Saturday, November 09, 2002
Yo Yo
I don't know what year it might have been – possibly in the early 1930's if I had to guess. But, I do recall that our Granddaddy Loeffert, then living in South Norfolk, Virginia, sent us gifts he found of interest from time-to-time. That one year he sent us two growing boys a toy which - about one year later- suddenly became the nation's number one toy. It was a “Depression Time” play thing ...a strange, wooden spool with a string attached - called a Yo Yo top.
One of them was a bright blue; the other fire-engine red. The red one was mine. In those days new toys did no arrive in colored boxes with detailed instructions therein explaining how the toy was to be used to best advantage. I suppose,Grandpa assumed that any grandsons of his would be smart enough to figure out how the things worked.
We didn't. Not really, that is. Oh, we learned to spin right wooden wheel up and down the string, of course, but the other kids on the block thought it was baby stuff. Not much interest; not even a tinge of jealousy or envy. Before too long the poorly made tops came apart; the paint faded and they were more,or less discarded. One year later, when the Yo Yo craze hit and every kid had at least one Yo Yo. We had to dig ours out, repaint and glue them to join the crowd. Granddaddy John Loeffert was one year ahead of the tide as he seems, now, to have been in much of living. From that point on Yo Yo spinning moderated and was taken over by older folks - or young people who had grown old using them.
Just as suddenly as it came upon us, the Yo Yo fever faded slowly away. And the return of prosperity brought with it brighter, noisier, and battery operated toys instead. Yo Yo's continued to be sold but in moderation... some with batteries which caused them to light up colorfully when twirled. I never really learned to do all the tricks and showy stunts the Yo Yo artist can now do now, but we did enjoy ours as long as the fad lasted.
Years later - much later – I learned that the Yo Yo, originally weapon, came from the Phillipines. In the years after the Spanish-American War there was a large migration of Phillipinos to the United States and one of the things those immigrants brought with them as a sort of Good Luck charm to protect them on their long journey and into their new life. In the Depression Years, about thirty years later, a young American man saw Phillipinos in this “toy”, so we have Donald F. Duncan to either praise or blame for bringing the Yo Yo into the place it assumed . Among young people and, then adult performers, many came to use the tiny spool with amazing skill. Duncan controlled the Yo Yo market until his string snarled and he went bankrupt before his death in 1971. From time-to-time we have had attempts to revive the Yo Yo as a “skill toy”, so it returns often. The very name “Yo Yo” means “come back”.
Or course,, it was not inability or sheer laziness which prevented me from become adept at Yo Yo spinning. I just recently learned that there were two types of knots which could be used in tying the string to the dowel between the halves of the top. Beginners were to use one loop and those who advanced in the skill were to use a double looped knot. That important detail may well have been what prevented me from being a yo yo spinner of note.
A.L.M. November 8, 2002 [c633wds]
Friday, November 08, 2002
WEST COAST TRY
I was rather surprised to find that “Measure No. 23” which appeared on ballots in the State of Oregon attracted so little attention in the rest of the nation. The title for No. 23 was “Comprehensive Health Plan” and it is all that proponents of socialized medicine could have hoped for in the United States.
It failed to pass at the polls, but I have strong feeling it will be used as a handy, ballot-tested model for future health plan suggestions in other states from time-to-time. Much concern was expressed during the early days of the Clinton administration about what seemed to be a headlong rush into such a nationwide health care system. You certainly recall the intensity of opposition to even proposed items which might be included in such a plan if it ever materialized which it did not do.
Those who prepared the Oregon proposal made it long enough so that few people will read it all, but accept, rather, the judgment of people who have read specific portions of it. I, personally, have not read it all and don't intend to do so. I have read enough of it to be convinced I have seen he raw template for future health plan urging to be put before voters in other states.
I have no intention of going into details of the plan herein. That would be like opening a flood gate or breaking a levee. Think of any and all medical situations you can dream up from the cradle to the grave and rest assured that every penny of whatever they cost will be paid for with you reaching into your pocket. It offers all that's good for anyone who signs a form attesting to the fact that he or she wishes to reside in such-and-such a state. The state was Oregon last week. Who know what state might be so designated in the future?.
When something like this reaches referendum status, even in one state, it is time for the rest of us to start paying attention to what is happening... going on... or coming off.
If you value our future. Read it. “Measure 23” Don't just take anyone's word for it... including mine. Read it for yourself.
A.L.M. November 6. 2002 [c383wds]
Thursday, November 07, 2002
SMALL TOWN
Ours is, by any standards, a small town. We meet the criteria set by lore, learning, literature and living.
