright, Buckminster Fuller, Henry Ford. The
list is endless. All had dreams and did something about them.

Our nation should do so, as well.

A.L.M. May 26, 2002 [c440wd]

 

AS A MATTER OF FACT

The moon above the Earth is, I understand, not made of green cheese although an
official announcement attesting as to the truth of that claim, now established as fact by
reason of personal visitation, has not yet been propounded and published by authorities
who speak to such matters.

Such a statement may well be needed because we still have thousands of people
on this Earth who insist that the Earth is the center of the universe and that everything
else rotates around it. There is a society which was formed to promulgate such views and
they have their own far-out page on the world-wide Internet web to lure converts to
accepting their beliefs.

We still have flat-earth believers as well. They still ask why, if we are on a ball as
others like to claim we are, “how come we don’t fall off?” They ,too, can be found in
abundance on their Web pages and I wonder, if, perhaps, those who are writing them do
so “with tongue in cheek” because it seems unlikely for able-minded individuals to
continue to believe in something which is so drastically confounded by critics.

Both have close ties to astrology and related areas of mis- information and the flat
earth believers hold that when the Bible speaks of “the four corners of the Earth” it means
just that...the four corners of a flat, geographic expanse of firmament interspersed with
the oft-times turbulant waters of the seas which, however, do not flow over the edge for
some unspecified reason. This, too, although it flies in the face of the demands which are
required of the believer in the flat earth theory itself, would serve to make one doubt the
authenticity of the entire plan. In seems converts are expected to believe only in that
which they can see except when it proves worthwhile to believe in the exact opposite
and to believe statements for which attesting visual evidence cannot be viewed when
one is to accept that segment of the concept on faith alone.

I often wonder that, if we have gone for centuries upon centuries without being
able to iron out all the wrinkles from the fabric of our religious sensibilities and of the nature
of our residential area Earth, which we call home. What about the possibility of we have
what we might call “less than perfect” areas in other aspects of our living ...our social whirl,
our esthetic aspirations, our expressions as to the various qualities of our nature?

How far have we come along the road to such developments? Are there still
pockets of disbelief therein? Are the Cave Man qualities which are deemed acceptable
as normal social relationships? Are there people who deny the math concepts of our
culture?

There are, certainly many who insist the medical knowledge we profess is
inadequate in many ways, and it seems to be quite apparent in our political life where
stem cell impulses still seem to guide many individuals.

Facts are often fictional. Much depends on who is bending the mirrors.

a.l.m. June 3, 2002 [c521wds]

 



BRING IT BACK

I find it especially interesting that the three colleges in my area - two universities and one college, to be exact, have not had, but are now adding a regular course in “Political Ethics.”

As we used to say in the hill county where I grew up” “’S’bout time!”

They insist them have mentioned the subject or “touched upon” the subject in many of their political oriented courses and this is no doubt quite accurate, but we have evidence a-plenty in our recent history
which shows our future political leaders might be better acquainted with the simple rules of ethics of all types... business, social, economic and moral - whenever they apply to the art of political mechanizations in which they are being
schooled.

I would hope that a word might be returned to more common usage at the same time. The word is “mendacity”. It’s a term which is not used very much these days and yet so many of our chosen leaders have, I
regret to say, proved themselves to be Masters of Mendacity.

If you need to go to your dictionary to find out what mendacity means, you would will find that, among other things it means the practice of lying, knowingly telling falsehoods, lacking in qualities of veracity in
things you do, or promise to do, plus other shades and shadows of meanings concerning basic untruthfulness or truthlessness.

There can be little doubt but that such conditions exist in our political system. They have, probably, existed for a long time - even for all time - and efforts are now being made to try to eliminate the more flagrant
violations after a lapse of a decade or so in which regulatory authorities looked to other way as much as possible. As with so many qualifications the condition seems to be attached to a pendulum of a sort which, when deftly
“gunned” or “braked” by individuals or groups, can swing from one extreme to the other.

Dan Quayle may have been laughed right out of the White House job years ago when he centered on morality as being a key to our future. Today a great many people who ridiculed his views are saying the very
things he did.
Regardless of your political affiliations, it seems wise for all of us to consider this an especially good time as an opportunity to “get our act together” and earnestly attempt to clean out some of the dead wood
which clutters the floor of our political forests. The accumulations of rotting leaves in the form of lies and deceitful practices, false accounting and sham corporations, must be cleared if we are to have any assurance of preventing
more highly destructive and costly wildfires in the future.

I would hope the colleges and universities are adding courses in ethics for Banking and Business School studies as well. Politics is not the only area where reform is needed.

A.L.M. Aug. 3, 2002 [c498wds]

 
TO BE FREE

Most of us rarely think of the special freedoms we enjoy in these United States of
America.

