My first encounter with airplanes came about when, as a young soldier, I decided that the uniform of a paratrooper was the sharpest thing going.  Glistening jump boots, tailored shirts and jackets adorned with jump wings, and soft hat with the distinctive hat-patch was “IT.”  The offer of an extra $50.00 per month sealed the deal.

 Little did I realize that along with this dazzling look came weeks of pushups, five-mile runs, hours of hanging in a harness and constantly being told that I did not “have what  it takes..”  In addition, I was actually expected to leap from an aircraft in fright.  After discovering this, there was little to do but to endure this punishment short of “Quitting,” and this was considered a fate worse than death by my fellow would-be “troopers.”

 All of the rigorous training did nothing to squelch my desire to be able to sport this snazzy uniform; and I suffered, along with my peers, the humiliation that was inflicted upon us by the jump school cadre.

 Finally the day came when we were marshaled onto the tarmac beside a waiting C-46 and ordered to strap on “Parachutes.”  When we had succeeded in getting the harness attached to our quaking bodies to their satisfaction, we were told to load up.  Climbing up the steep ladder into the plane was a chore, what with the extra weight of the very uncomfortable parachute along with our nervousness.

 Small canvas seats were installed on each side of the plane, one of which we each were assigned.  We were told that the men on each side of the plane were called a “stick.”  Stick number one would jump first, followed immediately by stick number two.  The jumpmaster then rehearsed the jump commands for us, the pilot started the engines, and we began to roll to the airstrip.

 The plane took off and climbed to an altitude of one thousand feet that was the prescribed height for training jumps, and headed for the drop zone.  The jumpmaster stood with his head out of the door and searched for the panels on the ground that marked the drop zone.

 When he was certain that everything was as it should be, he turned and gave the command to “STAND UP”.  Mixed emotions ran through the minds of all of us upon hearing this command; something between being deeply concerned and terrified. I suppose that the feeling of being “scared sh-t less” was the most likely definition.

 The next commands of HOOK UP, CHECK EQUIPMENT and SOUND-OFF FOR EQUIPMENT CHECK were followed as though we were a bunch of robots.  Then the next command of STAND IN THE DOOR was shouted over the roar of the engines.  As one, the entire stick began a shuffle to the rear of the plane and to the door.  When the first trooper had reached and exercised his pivot into the door, the jumpmaster slapped him on the rump and shouted GO.  Everyone followed this first man into empty space with only the static line as a link to the real world.

 Miraculously the parachute opened and we floated to the ground with a feeling that we had just been spared a terrible death.  After four more jumps we were paraded in front of the big brass, our wings were pinned above the left pocket of our blouse, and to a man, we felt that we had not only conquered, but — WE OWNED THE WORLD!

 Demijon

What happens if you get scared to death, ~~ TWICE?

 

In the days of yore in rural America, hot meals were prepared and served twice each day.  The first, of course, was breakfast.  As a general rule, the father was the first to arise and started a fire in the wood burning cook stove.  When the stove was sufficiently heated, the mother began mixing and kneading the dough for biscuits and put a pot of grits on the stove top to simmer.

Fresh eggs were gathered from the chicken coop and slices of ham or bacon were cut from the salt cured meat in the smoke house.  The mother continued with the preparation of breakfast while the father tended to the livestock.

The children were then awakened, dressed for school and assigned chores such as setting the table, drawing water from the well, bringing in wood for the cook stove as well as the fireplace if needed.

When all the chores are completed, the tantalizing smells permeate the kitchen as the ham / bacon is taken from the fry pan and the biscuits are taken out of the oven. The grits are smothered with red eye gravy and a dozen eggs are sizzling in the grease.

The family sits at the huge table to fortify themselves with the first meal of the day.  As the sun rises, the children leave for school and the father leaves for a day of toil in the fields.  The mother clears the table and cleans the dishes, makes the beds and readies herself for a day of boiling and scrubbing the family’s clothing.  Her labors are interrupted to prepare the noon meal or dinner.
Dinner is much the same with fresh vegetables replacing the morning victuals.  When all is ready, the iron bell is rung calling the father from the far off fields.  After eating and with a snack set aside for the school children, and food left over is placed in the cook stove’s warming closet to be consumed at the evening meal or supper.

The warming closet is nothing more than a couple of metal cabinets built around the pipe from the stove that allows the smoke from the fire to escape into the chimney.  Usually, supper is the leavings from dinner and is kept reasonably warm in the warming closet.