I think the most recent census put our total population at 993, plus or minus whatever lag is thought to be techniques census taking. Let's call it a thousand.
In keeping with established low of the land, the citizens of our area paraded to the voting booth - singular because there was just one of them - along with many voters all over the nation on the Tuesday designated.
In the very process of voting we became an integral part of the whole nation and the circumambient blending of small town and big city dwellers of all races, creeds, colors and political affiliations. We were taking part in a process which was being woven into a wholeness from points all over the land which would tell what we thought and felt about our circumstances. There was a massive unity at work even in our small rural gathering.
The mood continued to be folksy and friendly, however. I had neglected to take my identification along with me in the form of a Driver's license. Since I don't drive any more, I don't carry it with me wherever I go.The clerk dutifully asked me for my permit to drive which I hoped was being done elsewhere. The inquiry into my qualification and identifications held up the line of course, as the clerk - whom I have known for fifty years, at least - went to get a printed form done just for trouble-makers such as I . I was asked to write, then print my signature on the two lines at the bottom of the from while the clerk intoned the facts that if I was not who I said I was, I could look forward to a fine of some fantastic dollar amount or ten or more years in jail. “At my age, “I told her, “I think I'll take the ten years or more plan!”I had, of course, by this time forfeited my normal place in like for the voting machine across the hall. The young lady ahead of me motioned for me to join my wife and I thanked her and told her my wife and I liked to vote together because my parents always did so. Every election day one or the other would say: “C' mon, Honey, let's go down and cancels each other's vote!” The girl laughed. “My parents said and did that to! One Democrat and one Republican!” All these years I though that was one of my very own little family stories.
Just one machine at the precinct this time. I imagine it was because this was an off-year election and the turnout was expected to be light. Even with a cold, steady rain all day I was not, however, but higher than expected.
While standing there in line, I had a chance to look at the crowd of local people at the Rec Center to vote and, of the group, I found I knew very few although several other look vaguely familiar. I was reminded of how like Class Reunions Election Days can be. Everyone but us seemed to have grown older and fatter. And you wonder about the people who are not there as they should be. It hits sharply you when you realize they're dead.
At the booth! Swing the curtain shut. Tweak the latches downward, in our case... Zing! Zing! Etc!. That's it! Done! Open the curtain with a mighty sweep of the long handle and stand forth as people watch you receive a red, white and blue sticker attached to your coat: “I voted!”
You feel closer to everybody. It's a strange sensation.
Small town? Small world, too.
A.L.M. November 6, 2002 [c640wds]
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Wednesday, November 06, 2002
'02 THE NO-GREENS YEAR
Years from now this Year of 2202 will be noted as having been, locally, at least here in Virginia, as a time when a marked shortage of summer-time rains resulted in a “greens-less” Fall.
Virginia is far enough south that such a condition can be a tragic thing.
It is tantamount to Vermont running out of maple syrup; Maine or Idaho having a poor potato crop, or the questing watermen finding fewer oysters in the Chesapeake Bay. When “greens” are in short supply, late summer and fall gastronomic treats become limited and longed for by devotees thereof. And, I am one of them.
It has not seemed at all proper this year that we have not have been inundated with more than ample supplies or green vegetables from garden plots around us. Usually, at this time of the year - starting the end of October - it is not uncommon for us to have extra supplies of Fall favorites stacked on the back porch, in the basement or taking any extra space remaining in that oft-times laughable addition to many homes called a “garage”.
The very term “greens” must be clarified or “translated”, it seems. South-born folks take their greens eating much more seriously than do other not born to the subtle touches of both the preparations for, and proper enjoyment thereof. By greens, I mean, the stalwart, fully grown leafy portions of a number of garden plants - most of which have a long and glorious history at home and abroad.
The more prominent ones among them include: collard greens, mustard greens, kale, which comes in several crinkle and non-crinkle types, and turnip greens are also included especially if one grows the type which is all leaf without turnips being appended. There are others, of course, and they need not be green in color - such as beet greens – the leafy portion the Red Beet plant.
