Fifty seven years ago, I made a promise to my child-bride. “I will not sit idly by and watch you perform all the chores commensurate with maintaining a comfortable household.”
We both realized that certain jobs around our home were necessary for our well-being as well as providing a safe haven for our children.
You know; things like mowing the lawn, cutting and splitting fire wood, repairing the roof, creating and gathering the fruits from our garden, milking, cleaning the livestock stalls and slopping the hogs.
For all these years, I have kept my promise to her. Believe me, it has not been easy; but I have made every effort to lighten her burdens, although doing so has resulted in a drain on our fragile budget.
For instance: To ease the chore of mowing, I purchased a reel-type push mower for $19.95. She adapted to this quite well after only two weeks of rigid instructions that I willingly gave her.
Our ladder was not long enough for her to reach the roof, therefore, I was required to spend $21.00 on one that would allow her to carry a couple of bundles of shingles to the rooftop at the same time.
Knowing that her strength was not adequate to handle the Axe and Maul while cutting wood, I traded a fishing lure and a case of beer for a lighter Axe. As a gesture of gratitude, she offered to raise the umbrella over my lounge chair and replenish my beer each time she carried an armful of wood into the house.
Milking was not too strenuous for her, although she complained about finding the time to milk after dark each evening. To remedy this, I bought her a lantern for $ 9.95.
To help with the gathering of the yield from the garden, I ordered her a wheel barrow for $26.45, when she said that carrying all the produce in her apron was hurting her back.
I was sympathetic when she whined that there was no time to clean the livestock stalls along with the other chores; so I agreed that this task could be reserved for rainy days. Of course, this would have to be in conjunction with the sharpening of the hoes, mower blades, tools, etc.
I try to be as lenient as possible with her and as much as I hated to do so, I felt required to chastise her because of her failure to cook enough to generate slops for the hogs. She was somewhat despondent and agreed to do better. It is really heartening when she realizes the error of her ways.
The purpose of this post is to prove to others that I meant what I said when I made the promise. When, at any time, my bride of fifty seven years is engrossed in the small chores required of a wife; “I will not sit idly by and watch her.”
“I will turn my head, every time.”
Demijon
Alas: There are so few of us “Good Ones” left! Dj.
September 6th, 2010
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Good – $12.45. Better – $19.95. Best – $24.68.
One of America’s largest retail catalog stores has used this method of upgrading for years. How many of us would settle for the least expensive item when, for only a few dollars more, we can have the best? It allows a tremendous boost to our ego when we are able to say that the one we selected is top of the line.
However, in many cases there is very little difference. More chrome on the Better” and the words ELITE on the Best, but the inner workings are identical. Performance from any of the three is essentially the same, so why are we obsessed with the idea that only the Best will serve our purpose? One theory is that if it is priced higher, it must be of better quality.
This is exactly what the manufacturing plant had in mind when they diverted some items from the assembly line in order to place a sticker reading ELITE in an obvious location. This is done primarily to appeal to those of us who scoff at ownership of second best.
Since manufacturing costs are basically the same with the exception of the small amount of chrome and a three cent sticker, the profits are much greater. Dependency on our fetish for ownership of the top of the line has caused sales to skyrocket for the Better and the Best.
Recently another method of advertising has surfaced. That is the listing of certain items with the added words, “Choice of Professionals.” If the repairman sports these tools or equipment; the die is cast.
His hammer must be better than the one which we own that is only rated as Good. After all, he depends on it for his livelihood. Perhaps the ownership of this higher-quality hammer is responsible for his professional status.
With this in mind, we rush to the store and make our purchase. Retiring the Good hammer to the depths of the unused, rusting, tools underneath our workbench, we proudly display our latest acquisition.
At last we will be able to; “run with the big dogs.”
Although little thought is given to the fact that we hardly know which end of the hammer is the business end, we nevertheless can now inspire awe and admiration from our peers.
We now own THE CHOICE OF PROFESSIONALS.
Demijon
Good judgment comes from experience. Experience comes from bad judgment. Dj.
September 6th, 2010
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Important issues concern me, perhaps more than the average person. Things like what are we to do with all of the old stuff when a product is “New And Improved?” Is it safe to continue using until our supply is depleted, or should we discard our hoard and rush to purchase the improved variety?