Certainly these folks would scoff if told that one day, food could be put into a small oven, push a couple buttons and a meal could be served piping hot in minutes.  They would swear that something of this nature was only a dream and would never work.

Every time I use the microwave oven atop our range, I am reminded of removing my supper from the warming closet of a wood powered cook stove.

Demijon

There was talk back then of drive-in restaurants; but everyone agreed that they would never catch on.

I have recently discovered something that, if true, disturbs me to no end.

We, the citizens of this country, elect folks to represent us in the great halls of Government for the sole purpose of voting, either pro or con, on any and all bills introduced for consideration of the Congressional members.

My understanding of their obligation is to support the interests of the voters within their districts.  However, according to the report that I read, this in not necessarily the case.  If any member of Congress does not wish to vote, neither pro nor con on any bill presented during a roll call, all they are required to do is answer present.  In fact, they are not even required to attend the session that a particular bill is being considered.  Is this what we chose to send them to this hallowed Governmental body to do?  I think not.

I cannot believe that our constitution allows Congressional members, elected by the people, to simply vote present or to be absent, during the consideration of an important lawmaking process that would benefit or adversely affect the very ones who cast their votes in favor of them.

Another thorn in my flesh is the fact that our lawmakers are only required to serve one time and then be eligible to retire with a pension that is far greater than the average voter who must satisfactorily produce in order to hold on to their jobs and retire with a pittance.
Let us suppose that all voters should be given the option of casting their votes as present if they favor neither of the candidates and withholding all re-election campaign funds for any Congressperson that has not proven that they have done the job they were elected to do.  At any rate; this would narrow the field considerably.

Respectfully,

Demijon

Note to all Congresspeople:  If you want the rainbow; you have to put up with the rain!!!

It takes a while, but eventually things get through to me.  Now, I cannot bring myself to respond as quickly to a request for aid until I erase all doubt of the sincerity of the need AND that I am NOT being taken advantage of.  Call it what you will, but although I am a slow learner, once taught is sufficient to last quite awhile.  In the event that you need my assistance, please help yourself as much as possible, and then, I will be happy to assist you whenever problems arise that do not interfere with my own contented lifestyle.

Demijon

I can even remember when the phrase, “He needed killin” was a valid defense.

After an accident involving an unusually sharp saw blade, I visited my local drug store in search of my favorite brand name band aid.  After searching three isles of “Super-Size” bandages and first-aid products to no avail, I finally located a sales clerk who was engrossed in creating a display for bathing suits on one wall of the gigantic building.

“Pardon me,” I asked, “Can you tell me where I will find the ‘Sticky-Side’ band aids?”   With a look of disgust, she replied, “Oh, we don’t carry them any more.  The ‘Super-Size’ brand is so superior that we are now stocking them exclusively.  You’ll find them on isle 29 right below the microwave ovens.  Have a nice day.”

With the tissue wrapped finger throbbing, I drove to the nearest hardware store and bought a package of “Sticky-Side” band aids and a tube of “True-Value” medicated ointment.

About my original question regarding the potential increase in revenue from merchandise which has nothing to do with health and well being.  Apparently the owners of genuine drug emporiums prefer to remain status quo.

For those of us who remember “The Olden Days”, this is a plus.

Demijon

Something for Senior Citizens to be thankful for:  Isn’t it nice that wrinkles don’t hurt?

I have never been one to gamble on anything except a sure thing.  In the early 1950′s, I was a young soldier earning a total of $135.00 each month, including $50.00 each month as a bonus for jump pay as a Paratrooper.

The first of each month, one by one, we all entered the day room, saluted and reported to the Company Commander to receive this meager pay.  As a general rule, the night following pay day found groups of recruits gathered around several footlockers with a deck of cards; and all of them wishing for a full house, a royal flush, or 4 of a kind. 

These episodes usually ended with one or two recruits winning most of the pots and the rest cursing their bad luck.  There were times when these sessions would last all night and the losers would be faced with no money until the next month when it would start all over again.

I suppose my upbringing instilled a note of frugality within my weak mind, and I was somewhat cautious about entering the games of chance that my peers practiced on more or less a regular basis on the first of each month.

I felt it necessary to hold on to most of my pay each month for essentials, such as toothpaste, boot polish, regular visits to the beer garden at the local P.X. and, of course, cigarettes.

Our final week of training required a week spent in the boondocks housed in Pup-Tents. These were nothing more than two pieces of canvas that could be snapped together to form a cover for two sleeping bags.  My tentmate for this week hailed from the hills of Kentucky.  He was an ardent admirer of the gambling sessions in our barracks.