We become aware of them from time to time when we are forced to do so by world
events. The news tells us that other people do not enjoy freedoms we take for granted
and, at such moments, we begin to think about the security of our own beliefs. There are
always some individuals who doubt the continued existence of our valued freedoms, too.
So often, they are loud, insistent voices which come to us in the slyest guises through one
or more of the many flexible facets of a vibrant media surrounding us on all side.

In Revolutionary times the scattered locations of the citizenry and the polyglot
nature of their folkloric backgrounds caused many to respond to the idea of
independence in varied ways, not always in the agreement with separatists.

Many did not wish to leave what, to them, seemed the great security of belonging
to the British Empire. Many must have though seriously of the impending conflict with the
Indian tribes which occupied the lands toward the west into which they were to expand.
They worried, too, I would imagine, about the French in Canada, the Mississippi and New
Orleans and Spanish influences in Florida, the Caribbean Islands and the rim thereof
around that Sea and the Gulf of Mexico. Who could best protect their possessions if war
should come with any of those factions? Certainly not a ragtag militia from the colony
with which they happened to be associated.

Later when the rebels became more active, many of king-minded settlers either
returned to England, moved the Scottish Nova Scotia settlements or to other parts of
Eastern Canada. Other chose to exist in Tory enclaves in rebel areas. And, there also was
a large group of people who did not care which way it all went, as well as those who
looked for ways to profit from whichever way it might seem to be going. Not all were what
we like to think of as “patriots.”

Our freedoms have been bought, not only by the blood of thousands those who
have died in the various wars we have met with, but also those individuals and groups
who, between such moments of obvious crisis, maintained firm moral standards against
great obstacles of a rough, frontier lifestyle and tried to live in keeping within the best of
the religious concepts of the time.

Lest we come to think that all honor for having won and held our freedom belongs
to militant individuals, we might all profit from looking at the average person of Colonial
and Revolutionary times. Our freedoms were won by those who entered the fray in a
physical sense, of course, but we must not forget they were sustained and their victories
made possible by the sacrificial support of, for example, farmers - men, women and
children; by the formative industrial workers of that day,- men, women and children
giving their every awakened hour to provide critical support for the military - all working
together to forward the causes they and their leaders believed in so strongly at that time.
We might realize, too - the children, in particular, might have worked without knowing the
real value of what they were doing. Much of it might have been a way of assuring
themselves that their father, husband, son, brother or relative in the armed forces might
have a better chance of returning to them, or simply because they needed a means of
staying alive themselves in trying times.

We need to be reminded that our freedoms today were each and items purchased
by someone who did without them for a time..of a long time ... so that we might enjoy
living security, independence and also be so wondrously blessed in so many ways.

A.L.M. June 23, 2002 [c655wds]

 
DON’T MESS AROUND WITH JAGUARS

The ancient Mayan word for Jaguar was spelled and pronounced “eesh”.

That, of course, is an assumption because it has been a while since we heard any ancient Mayans say anything, much less to talk about one of their favorite beasts.

The eesh was quite important to them in many ways, and a few of them still roam throughout the southwestern United States, and more plentifully in Central America and parts of South America, as well. It is on
not, by any means “extinct”, or about to become so.

The shamanistic lore of the Mayan people thought of the eesh as “the earth father” and the spots on his dark hide are said to be symbolic of the stars in the heavens above.

The Jaguar, as seen by Shaman practitioners today is viewed as that one who presides over the various powers of the Earth planet. This spotted panther is regarded and revered as the Totem Spirit of the Sky
God.

Our literature has, perhaps, been unfair by emphasizing gruesome human sacrifices and that sort of graphic thing when we speak of Maya Jaguar Priests, known as “Shamans”. Theirs was a rather complex and
intricate set of beliefs It is true, of course, that the ancient teachings of the Sky God were perverted and abused by subsequent generations but to see the a civilization as nothing more than a savage barbarism, at best, is a improper
and unfair view.

It is said that the Great Being came down from the stars and taught the Mayan people that the greatest of all virtues was integrity. He instructed them in unconditional love and forgiveness, peace and how to
be honorable and trustworthy. His teaching of a person having a sacrificial heart, a willingness to give freely of one’s self and to share one’s physical holdings to the benefit of the individual and of the community. Those basic
teachings were perverted in the generations which follow as the Mayan nation declined and as Europeans first witnessed it. It is thought that the concept of a “sacrificial heart”, for instance, was taken literally by renegade teachers,
and by a strange twist, turned into a bloody sacrifice in which the heart of a victim was extracted from the body and presented to the Jaguar spirit with hope of appeasing the Sky God. Instead of being pleased with such actions,
the Sky God was angry. To let people know such ways were not a part of his teachings the Sky God sent the Jaguar spirit to prowl the dreams of the “two-legged”. Where ever the Jaguar Spirit found hearts which had been
blackened by hatred, dishonesty or greed he would haunt them, relentlessly, unmercifully until they repented and with ceasing until the repented and reinstated integrity in their transformed lives.