The proper prepping of these vegetables for eating starts with neat harvesting, cut rather than torn from their roots. Then, they are all sent through “seven waters” before they are ready to steam or boil . Spinach, among them is know for hanging on to particles of grit as if holding on to the Earth it does not wish to leave, and kale, accordingly ritual preparation calls for: inspection and trimming away any blemishes before washing through seven changes of fresh, cold water. After six such washings you might think you have all possible grit is removed, but do the seventh one one to be certain. Family recipes vary as to additions to be made. Older folks simply dropped in a slab of “fatback” and put “'her on 't bile”. I like the fat back scored almost all the way through in half- inch sections so a small dab of back can be included when greens are served just by chipping section off with a fork, knife or even the ladle because it usually cooks well done. That's especially true with Collards which I have been mentioning first because they are my favorite. The rest of he family prefers Mustard Greens or Kale. Greens are always plural, you can't eat one green.
Add salt to your liking, of course. Pepper, too, if that suits your fancy, or garlic. All Southern cooks, even those who won't admit it, add sugar to just about everything they cook so if sugar turns up in your makings no one will complain.. A ham bone makes a good substitute fatback or side meat, too.
This does not, in any way, disparage such greens as Spinach, especially served raw after passing though seven waters, of course, and lettuce which is also “greens ”. They are more delicate. and suited to sandwich times. But, let's not overlook a generous serving of spinach sprinkled with vinegar and topped with sliced, hard-boiled eggs and a bit of salt. Cabbage, of course, is in a Greens league all by itself.
One word of caution! Make more than you think you'll need.. Greens cook down a lot and they increase the average appetite on sight!
A. L. M. November 5, 2002 [c693wds]
Tuesday, November 05, 2002
WHAT INSPIRES THE DOODLE?
It strikes me as being impressive how many people I know display artistic talent. They exhibit it unintentionally when they “doodle” with pen or pencil.
Maybe you doodle as I do when you are on the phone in a not too demanding situation, or waiting for someone or even looking-at rather than really watching TV. Often you simple make little squiggles, checks, x's, ovals or “push-pulls”- as they were called if you are old enough to have had “Locker System” handwriting exercises in your early school days. Up-and-down, up-and-down - endlessly across the page until, it was full, but neat as could be, mind you. Neat and orderly. They were doodles, of a sort, marching under your control in disciplined rows.
Just this morning my wife did a fine doodle drawing on the small clipboard pad we keep next to the phone. It was a five-inch flower sketched down one side of the pad, and if I had available some means of copying it I would have done so. A fine bloom of some complex type, with leaves coming from the stem complete with convoluted shades and shadows marking every subtle second of growth. I don't know the nature of the phone call in which she was engaged at the time, but the flower was well done. Had I asked her to draw such a flower for me, I doubt that it would have been so satisfying.
All of which has, this day, caused me to wonder how often other facets of change and discovery have first been thought of in the doodle mode.
There is a certain freedom and spontinaity when we do things which have not been pre-cut, patterned, templated or in any way set. Working too hard at something can cool creativeness, at times, and it is possible that some great inventions have been sketched out as “might be” things. Only then, do they become real when one, erases the “ifs” one by one to make them realities, you might say.
Notice too, in so much of the literature you get suggesting contributions to charitable causes, how important – really essential – the seemingly casual photograph of a needy child is considered to be. Think of it a “doodle art” and the copy ...the test printed nearby is merely the tool which tells you where to send your contribution. The picture does the selling of the idea of doing so!
There must a school of social doctors who can see personality traits by studying a person's doodle drawings, too, I suppose. Great potential values may be there, as well.
Let's not discount the art of doodling and call it idleness until we have made sure it is not all the things it seems it could be.
A.L.M. November 5, 2002 [c470wds]
Monday, November 04, 2002
CENSORED!
If you merely mention the word “censorship” you can upset a great many people.
We have all been subjected to it in one form or another, too. It is not restricted to foreign shores or wartime only.
What really concerns most people is “official” censorship, by which we mean control of our lives by government. We seldom think of other forms of control over out social lives as being censorship at all, but the elements are there and are abused at times, I'm sure you will agree. At any time you see one man, or a clique of some sort, domineering a group of people in a dictatorial manner, you will find censorship goes right along with it.
Just about anyone who served in the armed forces during World War II, particularly overseas in any theater, will remember that all of our mail was censored. We were aware of that fact; knew about it and saw a good reason for it - to keep the enemy in the dark. In many outfits, once it was discovered who was doing the actual censoring, it tended to loosen up a bit; even falter in its intended purpose. It became a game of a sort between enlisted men and officers. It was difficult at times, to see why and how officers who attended the same schools we did and had the same jobs we had at home, we suddenly designated to read and censor our mail home. I have yet to find an officer who liked doing the job.