All of our basic needs for this training such as food and shelter were provided by the U.S. Army; therefore, all of the necessities we yearned for had to be packed in our duffel bags.  I had packed enough cigarettes to last me throughout the rigorous training week, and during our few breaks would light up.  My tentmate would observe me closely and as soon as my cigarette was halfway used, he would say; “Gimmie that duck.”

If I elected to take several draws before relinguishing the last of the cigarette to him, he would loudly respond, “WATCH-OUT YOU DON’T HOT-POT IT!”

That remark was ‘Kentuckian’ for, “Gimmie it NOW!”

Demijon

If you can’t be kind; at least have the decency to be vague.       

The handyman was dispatched to repair the broken lock on the entrance door, without which the house could not be secured.  Important; right? 

On arrival at the cottage he knocked on the door, and announced that he had been sent to ensure that unauthorized entry could not be attained.  A look of despair appeared on the occupants’ faces as they asked in unison, “Are you not here to fix the television?  We reported it last night and we have already missed ‘Good Morning, America’ and ,Regis & Kelly’.”

This particular cottage just happens to be situated on the ocean front in one of America’s favorite vacation spots, the Carolina coastline, with miles of unspoiled beaches, picturesque sand dunes and warm ocean breezes practically at the doorsteps.  In addition, rent for this house will approach the $1500.00 mark for the week and yet, the most desired item of interest for the occupants was the television.

Assuring them that he would take a look at the appliance upon completion of the repairs to the lock, the handyman resumed his work.  With the lock in good working order, he moved to the television.  Inspecting the wires and cables, he found that they were all attached and in the proper sequence.  He then pressed the switch marked ON and the set responded with a colorful likeness of Bugs Bunny and the sound of “What’s up Doc?”

“What did you do,” they then asked.  “We tried everything and it simply would not work.”  Reluctant to tell them that all they had to do was to turn the set on, the handyman replied, “There must have been a loose connection.”

Upon leaving the cottage the handyman conceived the idea of placing a sign on each television set stating, “PLEASE TURN ON BEFORE VIEWING.”  This proposal was immediately rejected by the rental office for fear of offending a few of the vacationers.

This incident serves to prove that the order of priorities differ in importance, dependent upon whether or not rent is being paid.  Some assume the attitude of “Why shouldn’t the television be turned on and tuned to our favorite program when we arrive?  After all, we’re paying big bucks for the privilege of enjoying our vacation.”

Demijon

 Sound advice:  Never, ever, NEVER; Take a sleeping pill and a laxative at the same time!

 

I can remember very well when money was not as important as it is today.  We all seemed to get along as well or perhaps better that we do now.  It was not uncommon for a family of four to get by on what is now minimum wage.  Although wages have escalated over the past decade or so, prices of goods and services have somehow risen to a point that is well above the balancing mark.

I am not complaining and often chide others when they express a desire to return to the good old days, simply because I lived through those so called “good days.”  One could not accomplish much when the weekly take home pay was somewhere in the $30.00 range and rent plus groceries were in excess of $80.00 per month.  This meant that clothing and other staples were severly limited.

In order to have any extras such as transportation or an occasional night at the movies (at a cost of .50 cents per ticket), there would have to be more than one income per family.  With wife and husband both employed, this should have measnt around $100.00 each month as a cushion.  However, forgotten were insurance premimums, payments on furniture, gasoline, utilities, etc.

Also, not figured into the budget were things like breakdowns on the car and if this occurred there would be payments to the repair shop.  This expense would cut deeper into the cushion.  During this period in our young lives, we did, however, prove that humans can survive by eating lots of dry beans and potatoes.

Things did get better for us as our incomes increased substantially; but not to the standpoint of becoming wealthy. We did, however, raise and help educate two sons, bought our home and somehow accumulated a modest savings account; but we have never forgotten those few years when things were the toughest and our financial status was practically nil.

Even now, although retired, we tend to guard our tiny cushion and limit our spending to well within our paltry income.  Our memories of those good old days are so deeply ingrained within our minds that we are grateful that we are still able to sit up and take nourishment.  We are also thankful that “but for the grace of GOD; we could still be poor.”  It really takes so little to make us happy.

Demijon

YESTERYEAR:  “A penny saved is a penny earned.”  TODAY:  A penny saved is a Govenrment oversight.”

