Across the Fence #350
This past week, a bomb, bullets, and a deranged mind, brought death, destruction, and shock to the people of Norway. Peaceful Norway, where gun violence is almost unheard of, where most policemen don’t carry guns, will never be the same. The people of Norway have now been touched by the violence that is so prevalent in the rest of the world.
Anders Behring Bleivik, a 32 year old, native Norwegian, has admitted that he carried out both attacks that killed, at latest count, 76 people.
Breivik described his bombing of an Oslo government building and his shooting spree at a youth camp, run by Norway's Labor Party, as “atrocious” but “necessary” in his crusade against liberal immigration policies and the spread of Islam.
This sounds all too much like one of the most famous quotes to come out of the Vietnam War. “We had to destroy the village in order to save it.” It was attributed to an officer referring to the decision to bomb and shell the village of Ben Tre in 1968, in order to rout the Viet Cong from the village. They were willing to destroy the village and sacrifice civilian casualties in order to kill the enemy.
In both cases, many lives were lost and altered due to twisted thinking and differing ideologies. Both situations involved the killing of innocent people.
The teenagers who were at the camp and survived, will never see life in the same light again. Man’s inhumanity to man has once again shown its dark side. It reminded me of something I wrote while still in Vietnam back in 1966. These same words can apply to the young people in Norway who underwent the horror of that day and the killing of their friends.
This is what I wrote:
It doesn’t take long to age a boy in Vietnam. Young, in both age and spirit, we arrived in this war-torn land, full of the ideals and bright dreams of youth. Life has been good. There have been more flowers than thorns along our path.
We have a child’s confidence that all will be well, and as the fairy tales always end, “They lived happily ever after.”
Suddenly young bodies and hearts are thrown into war. Death stalks among us, plucking at random, the life and spirit from a chosen few, leaving the rest saddened, bewildered and frightened. You see bodies torn and ripped apart, voices that only a short time ago had been filled with hope and joy, now scream in pain. Others will be silent forever.
Rain pours. Mud envelopes the land. Mud that seems to reach out and pull your feet out from under you, that captures you and pulls you in. You struggle, you fall in the mud. Bullets fly and you try to bury yourself in the mud. You crawl through the mud and filth. This mud of war seems to cover everything, your eyes, your mouth, even your mind.
Where only a few short weeks ago a young boy full of hopes and dreams stood; now a dirty, bedraggled old man crawls on his belly through the mud. His hopes have turned to fear and frustration, his dreams to nightmares, his joy to sorrow, light has turned to dark, and life will never be the same for him again.
Survival is all that matters now. Life has lost its sense and meaning. The youthful zest is gone, replaced by sobering thoughts. Life has been stripped of the many centuries of civilizing and we are thrust again into the evolution of our past, and I see man as the animal he is, simply fighting to survive. It’s when this stage is reached, that men are changed and will never see things in the same light again.
I’m no longer the same person that arrived such a short time ago. It doesn’t take long to age a boy in Vietnam!
Those words were written a long time ago, but history keeps repeating itself and the dark side of humanity keeps raising its ugly head. Wars and killings, too often fought over religious and political differences, continue to cause death, pain, and suffering, for people around the world. I keep hoping that things will change, but it seems that everything is becoming more polarized all the time. A case in point, our own political parties and their differences.
I try to look for something positive in every situation, and try to keep “Across the Fence” positive too. I’ve agonized over even running this story, but there is a positive note.
My relative, Jon Olav Andersen, is the editor of the newspapers in Toten and Gjovik, Norway. He wrote to let us know that he and his family were safe. He said, “We are safe, but all are affected.” A classmate of his 18-year-old daughter was killed and another one escaped unharmed. He said a young Norwegian girl who survived the killings on the island said, “If one man full of hate can do so much, think what an entire nation full of love can do.”
I will leave you with that positive comment from her. Our hope for the future rests with the younger generation, if they can develop an attitude like she expressed. Perhaps they can show the rest of us the road to a more peaceful world.
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Sunday, July 24, 2011
A Dark and Stormy Night
Across the Fence #349
It was a dark and stormy night. I’ve always wanted to start a story with that line. Even Snoopy used it in the Peanuts comic strip when he was writing stories, sitting on top of his doghouse.
