Saturday, July 31, 2010
Sticky Sticky Stombo Noso Rombo Hoidy Boidy Bosco Nicky Non Newel Non Nokoma Roma Tombo.
(Pip is my brother. )
My wife has known the story since she was a child sixty years ago, and she says this is the correct name.
Friday, July 30, 2010
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
I told him I was a teacher and was employed by the neighboring community. He picked up the stogie, took a long draw, then laid it back down. "Waaal," he drawled, "I can't say that being a teacher is a helluva recommendation." He then related to me about four stories illustrating his thesis that teachers weren't necessarily reliable. Then he picked up his pen, scrawled a note on a yellow pad, ripped it off and handed it to me. "Give this to the girl. She'll fill in when you're going to repay this and you can sign it." I walked out with $150.00, American.
Just outside Banker Harley's office was the desk of the bank veep. Unbeknownst to me, VP Warren had come back from his lunch hour and sat listening to the business being conducted between me and his boss.
Two days later, Saturday morning, I was filling the auto with petrol at the local station when Warren drove up on the other side of the pump. He introduced himself and said that he had heard that I was a teacher at Podunk Elementary School. Yes, indeed. "I", he said, "am vice-president and general flunky over at the bank. Why don't you stop by my house in a few and we'll chew some fat." Since he lived just around the corner and one block off the main drag, I thought, Why not? And thus began a life-long friendship. Warren was two years older than I, but his children were the same ages and in the same number as mine. Later, when our wives were introduced to each other, the foundation for a rewarding friendship was completed.
© 2010 David W. Lacy
Monday, July 26, 2010
blog sometime ago. Thursday I received my monthly alumni newsletter which included the images shown on this page. These were old cuts that were used in various school publications many years ago, and which the alumni association recently acquired. These will be housed in the museum which the organization maintains at the school.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
1. Naomi was burdened by tragedy. Having removed to a far country with her family, she subsequently lost her husband and both sons to death. (1:1-5)
2. Naomi was bitter against God. (1:13) "Call me Mara." (1:20) Tragedy comes to everyone. Naomi had life, opportunity, Ruth, and Jehovah.
3. Naomi was blinded to future hope. She was back home in the Promised Land when she expressed her bitterness.
[Christians have a responsibility to give hope of the gospel to those who seem to be without hope.]
- We must live by faith. Ruth asked to go into the field, saying, I shall find grace; and Naomi said, Go. (2:1-3)
- We must live by the grace of God, as Ruth bowed before the kinsman-redeemer, saying, Why have I found grace, seeing I am a stranger? (2:10)
- We must live in hope. Naomi said, Boaz is our near kinsman. It is good that you work with his servants. (2: 19 - 22)
Naomi placed her hope in who Boaz was: kinsman-redeemer;
in what Boaz did: he provided;
in what Boaz said: eat, glean, let my people watch over you.
There is hope today. By placing our hope in Christ the redeemer, we are saved.
We must live in hope!
Image: coolnotions.com [public domain]
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Friday, July 23, 2010
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Mrs. Lewis is a widow. She has two children, Will, seven and Pamela, nine. Like the neighbors on the other side of us, these are pleasant children, and our children have developed good rapport with them.
Mrs. Lewis, Carol to her friends, is a hard-working woman, clerking at the local general store by day, and taking in ironing which keeps her busy at all hours. She has her admirers; and has on numerous occasions, she confided to my wife, been asked "out." She has declined all these invitations, saying she is much too busy trying to raise her kids to get herself involved with a man who, "for crying out loud might need even more raisin' than they do."
On the other side of Mrs. Lewis live Mr. and Mrs. Adams. No one ever sees Mrs. Adams, except once a month when he guides her solicitously to the car. They always return in exactly four hours. I sort of got acquainted with Mr. Adams when I discovered that he played chess. We would meet in the little park behind the fire station perhaps three or four times each summer for a game. I never learned much about him from the "horse's mouth." We were so evenly matched at chess that virtually all our games ended in a draw.