I suffer needlessly when a doctor prescribes a pain medication which his colleagues have not preferred “two to one.” Does my doctor not watch television? If he does, he surely is aware that he prescribed the wrong medication for me.
“It takes five bottles of the ‘bargain brand’ to equal one bottle of ‘Pine-Stink’.” Law enforcement officials should converge on the “bargain brand” laboratories and force them to cease production of a product that will jeopardize the health and safety of us unsuspecting citizens who try to save a few cents.
Our home has been treated for termites and other pests by the firm of “Brand X.” Since they do not employ the services of ROBO-MAN from the Twenty-fourth century with all of his hi-tech weapons, will our house eventually succumb to the infestation of pests and fall down around our ears?
My needs are fairly simple. My 1970 Pinto does not have a 4.2 liter engine, a computer generated ride, electrically controlled mud flaps, remote door locks or CD-ROM sound system. It does, however, respond when I turn the key and it has so far managed to satisfy my whims to go and come as I please. Anxiety wells within me because it lacks these latest innovations. So, what am I to do? To dispose of it would be like losing a dear friend.
Since “Corn-Fed Chicken, Inc.” has beat “Pullets & Co.” in a taste test by a margin of 21 to 6; am I at risk simply because I have been eating Pullets & Co. product for years? Perhaps Brittle-Mayers will formulate an antidote for those of us who unwittingly consumed the inferior product.
Exactly how much is “A Unit of Coverage?” I am aware that it only costs $6.00 but if and when it becomes necessary for me to avail myself of it, will the funeral director inform my heirs that the cost will be three and one half units?
The other day I discovered that the bank is owned by a used automobile dealer. “One Hundred and Ninety Five Dollars and ride today!” “We own the bank!” After all these years of depositing my tiny paycheck in their establishment, shouldn’t I at least qualify for a 1949 Nash Rambler?
Lawmakers are desperately trying to put an end to welfare. Are they concerned in the least about “New World Carpet?” Apparently they are on the brink of entry onto the welfare rolls due to the fact that they have continuously sold their product for under cost, and then offer free installation with all the trimmings. They can’t last much longer.
“If you bought from anyone else, YOU PAID TOO MUCH!” This bothers me most of all. I unknowingly have bought from someone else for years. Is it possible that if I had changed my pattern of purchasing, I would be a rich man today?
One day soon I will attempt to count the 8,968 items which are priced below the competitors. This has caused me many sleepless nights. Suppose that immediately after the ad is placed in the newspaper, the competitor lowers the price on 1,500 items. Would the ad then be considered false advertising?
In my waning years, I should not be subject to such stress. I should be allowed to enjoy my “golden years” free from the pressures of being required to worry about things such as:
Do “scrubbing bubbles” really scrub?
Does the hair coloring only take five minutes?
Can I really lose 50 pounds by gliding on a machine?
Do the Psychic Friends know so much about me?
Is the Hair Club president indeed a client?
What about the lawyers who lose. Do they get any pay at all for their efforts in your behalf?
There are many other distressing things that disturb me. I hope that I am not the only one who suffers from this affliction. If there are more of you out there, perhaps we could arrange a convention for worriers. You know, get together and compare notes and who knows? Maybe we could form a support group.
In the meantime, I will continue with my downtrodden approach to life in general, and I will worry; A LOT!
Woe is me.
Demijon
Getting old doesn’t necessarily mean getting SMART. Dj.
September 5th, 2010
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Webster’s dictionary contains thousands of words which old Noah himself was not completely sure of the correct definition. This article is intended to dispel any inaccuracy, therefore, preventing your skinning your ignorance when the occasion arises where you have a need to impress someone.
Append: Webster defines this word as, to attach or affix. Now, everybody knows that this is totally incorrect. It is the rear-most part of the body of a large gorilla. You know; The part that he sits on.
Broad Axe: A weapon or a tool to hew timber? Wrong again. This is a question, covering a wide variety of subjects and is usually axed by a “good ole boy.”
Calcium: Silver-white chemical, found in limestone, right? No. ‘Cal’ is the fellow who observed Corry Mae Poovey and Wadlow Jarvis making love on the fodder.
Defeat: Certainly not, to win victory over; or overcome. Simply put, dis is the part of the body dat de shoes go on.
