Heresy

America's favorite cookie was produced in lower Manhattan.  It was introduced on March 6, 1912.  Over a century later, the Oreo is America's best-selling cookie..  It is not my favorite cookie. There.  I said it.  If you offer me an Oreo, I will eat it with thanks and gratitude, but if I am buying cookies for myself, they will not be Oreos.  Better yet, I may buy a jar of peanut butter and make my own cookies!

Possibly a little known fact is that Oreo was introduced to compete with Sunshine Bakery's Hydrox cookies which had been on the market for a few years.  The popularity of the Hydrox doubtless impelled the people at the National Biscuit Company, later Nabisco, to horn in on the market.  Perhaps this demonstrates two truths.  One, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery; and two, an imitation good enough and backed by deep enough pockets can drive the original from the market.

In keeping with the fanaticism of the health nuts, Oreo recently changed their recipe to eliminate trans fats.  I mean, there is nothing America needs more than a "healthful" cookie.  Of course, any benefit could be offset by the introduction of Oreo Double Stuf.  But I don't know that for sure.

The original Oreo Biscuit, as it was called at the time, sold for twenty-five cents a pound and came in a decorative tin.  The company has expanded the product line greatly, offering numerous variations on the original.

Statistical data from Wikipedia.

I'm Tired; Good Day!

 Just in case you had forgotten this.

Then we went to the  wildlife sanctuary and watched the birdies.

Little Family in a Little Town

Reminiscing and scrolling through some old pictures, this one brought back a flood of really ancient memories.

The picture was taken in the front yard of the parsonage in which we lived in Bladen, Nebraska.  I am guessing it was Spring or Summer of 1938.

We moved to this village of perhaps 500 souls in the Summer of 1935.  Little Sister was born in March 1937.  We moved to Colorado on July 4, 1939.

It was in Bladen that my first memories of life on this Earth are set.  In addition to my awakening awareness of my surroundings, I was exposed over the years to the stories the parents told of the times here.

One of my memories involves a blue drinking glass and a two-inch crescent scar across my right wrist.  Somehow the glass was broken in the kitchen, and Mama's Little Helper was carrying some shards oh, so carefully, in his hands, taking them to the back porch and the trash receptacle.  For no good reason, other than to create a tale and a memory, MLH stumbled on the threshold and fell.  The glass provided a severe cut to the base of the right palm, so Mama said.  It has migrated fully three inches up the inside of my arm in the intervening three-quarters of a century.

I also have a weirdly disfigured left index finger, the nail of which requires a minimum of nine snips for a proper trimming each week.  That's a nine-snip nail.  Three-year old self had climbed onto the deck beneath the windmill.  The child was fascinated by the action of the pump rod and for no other good reason, reached toward it.  Unfortunately, the rod had a bolt protruding which came just to the level of the deck before returning on its upward stroke.  That spot was exactly where the child had his finger when the down-stroke was completed.  Smash!

I have many other memories, both mine and those of my parents, which are set in this village.  Perhaps I shall attempt to mine and refine some of them!

Though I have worn my hair combed straight back pompadour style for decades, left to its own devices, the part still falls on the right.
You might also like this Bladen story posted here.

Rumination

We revisited Charlie’s Pasture. This time we chose to walk some of the trails. One short trail took us to the edge of a pond where nice benches were built on a deck. Very comfortable seating while we rested and watched the waterfowl. 

 Our next choice was a trail over the salt flats. In the interest of full disclosure, I will state now that the trail was much longer than we were up to, and we did not go the entire distance. Nevertheless, it was an interesting walk so far as we went.

As we strolled down the board walk, we saw imprinted into the soil below many footprints of quite a variety of critters. Soon enough we came to a sign board which had been erected to help visitors identify the creatures by their footprints. We found that several of these animals had been using the wash  below us.

And this got me to thinking about the pathway of life, and the footprints we leave behind as we travel along its way. Like the animals, I think that in our absence we can be identified by the footprints we leave on the hearts and minds of those with whom we have had contact.

What sort of creature are you? Will folks look with pleasure and fond memories on your “footprints”?

Let Good Sense Be Your Umbrella

I do so hope this blog doesn't become an imitator of those cable tv networks which major in reruns.  However, encountering some people and some situations recently, I thought, "I have already addressed that."  And so I did, in this manner.

I have been acquainted with any number of people over the years who could well have carried the name of this Al Capp character. Pronounce it, no, probably not, but live up to it, yes, certainly.

Like this lovable little pinned-together character, these folk go around with a rain cloud as a constant companion. An observation that I have made is that in a good many of these "cases" there is no provision made for the impending rain. They carry no umbrella, probably don't own one, and if they did they wouldn't know where they last put it down.

Now, generally speaking, I like people. I feel for the misfortunes that befall even those with whom I'm not acquainted. But while we may not live in a victim-less society, it is certainly the case that there are more instances of self-inflicted misfortune than most people like to own. Many of the people I have observed are near and dear to me, yet their ills are more often than not brought upon themselves by their own choices and behaviors. I could go on and on. Just saying.


He doesn't have sense enough to pound sand in a rat hole  --Dad's second-favorite saying. (The pronoun is interchangeable with "she." And with "they" and "you" combined with "don't" instead of "doesn't.")

Texas

March 1, 1845 President John Tyler signed the bill authorizing the annexation of the Republic of Texas by the United States. Texas became the 28th state on December 29, 1845.

Tomorrow, March 2, is Texas Independence Day.  It commemorates the Texas declaration of independence from Mexico and was promulgated on March 2, 1836.  Texas Independence Day is a legal holiday in Texas.  It is also known as Sam Houston Day and Texas Flag Day.

Official flag of the Lone Star State

In addition to Texas, two other states of the Union were independent republics prior to joining the United States.  Name them.

February

Four weeks to the month, now that’s the ticket

The problem is this sticky wicket.

It applies to February alone

All other months out of the zone

sport too many days to come out right

by three sometimes, or two if light.

Since there seems no rhyme nor reason

and we can’t calculate by season

we have to memorize the days per month

by sheer rote or by jingle

“Thirty days hath September,

April, June and November,

All the rest have 31...”

Well, except that brings us back to one

which has four weeks.

Oh, darn. 

 In years divisible by four...

At any rate, this ends it for this year.
May your March be everything you wish it to be!

Bicycle Ride to

the beach, where I caught the gulls in an early morning nap.