But talk is not an expensive commodity in Loonville, and many people over the years were quite willing to fill me in. Not all the stories would fit appropriately into a family newspaper such as this one, but one of the best followed along these lines.
Mr. Adams is a genius. I can believe it. Mr. and Mrs. Adams are reclusive. No kidding. In his youth, Mr. Adams studied engineering at Purdue and was employed throughout his career by a leading construction company, where he rose to the level of High Mucky-muck. They bought the little house on Water Street when he retired and moved into the community. (This datum in itself leads me to suspect that much of what I was told was created from whole cloth, inasmuch as they were not "local." Neither were we, and heaven knows what was said about us.)
Mrs. Adams liked her little house very much, and Mr. Adams found much pleasure in tending the flowers and dressing the yard. But there was one flaw. The house had no basement, and the Missus very much wanted one, for whatever reason no one could fathom. So the Mister devised a plan to create the desired unit. Having sources (from his past career, you know) he obtained an unspecified amount of dynamite. But then we don't need to know how much. Only he needed to know, and he did. He labored over his drawings and the mathematical calculations into the wee hours of many a morning, until one day the time had come. He went into the crawl space with his blasting equipment, wires and such paraphernalia and set his charges, oh, so carefully, in just the right places.
Shortly after eight the following morning, that is after all the neighbors had gone to work and the kids were in school, there was heard a dull "Ka-whump!" in the neighborhood. It was said that the chinaware in the cabinets nor the vases on the tables never so much as jiggled. Mr. Adams then hired a group of transient laborers to remove the loosened earth from beneath his house. Then he proceeded to construct a finished basement under his domicile!
© 2010 David W. Lacy
Monday, July 19, 2010
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Friday, July 16, 2010
The little guy was still attending Washington School in Canon City. He still enjoyed recess time, with the marbles as the high point of the school day. And as we observed about his third grade teacher, the name of the fourth grade teacher is completely lost in the mists of flawed memory.
There were, though, some memorable events in the life of this nine-year old boy. It was during this year that the Boy began to take notice of girls as something other than just kids. There was one young thing in particular whom he noticed to an extreme. He sat mesmerized, mooning, one might say, over the very sight of this vision of loveliness. Her name was Betty. The conclusion of fourth grade was the end of any contact or knowledge of her whereabouts that the Boy had.
But, alas, Betty had eyes only for Jerry. Little flirt. Always... Anyway, Jerry was the son of the city's Firechief. Early training in rejection and dealing with the pain thereof.
Every Tuesday, each child brought to school a dime or dimes. Mid-morning, they all walked together in a rigid little line, two-by-two, the two blocks to the post office. There each one walked up to the counter in his turn and purchased a "war stamp." This, in its turn, was pasted into a booklet, which when filled, was turned in for a war bond. The Boy doesn't remember whether he ever completed a booklet or not. Bonds could be purchased in denominations as low as ten dollars which cost $7.50 and would be worth ten dollars at maturity.
Economic note: $7.50 in 1943 would be equivalent to about $95.00 in today's money. Which is to say, it would cost you more than a buck and a quarter to buy a '43 dime's worth of merchandise. It was, I think, in late '42 or early '43 that the price of a loaf of Wonder Bread at the corner grocery went from eight to nine cents. When I was sent to the store with a dime to fetch that loaf of bread, I would ask Mama if I could "spend the pennies." Often the answer was "No".
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Duck and Wheel with String discovered Goose with Frock and Bonnet on her front step. Lin is so not into kitsch. I get that. But this has prodded me into making this terrible confession. We have concrete statuettes in our yard. This SWaSD tableau is in our back yard, not visible from the street. Nor can the next-door neighbors see them unless they are looking for them. Is there an excuse for this? Yes. Yes, there is. They make BBBH happy! So it is likely that each spring I will place them somewhere in the backyard. Each fall I'll lug them back into the barn to protect them from the ravages of winter. And Snow White weighs ninety pounds. [groan]
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
I posted this tribute to Uncle Ben on his 90th Birthday.