Ether: Commonly designated as a sleep producing agent but those of us with superior intelligence are aware that; “‘Ether’ you pay me that dollar or I’ll whup you.”
Futile: Useless, vain, hopeless. Ugh-ugh. Correct usage; ‘Futile’ your kitchen and not the hall, you’ll have a mess in wet weather.
Gentile: Mr. Webster says; any person, not a Jew. Right interpretation; Flooring removed from the cotton gin and used in the kitchen or hall.
Handbill: In the book, it states; small printed notice or advertisment. Precisely put; “‘Hand-Bill’ that hammer so he can nail them shingles down.”
Indicate: to direct attention to; The right definition; “Billy Joe broke his hand when he got it caught ‘in-de-cate’.”
Juncture: a point or line of joining; Another Boo-Boo. “Bobby Frank tol me that you ‘juncture’ car atter you wrecked hit.”
Kickapoo: Noah says, a tribe of Indians; I say, “If you sass me jus’ one more time, I’ll haul off an’ kick a poo’ outten you.”
Locale: Incorrect definition, a place of locality; Proper usage; a fitting greeting for former race car driver, Yarborough, you know, “Lo Cale.”
Mater: Definitely not, the mother, as depicted in the dictionary. It is a red fruit produced by ‘mater vines.
Nairn: I will not doubt that this was a county in Scotland, however the correct definition is; “How come you got two co-colers an’ I ain’t got ‘nairn’.”
Outwit: to overcome by cunning; Totally wrong; exact pronunciation; “Joe Lee went inta’ that poker game wiff two dollars an’ come outwit ‘seben’.”
Petty Cash: money for incidental expenses; No, No; It is simply the amount of winnings derived from the NASCAR circuit by former driver & Team Owner, Richard.
Quotient: Certainly not, the result obtained when a number is divided by another. Literal usage refers to, “I run that ‘quotient’ light an’ got me a ticket.”
Reply: Here is another of old Noah’s mistakes. He indicates that this means to answer or respond. Everybody knows that this is what you do when your plywood rots.
Screen Test: testing suitability as a movie star? Hail no! It’s simply determining if a fly can get through the mesh covering your window.
Teleplay: Not a written account of a television play; This word is used mostly by coaches in the game of football, i.e. “‘Teleplay’ to that dumb-ass quarterback an’ he forgets it.”
Underrate: You would think that Webster would know that this does not mean, ‘Rated below a certain amount.’ It simply means that admission to the theater is a quarter if you’re ‘Underrate’.
Vaccine: The stuff in a shot? Definitely not; It means what Bubba calls the waitress at the diner because he pronounces an M like a V.
Wet Bar: Once again, incorrect; Not a serving counter for drinks. “They ain’t nothin’ slicker’n a ‘wet bar’ of soap.”
X Ray: Not a photograph of the bones in one’s body; “Stella is like a different person since she divorced her ‘X Ray’.”
Yam: Surely everyone knows that this is not a ‘tater. It is dialogue used by cartoon character “Popeye”, i.e. “I ‘yam’ what I ‘yam’.”
Zeal: Noah’s book says intense enthusiasm; Not so: This is one of them animals that live in the cold waters near the north pole.
I sincerely hope that you have learned something.
Demijon
I’m not smart enough to be a Smart-Aleck. Dj.
September 4th, 2010
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How well I remember the Model “A” Ford. The first automobile that I can recall my family owning. A black, box-like, two-door sedan, powered by a four cylinder engine which provided our transportation for many years.
It sat regally, on 19 inch wire wheels with a spare attached to a horn-like mount at the rear of the body. In a day when power was not as important as efficiency, the fuel tank located in front of the windshield, gravity fed the up-draft carburetor. This eliminated the need for a fuel pump.
These innovations, combined with the four cylinders and a manual three in the floor transmission was adequate to propel the vehicle at an accepted speed of around 35 /40 miles per hour.
Starting the car was more complicated than merely turning a key. Mounted on each side of the steering column were two levers. The left lever was the spark and the right was a manual accelerator. These levers must be operated in sequence.