I’ve talked about darkness before, but it’s usually been associated with a story about looking at the stars at night. Unless you’ve looked at a night sky in the country, you’ve never really experienced the majesty and beauty of the universe. It’s a sight I’ll never get tired of seeing. When the stars and moon are shining, it may be dark, but I never feel like the darkness is oppressive or gloomy. It’s just the opposite; it’s uplifting.
Darkness is defined by Webster’s Unabridged Dictionary as “The absence of light; blackness; obscurity; gloom.”
I’ve experienced darkness in the country too, when clouds obscure the moon and stars. One summer night I decided to go for a walk on our road. It was really dark; like walking in a tunnel with no light at the end. Our road is straight, but as I walked slowly, I couldn’t tell where the road was and the ditches began. It was a very strange experience. It was definitely a dark night, but it wasn’t stormy.
The only lights in the country are from neighboring farms. Even most of those lights were either out or not visible from where I walked that night. I became so disoriented in the dark, I had to feel with my foot to see if I was about to step into the ditch. I could no longer tell which direction I was heading. I finally had to give up trying to walk and turned back toward our house where I could see lights in the windows.
I heard a quote that went something like this: “There’s not enough darkness in the world to put out the light of even one small candle.” I sure could have used a candle or a small flashlight that night.
I’ve got to admit, I like the darkness found in the country at night. The fewer lights the better, because the night sky then comes alive. I’m not a big fan of those yard lights that turn on automatically when it gets dark. There’s enough light pollution without them. Most evenings we can see the glow on the southern horizon from the lights in Viroqua. But that’s nothing compared to the lights around Madison when we lived there. In order to get a good view of the stars and universe we had to drive several miles into the country. We could never walk outside as we do now; look all around us and go “Wow, look at all the stars!”
Actually, we’ve had some dark and stormy nights this summer. That’s also awe-inspiring. Nature is impressive if you take time to observe and drink it all in. Lightning lights up the sky, revealing the massive storm clouds rolling across the prairie. A couple nights it seemed like there was constant lightning as it illuminated the towering cumulonimbus clouds in the distance, that seemed to reach for the stars.
It reminded me of the days of my youth when my cousin, Sandy, and I used to sit and look at the clouds. When we saw a hole in the clouds we thought we were looking into Heaven. If the bright sun suddenly shined through that hole, we thought we had caught a glimpse of God. When lightning flashed and the sound of thunder rolled across the heavens, we thought that God was angry about something we’d done. We often got into trouble together so we probably had a few things to feel guilty about. Those images and the fears we had, were instilled in us as young kids.
In my lifetime so much of that thinking has now changed, as we’ve gained more information about the universe. Now we know that we’re inhabitants on a tiny, blue dot in a universe too large for the human mind to comprehend. It stretches far beyond those holes in the clouds we used to peer through. I’m fascinated with the photos the Hubble telescope has taken of the universe. I’ve always had a curiosity to know what’s out there and keep an open mind to all the possibilities as new worlds are discovered. I’ve also adjusted my thinking to reflect our expanding knowledge and what we now know about life and the universe. My Heaven behind the clouds thinking is long gone.
It’s been said that character, like a photograph, develops in darkness. The same is true of the world around us. It only comes into focus when we allow it to develop. Then we begin to see the picture come to life. In art school we learned how to develop photos. As I stood in the dark, peering into the tray, the photo began to take shape. I was always fascinated by the process. At first the developing images didn’t make sense. Then more pieces began filling in and eventually the picture came to life. I’m still in the developing process of my thinking. Pieces are still filling in as I discover and learn more about life and the world around us.
And it all came into focus one dark and stormy night. Thanks to Alice in Arizona, for the genesis of this story.
It was a dark and stormy night. I’ve always wanted to start a story with that line. Even Snoopy used it in the Peanuts comic strip when he was writing stories, sitting on top of his doghouse.