DJ

We have all received them.  The telephone call at the precise time we sit down for the evening meal.  A breathless voice saying, “Mr. Sellers, how are you this evening.  This is Sandy with Pot-O-Gold and I am calling to advise you that you could be next in line to win $1,000,000.00.  All you have to do is apply for our Pot-O-Gold charge card and you may become our next millionaire.  The fee is only $39.95 per month with a low interest rate of 37%.  Isn’t that great, Mr. Sellers?”  —  Sound familiar?  It gets worse.

Whenever we purchase a new appliance, there is a registration form enclosed in the package that must be returned to validate our warranty.  These forms seek all kinds of information about us.  Things like how much our income is and what we plan to buy next. This is apparently the source of big revenue.  Even the Department of Motor Vehicles has gotten into the act by selling names and addresses from their lists of automobile registrations.  They have, however, offered a form that when filled out and returned to DMV will remove our names from the list to be sold.

As irritating as telemarketing calls are, there are other unsolicited calls that are nothing more than malicious attempts to separate us from our money.  These calls are made by unscrupulous individuals who prey on our compassion for the sole purpose of lining their own pockets.

Sometime back, my wife answered the telephone (you guessed it, at dinner time).  The speaker identified himself as a member of the North Carolina Highway Patrol.  He inquired as to whether or not she believed in capital punishment and would send literature in return for a donation to a fund established for the families of slain officers.  Fearing the worse, my wife asked the person to send the information and she would then make a decision as to whether, and how much, to donate.  The caller became indignant and hung up.  A later call to the Highway Patrol revealed that they do NOT make telephone solicitations.

Shortly afterward, I received a call from a lady claiming to be a representative of “Make a Wish Foundation.”  She requested that I make a donation of ten dollars or more to fulfill the last wish of a terminally ill child.  Her tearful request fell on deaf ears since I had recently read that the legitimate “Make a Wish Foundation” (again) does NOT solicit funds via the telephone.

While I am in favor of helping veritable charities, it disturbs me that there are people who make a career of targeting those of us who, on a regular basis, experience “too much month left over at the end of the money.” If you receive any of these calls, ask for sufficient identification and tell them you will return their call after verifying.  If they refuse, simply hang up.  Please don’t become a victim.

Demijon

Profound statement:  ~~  If you think there is good in everyone;  You haven’t met everyone.

Have you ever wondered what the world did before the invention of Plastic, Duct Tape, and WD-40?

Many of us senior citizens can recall when almost everything was made of either wood or metal.  These two materials were used wherever possible in the earliest automobiles, (horseless carriages). They continued to be necessary components until designers began to streamline the vehicles.  Since It was not feasible to bend wood into the desired shapes, the manufacturing process relied heavily on thin metal that was lighter and stronger.  Still, a combination of metal and wood were incorporated into the bodies of most primitive automobiles.

An example could be found in many of the 1920′s -1931′s Model vehicles.  Generally, these had a wooden post wrapped in an upholstery material located between the front and rear windows.  I can remember seeing a neighbor’s Model “A” Ford whose hinged doors had failed to latch.  To remedy this, He had driven a nail into the wooden post and wrapped a chain around both window frames. To enter, he merely unhooked the chain, opened the door, and then closed it by re-attaching the chain on the nail.  A simple, but workable solution.  This was known as “making do.”
In later years, some enterprising Chemists invented a substance that they called Plastic.  This was a combination of chemical elements blended into lightweight sheets that could be molded into any shape. This more or less revolutionized the automobile industry.  Even today, Plastics make up major portions of our cars and even many of our kitchen appliances.

It did not stop there.  Plastic evolved into a substance called Fiberglass that today is used extensively in the manufacture of our modern day vehicles.  There are even some sports cars whose body (outer shell) is constructed entirely of this Fiberglass.

Another couple of innovations are the invention of a strong, sticky tape and a spray that displaces water.  These two objects became known as Duct Tape and WD-40.  Over the years they have become essential products in every household.  In addition, they have just about replaced many expensive items in a homeowners toolbox and have triggered the following slogans;~~~

“If it moves, and shouldn’t; – Use Duct Tape.”

“If it doesn’t move, but should; – Use WD-40.”

AND:  If you experience a crack or breakage in Plastic or Fiberglass,  a simple cleaning with WD-40 and taping it with Duct Tape will solve the problem.

We’ve come a long-long way, baby.

Demijon   
Quote from the past:  “Have you seen the new cars coming out next year?  It won’t be long before $2,000.00 will only buy a used one.”

DJ