If the battery was charged, the first order of business was to turn the key to the on position. The spark lever was then raised to reduce the compression of the engine. Then the accelerator lever was lowered and with the right foot depressing the starter button, located at the junction of the floorboard and the fire wall. The right hand must then reach for and pull the choke rod, located in front of the passenger seat. After the engine fired, the spark lever was lowered to smooth the idle of the engine.
If the battery was dead, starting the car required two persons. While one manipulated the controls, the other inserted a manual crank through a hole just under the radiator and turned the crankshaft. If, by chance, the car was parked on a hill, manual starting could be accomplished by allowing the car to roll, placing the shift in second gear and popping the clutch.
Access to the rear seat was easily accomplished since the original bucket seats in front could be folded twice to allow for unencumbered entry. Many a young person learned to drive at an age when it was necessary to fold the back rest of the drivers seat down in order to see through the windshield.
Although not provided as standard equipment, an accessory was available in the form of a manifold heater. This was simply a metal hood which could be attached to the manifold of the engine. The end nearest the Radiator Fan was bell-shaped and allowed air to be forced over the manifold, to be warmed and directed through a hole in the fire wall on the passenger side and into the car. However, this was much less efficient than the rest of the vehicle; therefore, winter travel required the use of comforters or warm clothing.
Maintenance usually was provided by the owner and was simplicity itself. It has been said that the Model A could be kept in tip-top condition for years with only a pair of vise-grip pliers and a coil of hay-bale wire.
Unlike today’s jammed engine compartments, every part of the engine could be easily accessed. An occasional grease job, a few oil changes and sporadic spark plug changes were pretty much the extent of required maintenance.
Although not as comfortable as our modern vehicles, the Model A served its owners well. Comparatively speaking, this vehicle was much more of a value at a cost of around six to eight hundred dollars than today’s everything automatic, computerized, automobiles.
I would gladly purchase a new Model “A” today and spend the rest of the 20,000 dollars plus, that is the price charged for today’s automobiles, and proudly go chug-a-lugging along the nation’s highways. I am not in that big of a hurry anyway.
Of course, I would expect the price to be in the $600.00 – $800.00 range.
Demijon
If Pigs could vote; the man with the Slop Bucket would be elected President. Dj.
September 3rd, 2010
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Want to drive someone crazy? Just mention to them that regardless of what other people say about them, you like them.
If the person possesses a sense of humor, the reply could be a mere “thank you;” however, in many cases the suspense will be too great and they will ask, “What DO other people say?”
I have used phrases like this for years when conversing with friends and sometimes with strangers. Reactions have differed, but no one has been seriously offended by the remarks.
I enjoy watching expressions change when one is caught off guard. For instance, as a window clerk with the United States Postal Service, it was my job to serve patrons with their postal business. One thing that I frequently resorted to was when a customer asked, “May I please have a book of stamps?” I would stand, stoned faced, arms folded, and reply, “NO.”
The expression on their faces would immediately change. Some would show anger, some would smile, but all would react. Only when I assured them that the remark was made in jest did they take it in stride. There were very few times when the situations became a serious nature. On those occasions, I was called on the carpet and slapped on the wrist for my infraction of the rules.
For the most part, I thoroughly enjoyed my contact with people through this profession. There were instances which I had just as soon forget, but most were pleasant. I even acquired some lasting friendships from these contacts.
Retired now for many years, I still enjoy the needling of acquaintances with these half-truths. Most friends realize what it is that I am seeking and refuse to show the reaction for which I hoped. They’ll show me. They all know that my bark is worse than my bite.
My thinking is that it would be a pitiful world indeed if there was no mirth shown by anyone. We have only one short trip through this life and the enjoyment of it should be a must” for all of us.
Try it. I’m sure that you will like it. If you cannot bring yourself to do so, remember: “Little things like this is precisely why folks don’t like you!”
Demijon
Some 60 years ago; I married Miss Right. I didn’t realize then that her first name was ALWAYS. Dj.
September 3rd, 2010
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Deputy Sheriff Jess Baxter walked into his boss, Fred Meacham’s office to make his report on the day’s patrol from which he had just returned.
Settling into an easy chair opposite the enormous desk occupied by the High Sheriff, he waited until he was asked, “Well, what happened during your tour of duty?”
Stretching his 6 foot 2 inch frame until he was almost lying in the chair, Jess began with, “I was cruising out on highway number 57; out near Long Pine, when I noticed fresh car tracks turning into the woods.