I’ve talked about darkness before, but it’s usually been associated with a story about looking at the stars at night. Unless you’ve looked at a night sky in the country, you’ve never really experienced the majesty and beauty of the universe. It’s a sight I’ll never get tired of seeing. When the stars and moon are shining, it may be dark, but I never feel like the darkness is oppressive or gloomy. It’s just the opposite; it’s uplifting.
Darkness is defined by Webster’s Unabridged Dictionary as “The absence of light; blackness; obscurity; gloom.”
I’ve experienced darkness in the country too, when clouds obscure the moon and stars. One summer night I decided to go for a walk on our road. It was really dark; like walking in a tunnel with no light at the end. Our road is straight, but as I walked slowly, I couldn’t tell where the road was and the ditches began. It was a very strange experience. It was definitely a dark night, but it wasn’t stormy.
The only lights in the country are from neighboring farms. Even most of those lights were either out or not visible from where I walked that night. I became so disoriented in the dark, I had to feel with my foot to see if I was about to step into the ditch. I could no longer tell which direction I was heading. I finally had to give up trying to walk and turned back toward our house where I could see lights in the windows.
I heard a quote that went something like this: “There’s not enough darkness in the world to put out the light of even one small candle.” I sure could have used a candle or a small flashlight that night.
I’ve got to admit, I like the darkness found in the country at night. The fewer lights the better, because the night sky then comes alive. I’m not a big fan of those yard lights that turn on automatically when it gets dark. There’s enough light pollution without them. Most evenings we can see the glow on the southern horizon from the lights in Viroqua. But that’s nothing compared to the lights around Madison when we lived there. In order to get a good view of the stars and universe we had to drive several miles into the country. We could never walk outside as we do now; look all around us and go “Wow, look at all the stars!”
Actually, we’ve had some dark and stormy nights this summer. That’s also awe-inspiring. Nature is impressive if you take time to observe and drink it all in. Lightning lights up the sky, revealing the massive storm clouds rolling across the prairie. A couple nights it seemed like there was constant lightning as it illuminated the towering cumulonimbus clouds in the distance, that seemed to reach for the stars.
It reminded me of the days of my youth when my cousin, Sandy, and I used to sit and look at the clouds. When we saw a hole in the clouds we thought we were looking into Heaven. If the bright sun suddenly shined through that hole, we thought we had caught a glimpse of God. When lightning flashed and the sound of thunder rolled across the heavens, we thought that God was angry about something we’d done. We often got into trouble together so we probably had a few things to feel guilty about. Those images and the fears we had, were instilled in us as young kids.
In my lifetime so much of that thinking has now changed, as we’ve gained more information about the universe. Now we know that we’re inhabitants on a tiny, blue dot in a universe too large for the human mind to comprehend. It stretches far beyond those holes in the clouds we used to peer through. I’m fascinated with the photos the Hubble telescope has taken of the universe. I’ve always had a curiosity to know what’s out there and keep an open mind to all the possibilities as new worlds are discovered. I’ve also adjusted my thinking to reflect our expanding knowledge and what we now know about life and the universe. My Heaven behind the clouds thinking is long gone.
It’s been said that character, like a photograph, develops in darkness. The same is true of the world around us. It only comes into focus when we allow it to develop. Then we begin to see the picture come to life. In art school we learned how to develop photos. As I stood in the dark, peering into the tray, the photo began to take shape. I was always fascinated by the process. At first the developing images didn’t make sense. Then more pieces began filling in and eventually the picture came to life. I’m still in the developing process of my thinking. Pieces are still filling in as I discover and learn more about life and the world around us.
And it all came into focus one dark and stormy night. Thanks to Alice in Arizona, for the genesis of this story.
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Tobacco Fields Are Now History
Across the Fence #348
If you grew up on a farm that raised tobacco, you probably had a love-hate relationship with the crop. It was a lot of physical work and labor intensive. Everything seemed to be done by hand. Much of it was back breaking work. But there was also pride involved. You knew you’d been up to the task and survived the many physical challenges. Even now, I look back on those days with nostalgia. I can’t say that I felt that way when we were slaving away in the heat and humidity in a large tobacco field with no end in sight to the work at hand.