I will miss this wonderful strong and righteous man.
This occured when, one Saturday as I watched her pushing her old reel-type mower across the front yard, I thought to do the Boy Scout thing, you know, the good deed. I walked over. She stopped. I reached for the machine handle, saying, "Let me give you a hand with that." Mrs. Smith jerked the handle away from me and snarled, "Look, Sonny. I'm perfectly able to take care of myself and my yard. I'm old, but I ain't dead yet." I allowed that I was sorry, only trying to be a good neighbor. She apologetically said, "I'm sorry, too. But if I stop moving, I'll lock up and maybe never get started again."
One evening, I confided in her that Dr. Malton seemed to me to be even more arrogant than the average sawbones. "Don't you give him no nevermind. I recollect that whippersnapper when he was nothin' mor'n a snot-nosed ragamuffin, runnin' 'round annoying all the neighbors. He ain't no better'n he oughta be."
Sadly, several years later, Mrs. Smith, now well past 95, said to me one day, "I just wish I could die." "Oh," I retorted, "you don't mean that." "Yes," she assured me. " I most certainly do. I've lived way too long. If you ever get to be this old, you'll understand."
It was not long before her wish came true.
© 2010 David W. Lacy
Monday, July 12, 2010
To the east is "downtown". It is 0.7 mi. to the courthouse and the post office. Many businesses operate in this downtown area. There is a commercial area half-mile farther to the east and on the edge of town. So, did you follow this? Our place: west edge of town. Barely over a mile away: east edge of town. Just about right for doing errands on the old bicycle. Given: Dry, warm weather.
I have lived in large cities (Seattle; Portland, Oregon). I have lived in mid-size and small cities (Colorado Springs; Lebanon, Indiana). If you have been following the "Loonville Vignette" series, you know that I have spent time in a really small town, and I once lived in a town even smaller than Loonville (Wilkinson, Indiana). I guess this place qualifies as a small city, or maybe town. But it is the county seat!
I think this is just about the perfect place in which to reside.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
These show the "atomic pink" quite well developed, though there are still some white spots in the centers, which will soon disappear.
This photo is entitled "Hydrangea with Hosta."
This blue one is not as vivid as some I've seen in the area, but it is the bluest of the ones I can walk around the yard and enjoy. (It is my next-door neighbor's.)
I particularly like the white ones just before they are white. The subtle pastel green just appeals to me. The larger one is a bit past the true green stage, but not yet white.
Hydrangea with Echinacea. These are in Dick's garden.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
I mentioned in an earlier chapter that our local doctor seemed always to be away when we most needed him. Two other cases in point were these.
Delbert had received a new bicycle for his sixth birthday. He was well past the training wheel stage, and in fact though his birthday was in June, the new school year was well underway. Saturday morning he rode down the alley and into the street, clearly without watching what he was doing, and was hit by the oncoming car. This might help draw the picture. The Heton's house was the last house in town, and the street, so far as traffic was concerned, more nearly resembled a country road than a city street. The young lady driving the car may not have been speeding, but she was moving. Witnesses stated that the boy "flew 15 feet in the air." I didn't see it, but it was obvious that he suffered a broken leg, and we could but rejoice that he was alive and conscious.
But the doctor was out of town.
Fortunately, there was a pretty decent hospital a dozen miles to the east, and the very competent ER team treated the boy, called an orthopedic surgeon, and I'm happy to report that forty-two years later, Delbert is just fine.
Our local GP had seen the wife through her pregnancy with our fourth child, but, you guessed it. When she went into labor, he was out of town. So she was delivered of child by a doctor whom she had never seen before.
I did get in to see Dr. Malton when my ribs were broken. "What's your problem?" "I think my ribs are broken." "Look, I'm the doctor; I'll do the diagnosing."
Yes, after a brief examination, you have two broken ribs. Keep an aspirin bottle handy and take a couple when the pain gets too severe. Pay the girl on your way out.
© 2010 David W. Lacy