This appeared to be something that would bear investigating so I followed the tracks and about 200 yards into the woods; I came upon a red Mustang with California license plates. The trunk lid was open and the trunk was about half full of what we call green vegetable matter when we have to testify in court at a drug trial.”
“This looked suspicious so I decided to wait awhile and see what was going on. I had only waited for around five minutes when a young man came thrashing through the undergrowth. His shirt was off and he was sweating profusely. He had his arms full of freshly cut green vegetable matter.”
“When he spotted me, he stopped in his tracks and started mumbling,”
“Oh my Gawd:” “Oh my Gawd.”
I said to him, “Boy, just what in the tarnation are you doing on private property? He quickly answered…”
“Jeeze, Officer, please, I ain’t never done nothing like this before, but I’ve heard that North Carolina has good weed just growing wild and I thought I’d check it out. Please, Officer, I didn’t mean to do it.”
After sizing him up real good, I said to him, “Son, I’ll tell you what, if you’ll get in that car and head back to California and don’t never show your face in North Carolina again; I’ll let you go.”
Hearing that, the sheriff almost swallowed the cigar that he had been puffing on and shouted, “Why th’ hell didn’t you arrest him, bring him in and book him?”
Jess grinned and said, “Well, sheriff, to my knowledge there is no law in this state against a fellow filling the trunk of his car full of POISON OAK.”
ENJOY
Demijon
Make anything idiot-proof and someone will make a better idiot. Dj.
September 2nd, 2010
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When we hear the word ethnic, we all tend to think of a grouping of people from another background or culture. There is, however, another ethnic group that is sometimes mistakenly included in today’s society. This group proudly lays claim to the fact that they are different. They are fishermen.
This unique group, while usually honest to a fault, does not hesitate to lie when it comes to the fish that they were unable to land. It does not matter to them that the strongest line that they own is 15 lb. test; the fish that they fought for two hours finally broke that line. They contend that it was at least 45 lbs. and would measure more than 32 inches. It is also not uncommon that this same fish increases in size and weight with each description.
Fishing is a passion of orgiastic proportions with most of this group. They live and breathe the fine art of casting, trolling, spinning, boats and motors, rods and reels and of course baits & lures. Anyone changing a subject while conversing with them is next to impossible. Their vocabulary consists almost entirely of trout, bass, crappie,catfish, night-crawlers, blood-worms, flies and the like.
Some of my best friends are died-in-the-wool fishermen and they, like all the rest of this brotherhood, will not admit that they have ever added an inch or an ounce to the size of a fish. Their word is considered gospel within this closely knit group.
Spending an entire day in a boat, repeatedly baiting hooks, casting and returning to shore with nothing to show for their efforts but a bad case of sunburn is, in their opinion, a day well spent. The ones that got away were worth all the energy that they expended. I don’t think that I’ve ever heard one fisherman relate with pride about the one fish that he caught that measured 3 inches and would weigh 4 ounces.
Fishing is a practiced art with this group and most of them have become experts and seldom return from an excursion empty-handed. They know their business and will even defend to the death, their right to lie now and again. Most of them are true sportsmen, refusing to utilize the latest of high-tech equipment in favor of their own ability to out-think the fish.
One of the most guarded secrets among this group is their favorite fishing spot. Not one of them will reveal to even a member of their brotherhood their own special place where they caught the big ones.
Another belief that is practiced by many in this group is that they fancy themselves gourmet cooks. They believe that the only way to prepare a fish for human consumption is to clean it, build a small fire on a deserted island near their favorite fishing spot and roast their catch. Perhaps a cold, long-neck Miller-Hi-Life to wash it down would complete their meal.
Many things change throughout the years, but the dedicated fisherman refuses to bend to these changes. His Jon-boat, his casting rods, his lures and his obsession for fishing will always be a part of his make-up.
Although small in number, this ethnic group is composed of some of America’s finest. They are fishermen.
They are a different breed!
Demijon
When approaching a school of fish, they insist on debate. Dj.
September 2nd, 2010
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I am reasonably sure that I am not alone when it comes to locating an item that I have “put right here so I can remember where it is.” Lately this has become a tremendous problem with me, and it has nothing to do with age. The more appropriate explanation of this dilemma would be that; “somebody moved it!”