Thoughts of tobacco came to mind the other evening as we were driving some back roads. I realized that many of the fields we passed, used to be filled with tobacco plants instead of corn and other crops. Deteriorating, unused tobacco sheds still stand on many farms. The poles are still in place but haven’t seen a tobacco-filled lath for many years. The sheds stand waiting to feel useful again, but only death and destruction are in their future.
I can’t pass a tobacco shed without thinking of the life that used to go on within its walls. Those sheds remind me of all the work that had to be done before the tobacco was hung in the shed to cure.
It seemed like there was always a job for us kids to do when tobacco was involved. You didn’t have to be very old to hold a water hose and water the tobacco beds each day. We had several long beds, covered with a white, muslin cloth. When the plants were ready to transplant in the fields, we helped pick them and then two of us sat on the planter, row after long row, planting one plant at a time, while our father pulled the planter with our John Deere B. That was about as mechanized as anything got with growing tobacco.
Rainy days didn’t offer much relief from work either. As soon as the rain stopped we picked plants, put them in a pail we could carry, and headed for the fields to replant. We walked between two rows and looked for any plants that were missing or had died. Using a pointed wooden stick, we made a hole, inserted the plant, and filled the wet soil in around it. I wonder whatever happened to those replanting sticks we used? They were probably made from old broom or fork handles that were cut to about 6” long and sharpened to a point on one end. The other end was rounded so it didn’t hurt our palm as we pushed it into the ground.
Replanting involved a lot of walking and bending over, so it was a great chore for us youngsters. As many of you know, bending over gets harder as we get older. We often went barefoot in the wet, muddy soil. I can still feel the mud oozing between my toes. It was the only time we were allowed to go barefoot.
Hoeing tobacco came next. We hated hoeing. This was also another part of growing tobacco that was usually relegated to us kids. Dad would cut or rake hay while we spent hours chopping the weeds out from between each plant. One of the fields we had was huge and the rows were very long. It seemed like we’d be old men by the time we finished hoeing that field. I know we were very young when we started hoeing tobacco because my cousin Sandy and I were chopping at weeds when she dropped a big bombshell on me one day. She said there was no Santa Clause! Talk about a double whammy. There we were, child labor, slaving away in the hot tobacco field, and I’m told that Santa doesn’t exist. I don’t think I’ve ever been the same since that fateful day. I don’t remember how old I was, but I couldn’t have been very old if I still believed in Santa.
If we made a child that young work these days, we’d probably be hauled off to jail for child abuse. At that time it was standard operating procedure on every farm. Kids were expected to work, not just for a couple hours, but all day long. I believe it instilled a work ethic in farm kids that has served us well in whatever line of work we followed.
One subject I don’t hear discussed when talking about tobacco, is competitiveness. Just about every aspect of tobacco could develop into a race to show that you were the fastest. Think back to cutting tobacco. You were bent over for prolonged periods of time as you quickly grabbed each plant, bent it over, and with one swift swipe of the axe, chopped it off and laid it down. If you were fast enough, you had to stop every once in a while to let the person in front of you get ahead. You never wanted to hear that chopping sound behind you getting closer.
The same was true for piling and spearing tobacco. If someone else finished a pile faster than you did, you tried to speed up. You didn’t want to be the slowest one. It’s too bad they didn’t give out cash prizes for each event. That would have made the tobacco raising process much more interesting when we were young.
If you grew up on a farm that raised tobacco, you probably had a love-hate relationship with the crop. It was a lot of physical work and labor intensive. Everything seemed to be done by hand. Much of it was back breaking work. But there was also pride involved. You knew you’d been up to the task and survived the many physical challenges. Even now, I look back on those days with nostalgia. I can’t say that I felt that way when we were slaving away in the heat and humidity in a large tobacco field with no end in sight to the work at hand.
Thoughts of tobacco came to mind the other evening as we were driving some back roads. I realized that many of the fields we passed, used to be filled with tobacco plants instead of corn and other crops. Deteriorating, unused tobacco sheds still stand on many farms. The poles are still in place but haven’t seen a tobacco-filled lath for many years. The sheds stand waiting to feel useful again, but only death and destruction are in their future.