If you meet with a Jaguar let it pass by. Make sure he is merely fishing in a mountain stream, which, I am told, they like to do, and not stalking you for some mis-deed you’d rather not talk about.

Don’t mess around with the “eesh”. Instead, rethink your own ideas of integrity, love and peace.

A.L.M. July 29, 2002 [c534 wds]

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04/24/2005 - 05/01/2005
05/01/2005 - 05/08/2005
05/08/2005 - 05/15/2005
05/15/2005 - 05/22/2005
05/22/2005 - 05/29/2005
05/29/2005 - 06/05/2005
06/05/2005 - 06/12/2005
06/12/2005 - 06/19/2005
06/19/2005 - 06/26/2005
06/26/2005 - 07/03/2005
07/03/2005 - 07/10/2005
07/10/2005 - 07/17/2005
07/17/2005 - 07/24/2005
07/24/2005 - 07/31/2005
07/31/2005 - 08/07/2005
08/07/2005 - 08/14/2005
08/14/2005 - 08/21/2005
08/21/2005 - 08/28/2005
08/28/2005 - 09/04/2005
09/04/2005 - 09/11/2005
09/11/2005 - 09/18/2005
09/18/2005 - 09/25/2005
09/25/2005 - 10/02/2005
10/02/2005 - 10/09/2005
10/09/2005 - 10/16/2005
10/16/2005 - 10/23/2005
10/23/2005 - 10/30/2005
10/30/2005 - 11/06/2005
11/06/2005 - 11/13/2005
11/13/2005 - 11/20/2005
11/20/2005 - 11/27/2005
11/27/2005 - 12/04/2005
12/04/2005 - 12/11/2005
12/11/2005 - 12/18/2005
12/18/2005 - 12/25/2005
12/25/2005 - 01/01/2006
01/01/2006 - 01/08/2006
01/08/2006 - 01/15/2006
01/15/2006 - 01/22/2006
01/22/2006 - 01/29/2006
01/29/2006 - 02/05/2006
02/05/2006 - 02/12/2006
02/12/2006 - 02/19/2006
02/19/2006 - 02/26/2006
02/26/2006 - 03/05/2006
03/05/2006 - 03/12/2006
03/12/2006 - 03/19/2006
03/19/2006 - 03/26/2006
03/26/2006 - 04/02/2006
04/02/2006 - 04/09/2006
04/09/2006 - 04/16/2006
04/16/2006 - 04/23/2006
04/23/2006 - 04/30/2006
04/30/2006 - 05/07/2006
05/07/2006 - 05/14/2006
05/14/2006 - 05/21/2006
05/21/2006 - 05/28/2006
05/28/2006 - 06/04/2006
06/04/2006 - 06/11/2006
06/11/2006 - 06/18/2006
06/18/2006 - 06/25/2006
06/25/2006 - 07/02/2006
07/02/2006 - 07/09/2006
07/09/2006 - 07/16/2006
07/16/2006 - 07/23/2006
07/23/2006 - 07/30/2006
07/30/2006 - 08/06/2006
08/06/2006 - 08/13/2006
08/13/2006 - 08/20/2006
08/20/2006 - 08/27/2006
08/27/2006 - 09/03/2006
09/03/2006 - 09/10/2006
09/10/2006 - 09/17/2006
09/17/2006 - 09/24/2006
09/24/2006 - 10/01/2006
10/01/2006 - 10/08/2006
10/08/2006 - 10/15/2006
10/15/2006 - 10/22/2006
10/22/2006 - 10/29/2006
10/29/2006 - 11/05/2006
11/05/2006 - 11/12/2006
11/12/2006 - 11/19/2006
11/19/2006 - 11/26/2006
11/26/2006 - 12/03/2006
12/03/2006 - 12/10/2006
12/10/2006 - 12/17/2006
12/17/2006 - 12/24/2006
12/24/2006 - 12/31/2006
12/31/2006 - 01/07/2007
01/07/2007 - 01/14/2007
01/14/2007 - 01/21/2007
01/21/2007 - 01/28/2007
01/28/2007 - 02/04/2007
02/04/2007 - 02/11/2007
02/11/2007 - 02/18/2007
02/18/2007 - 02/25/2007
03/25/2007 - 04/01/2007
04/01/2007 - 04/08/2007
08/05/2007 - 08/12/2007
08/26/2007 - 09/02/2007
11/18/2007 - 11/25/2007
12/09/2007 - 12/16/2007
12/21/2008 - 12/28/2008
01/04/2009 - 01/11/2009
07/26/2009 - 08/02/2009