My stuff is organized. I have never been one to lay aside something that I feel is important, but here of late I am finding that this precise organization is a thorn in someone’s side. This somebody has resorted to the movement, nay, the hiding of said “stuff” even to the point of invading my workshop and the placing of my tools in a location that is not readily accessible.
For instance: once when I needed a particular drill bit, I went to the rack where I had placed it when I last used it. Lo and behold, it was not there. Enraged, I began to look throughout the shop for this bit but to no avail. Moving paint cans, scraps of lumber, various wrenches and screwdrivers, and even as a last resort sweeping the floor did not produce the item. The stuff gremlins had been at it again.
Several days later while searching for another tool, I came across the drill bit where the somebody had been returned it to my workbench, and placed it in front of where I had been sitting while conducting my thorough search a few days prior. Concern over my depressed state when I could not locate the bit had caused them to relent and return it.
I am aware that my roommate will move, or otherwise dispose of my “stuff” at anytime opportunity presents itself. This knowledge has been the cause of my habit to always place everything in its proper location to insure that my stuff will not be scattered to the four winds. If only she would take heed to my adeptness at organization and treat her junk accordingly, it certainly would make for a neater abode.
Copies of THE NATIONAL INQUIRER dating back to 1956 are left in disarray on the coffee table, along with several empty lipstick tubes, a box of crackerjacks, three half-empty jars of Milady’s Face Cream and at least, four catalogs from Big Woman mail-order house, are all prime examples of her lack of organizational skills.
I have decided that the only way to prevent the misplacement and probable loss of anything of mine will be to adopt an attitude of; “you touch-a my stuff and I’ll bust-a yo face!”
This will assure me of finding everything that I put right here so I can remember where it is.
The execution of my signature will serve to prove that I mean what I say.
SIGNATURE X .
Now, where did that pencil go? It was here a minute ago. SEE! They did it again.
Demijon
Osteoporosis: - A degenerate’s disease. Dj.
September 1st, 2010
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IS IT COTTAGE CHEESE, CURDS & WHEY, OR CLABBER?
The stone churn sat on the hearth, just to the right of the open fireplace. The purpose was to slowly sour the whole milk that would later be agitated by the up and down motion of the dasher. The dasher was nothing more than an X of wood mounted on the end of a dowel rod that extended through a hole in the removable top of the churn.
When the milk had soured, it thickened and formed a substance that was commonly called clabber. Around this substance was a thin liquid which was referred to as whey. If the clabber was removed from the whey and broken up, it resembled present-day cottage cheese and the taste was much the same. Many people enjoyed eating clabber and it contained almost as much nourishment as the whole milk.
A famous nursery rhyme makes reference to clabber. You remember ‘Little Miss Muffett’, don’t you? She sat on her tuffet and ate her curds and whey or clabber.
If the clabber was left intact, the churning process began by working the dowel rod up and down and continually stirring the curds and whey until lumps of yellow substance floated to the surface. These lumps were removed when the churning was complete by means of a wooden paddle, salted and packed into a mold and left to harden. This delicacy is butter, calories and all.
The by-product from the churning process was by no means the least of the treats that resulted from this rather unique operation. Another was prized as a companion to a snack, or even a meal of cornbread. This was none other than buttermilk. Chilled and served at tables in the finest homes, buttermilk was considered a staple for many homes in an earlier era.
From start to finish, nothing was wasted in the making of butter or churning. It was an operation which required little enough energy in order to produce so much in the way of subsistence for the average family.
Churning usually was done when the other more important tasks were completed. Sitting by the fire and listening to the radio or reading with the only sounds being the crackling of the fire and the thump-thump of the dasher as an all important procedure was initiated.
The conversion of whole milk into first, clabber, then butter, and finally into the mouth watering taste of a product synonymous with a hunk of cornbread.
In addition to being a refreshing drink, BUTTERMILK was prized as a necessary component in the making of Buttermilk Biscuits!
Demijon
If you have never tried it; don’t knock it! Buttermilk & Cornbread has been the mainstay for many meals over the years. Dj.
September 1st, 2010
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Fifty seven years ago, I made a promise to my child-bride. “I will not sit idly by and watch you perform all the chores commensurate with maintaining a comfortable household.” 