I can’t pass a tobacco shed without thinking of the life that used to go on within its walls. Those sheds remind me of all the work that had to be done before the tobacco was hung in the shed to cure.
It seemed like there was always a job for us kids to do when tobacco was involved. You didn’t have to be very old to hold a water hose and water the tobacco beds each day. We had several long beds, covered with a white, muslin cloth. When the plants were ready to transplant in the fields, we helped pick them and then two of us sat on the planter, row after long row, planting one plant at a time, while our father pulled the planter with our John Deere B. That was about as mechanized as anything got with growing tobacco.
Rainy days didn’t offer much relief from work either. As soon as the rain stopped we picked plants, put them in a pail we could carry, and headed for the fields to replant. We walked between two rows and looked for any plants that were missing or had died. Using a pointed wooden stick, we made a hole, inserted the plant, and filled the wet soil in around it. I wonder whatever happened to those replanting sticks we used? They were probably made from old broom or fork handles that were cut to about 6” long and sharpened to a point on one end. The other end was rounded so it didn’t hurt our palm as we pushed it into the ground.
Replanting involved a lot of walking and bending over, so it was a great chore for us youngsters. As many of you know, bending over gets harder as we get older. We often went barefoot in the wet, muddy soil. I can still feel the mud oozing between my toes. It was the only time we were allowed to go barefoot.
Hoeing tobacco came next. We hated hoeing. This was also another part of growing tobacco that was usually relegated to us kids. Dad would cut or rake hay while we spent hours chopping the weeds out from between each plant. One of the fields we had was huge and the rows were very long. It seemed like we’d be old men by the time we finished hoeing that field. I know we were very young when we started hoeing tobacco because my cousin Sandy and I were chopping at weeds when she dropped a big bombshell on me one day. She said there was no Santa Clause! Talk about a double whammy. There we were, child labor, slaving away in the hot tobacco field, and I’m told that Santa doesn’t exist. I don’t think I’ve ever been the same since that fateful day. I don’t remember how old I was, but I couldn’t have been very old if I still believed in Santa.
If we made a child that young work these days, we’d probably be hauled off to jail for child abuse. At that time it was standard operating procedure on every farm. Kids were expected to work, not just for a couple hours, but all day long. I believe it instilled a work ethic in farm kids that has served us well in whatever line of work we followed.
One subject I don’t hear discussed when talking about tobacco, is competitiveness. Just about every aspect of tobacco could develop into a race to show that you were the fastest. Think back to cutting tobacco. You were bent over for prolonged periods of time as you quickly grabbed each plant, bent it over, and with one swift swipe of the axe, chopped it off and laid it down. If you were fast enough, you had to stop every once in a while to let the person in front of you get ahead. You never wanted to hear that chopping sound behind you getting closer.
The same was true for piling and spearing tobacco. If someone else finished a pile faster than you did, you tried to speed up. You didn’t want to be the slowest one. It’s too bad they didn’t give out cash prizes for each event. That would have made the tobacco raising process much more interesting when we were young.
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Horse Liniment and Bug Repellents
Across the Fence #347
I recently wrote about the pesky bug problem everyone is having this summer. It sure helps to talk across the fence, because I’m now “almost” bug-free. I’ve heard from several people and finally found a solution to what was bugging me.
The first response came from Paul Seeling, publisher and editor of the papers in Woodville and Spring Valley, Wisconsin. After he received my Across the Fence column for the coming week, he suggested I import some of their wonderful Spring Valley bats, because they do a wonderful job of keeping pesky bugs away. I’m not real fond of bats and figure it would take a small army of them to control the bug infestation around us. Sorry Paul, but I think I’d rather have bugs flying around my head than bats.
The first message that provided an answer came from Marilyn Brandel, copy editor at the Fairfax Standard-Gazette in Minnesota. After receiving my column, she wrote me with a solution. “If you’re still looking for something to ward off those pesky gnats, try Absorbine Jr. At least in this part of Minnesota it seems to be working.” She also told me that supplies had sold out in most stores in the area. For me, that was a good indication that it was either working, or it was a good marketing campaign by Absorbine Jr. to sell a lot of their product. It was worth a try. I was desperate.