I recall how I, unintentionally, let my wife know - within four miles of where I was stationed when shipped to England. I did it by being honest. I told my wife in one of my first letters home that I had been to the grave of Edith Louise Cavell the famed World War I nurse, who was executed by the Germans. I wrote of standing there and wondering what she might be thinking about finding us back again doing he same things Americans had done in l917-18. All my wife had to do was to pickup the nearest encyclopedia., turn to the “C” pages, and read a moment, to discover that I was standing to the rear of the Cathedral in at Norwich, England. She could not have known, of course, however, that I was four miles from my base at Rackheath which, in time, proved to be one of nineteen American air bases in Norfolk County around the city. By and large we respected the need for such a program, but in looking over mail received from us here at home I found to have been a hit-or-miss scheme with, perhaps only one out of twenty or more letters being razored and the rest untouched by censoring hands.
Prior to that, after being rushed to Florida, the small base as a municipal airport was suddenly clamped down tight! No phone calls for any purpose whatever! No letters, post cards! No communication whatsoever, because we were shipping out for a Port of Embarkation.We were not told where that port might be either.
On the train moving north we, in some mysterious way, came to know without being told we were going to Camp Shanks, NY. We arrived at night, I remember, and the next morning after an early breakfast and before too long the telephone calls came flooding from New York City from wives and fathers and mothers, sisters and brothers They had all sent neatly printed post cards informing them that we were leaving Florida on such and date and that we would be a Camp Shanks.
We arrived at night, I recall, and the next morning after an early breakfast, phone calls flooded in from where wives, friends and relatives were waiting to see us. No leaves! No passes! A few days later, when they had all gone home - my wife included – we were given passes “do the town”.
A whole group of censors shot themselves in themselves in their collective feet with that mess, I'd say. Good. Never liked 'em anyway.
A.L.M. November 3, 2002 [c690wds]
Sunday, November 03, 2002
BIG, BIGGER....
When does “big” become “too big?”
We have learned a great deal about that problem in recent years especially as it applies to bay windows, beer bellies and real-life bustles, bosoms, biceps and mouths. Does “big” make any of them better? We have even come to question the art of building bigger and higher buildings.
In view of the fact that the United States, for many years now, been able to qualify about having the tallest building in the world, or the tallest “man-made structure” in the world, a great deal of interest in such records. Malaysia has the tallest but buildings in the world; Canada has the tallest man-made structure on Earth, but only a chronic joy-killer would even brings the subject up for general discussion.
There remains , however, one area in which I think the United State has a strong lead on having the big, bigger or biggest or whatever - and that is in the huge throngs of humanity seen attending sports events. Our spectator sports displays pull fifty thousand people together in on spot for hours and we, thus far, at least, manage to keep most of them alive and reasonably well. Sooner or later – and, I am afraid it will prove to be sooner – we are going to find we have run out of stadium space in which to stuff ever-growing groups of spectators!
What is all that going to do to spectator sports as we know them today?
If we continue present trends, before too long, in order to actually attend a favorite sport event to witness it first-hand will find themselves seated somewhere in the adjoining county. Even now we find people habitually lugging radios, TV sets, hand-held computers and kindred devices, binoculars and cell phones with them. The often find they are so far from the arena, stage, ring, field, court, track or other playing area that they need assistance to keep in touch with what is going on “down” or “over” there at the event they have paid handsomely to see.
Then, as dusk arrives, falls, and the rumor spreads quickly that the game is “over” down or over there; a few bring out electronic directional finding gear for active use. If they are lucky they might get back to where they had to park their car before nightfall sets in solidly with seasonal blasts of cold wind and icy snow.
I would be tempted to vote against anyone who tells me that the steadily increased costs of attending sporting events is going to cut down on the number of those actually attending. It doesn't seem to have worked that way up to this time. Some once held that, first radio; then TV coverage would cut crowds. They didn't. They enhanced them.
We had a “Shaky Side” Series this year so crowds were said to be smaller, but the stands appeared to be full night after night just as were at the ”Subway Series” games in New York. Look at the 49,000 fans in the stands at NASA race and think of them as paying $30.00 per head just to be there. I use that price because I heard it being hawked as a “bargain” price for a particular race. A friend of mine who, occasionally, likes to go a big league game a hundred and fifty miles away from our home, told me that me that a man, his wife and two kids better have at least two hundred loose dollars handy.
Can organized sports outgrow the space we have for it?
I once heard a member of the Congress of the United States say which I consider to be one of the brightest quotes I have heard from august body: “America,” he said “ has an almost criminal devotion to bigness!”
A.L.M. November 2, 2002 [c645wd]
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