After the bug problem story was printed, I heard from several people, and they all had the same solution, Absorbine Jr. By that time, I knew it worked, because I had purchased a bottle after getting Marilyn’s advice. As I mentioned earlier, this sharing of stories and ideas across the fence helps find solutions to problems.
I’d heard of it, but wasn’t very familiar with the product. I thought it was a liniment used on horses. When I looked it up on the Internet, I found out it was developed back in 1892 and called Absorbine Veterinary Liniment. It was used for treating lame and overworked horses. Sometimes I feel a bit stiff, lame, and overworked, so maybe we were heading down the right path, even though I’m not a horse.
It said that farmers soon realized it also relieved their own muscle pains. Probably while rubbing it on their horses, it also provided relief for their aching, arthritic hands. If it worked on their hands they probably rubbed it on other aching joints, and found the aches and pains were helped. Maybe all that liniment rubbed on their horses and their own bodies, kept the bugs away too. It mentioned that it was used for fly control. A double relief!
After word reached the owner of the company that farmers were rubbing horse liniment on their own bodies for pain relief, the company developed Absorbine Jr. for humans. It’s a natural blend of botanical extracts that provides temporary relief of muscle aches, pains, strains, backache and arthritis. It also soothes hot, tired, itchy feet and has antiseptic qualities to help prevent infections. Over the years, Absorbine Jr. has become so popular that today it’s in more homes in the nation than any other liquid pain reliever.
It may be a pain reliever in more ways than the company thought. Those pesky bugs had become a real pain in the “you know what,” and I found relief after applying liberal amounts to an old, dirty hat. I was my usual skeptical self at first, because nothing else had worked. I decided to go out and do some yard work using a regular, non-smelly hat first, to see how bad the bugs were. They were all happy to see me, and quickly formed a cloud around my head. They were as pesky as ever. Now for the real test, I went in the garage and donned my Absorbine Jr. hat. I was ready to go out and meet the enemy, and see if it would work.
At first the little buggers surrounded me again, but they quickly left. Occasionally a bug would do a fly-by, get a whiff of my new perfume, and depart for better-smelling places. It worked! Since that time, I always apply a fresh supply on my hat before working outside. It is rather fragrant, but at least it keeps the bugs off and even masks the smell of the liquid manure that was just spread on the cut hay fields around our house.
I should mention that I haven’t noticed any mosquito bites lately either. I think it’s keeping them away too. So for everyone who’s felt like a prisoner in their home this summer because you can’t stand all the pesky flies and gnats that harass you when you go outside, get yourself a bottle of Absorbine Jr. and venture forth to meet the enemy. It worked for me and I hope it will work for you. Thanks to Marilyn, Nathan, Howard, and all the others who told me about it. You’ve made my summer and outdoor adventures much more enjoyable.
I may even try rubbing it on my arthritic hips and other joints and see if it helps those pains too. If it doesn’t help the pain, at least I know I’ll be bug-free.
I recently wrote about the pesky bug problem everyone is having this summer. It sure helps to talk across the fence, because I’m now “almost” bug-free. I’ve heard from several people and finally found a solution to what was bugging me.
The first response came from Paul Seeling, publisher and editor of the papers in Woodville and Spring Valley, Wisconsin. After he received my Across the Fence column for the coming week, he suggested I import some of their wonderful Spring Valley bats, because they do a wonderful job of keeping pesky bugs away. I’m not real fond of bats and figure it would take a small army of them to control the bug infestation around us. Sorry Paul, but I think I’d rather have bugs flying around my head than bats.
The first message that provided an answer came from Marilyn Brandel, copy editor at the Fairfax Standard-Gazette in Minnesota. After receiving my column, she wrote me with a solution. “If you’re still looking for something to ward off those pesky gnats, try Absorbine Jr. At least in this part of Minnesota it seems to be working.” She also told me that supplies had sold out in most stores in the area. For me, that was a good indication that it was either working, or it was a good marketing campaign by Absorbine Jr. to sell a lot of their product. It was worth a try. I was desperate.
After the bug problem story was printed, I heard from several people, and they all had the same solution, Absorbine Jr. By that time, I knew it worked, because I had purchased a bottle after getting Marilyn’s advice. As I mentioned earlier, this sharing of stories and ideas across the fence helps find solutions to problems.
I’d heard of it, but wasn’t very familiar with the product. I thought it was a liniment used on horses. When I looked it up on the Internet, I found out it was developed back in 1892 and called Absorbine Veterinary Liniment. It was used for treating lame and overworked horses. Sometimes I feel a bit stiff, lame, and overworked, so maybe we were heading down the right path, even though I’m not a horse.
It said that farmers soon realized it also relieved their own muscle pains. Probably while rubbing it on their horses, it also provided relief for their aching, arthritic hands. If it worked on their hands they probably rubbed it on other aching joints, and found the aches and pains were helped. Maybe all that liniment rubbed on their horses and their own bodies, kept the bugs away too. It mentioned that it was used for fly control. A double relief!
After word reached the owner of the company that farmers were rubbing horse liniment on their own bodies for pain relief, the company developed Absorbine Jr. for humans. It’s a natural blend of botanical extracts that provides temporary relief of muscle aches, pains, strains, backache and arthritis. It also soothes hot, tired, itchy feet and has antiseptic qualities to help prevent infections. Over the years, Absorbine Jr. has become so popular that today it’s in more homes in the nation than any other liquid pain reliever.
It may be a pain reliever in more ways than the company thought. Those pesky bugs had become a real pain in the “you know what,” and I found relief after applying liberal amounts to an old, dirty hat. I was my usual skeptical self at first, because nothing else had worked. I decided to go out and do some yard work using a regular, non-smelly hat first, to see how bad the bugs were. They were all happy to see me, and quickly formed a cloud around my head. They were as pesky as ever. Now for the real test, I went in the garage and donned my Absorbine Jr. hat. I was ready to go out and meet the enemy, and see if it would work.
At first the little buggers surrounded me again, but they quickly left. Occasionally a bug would do a fly-by, get a whiff of my new perfume, and depart for better-smelling places. It worked! Since that time, I always apply a fresh supply on my hat before working outside. It is rather fragrant, but at least it keeps the bugs off and even masks the smell of the liquid manure that was just spread on the cut hay fields around our house.
I should mention that I haven’t noticed any mosquito bites lately either. I think it’s keeping them away too. So for everyone who’s felt like a prisoner in their home this summer because you can’t stand all the pesky flies and gnats that harass you when you go outside, get yourself a bottle of Absorbine Jr. and venture forth to meet the enemy. It worked for me and I hope it will work for you. Thanks to Marilyn, Nathan, Howard, and all the others who told me about it. You’ve made my summer and outdoor adventures much more enjoyable.
I may even try rubbing it on my arthritic hips and other joints and see if it helps those pains too. If it doesn’t help the pain, at least I know I’ll be bug-free.
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Roads Less Traveled
Across the Fence 346
I think most people like to travel on main roads and freeways, where they can speed along and get to their destination in a hurry. That’s fine when you need to get from point A to point B, but I prefer the less traveled roads whenever possible.
People miss so many things when they have their pedal to the metal all the time. I guess if you looked in a dictionary under Sunday Drivers, you’d find a picture of Linda and me. We like to go for rides on back roads and cruise along slowly, enjoying the scenery, and watching for animal activity along the way. When an impatient driver gets behind us, I pull over and let them hurry on their way.
Some roads in Wisconsin are designated as Rustic Roads. When you travel on a Rustic Road, the speed limit is 45 mph. I think every road in Vernon County should be designated as a Rustic Road. It has to be one of the most beautiful, scenic areas in the country. Much of it is still wild, with a minimum amount of human habitation.
According to the Wisconsin DOT, a Rustic Road needs to possess the following qualities: It should have outstanding natural features along its borders, such as rugged terrain, native vegetation, native wildlife, or include open areas with agricultural vistas which singly, or in combination, set this road apart from other roads.
It should be a lightly traveled local access road, one which serves the adjacent property owners and those wishing to travel by auto, bicycle, or hiking for purposes of recreational enjoyment of its rustic features, and it should be a road not scheduled nor anticipated for major improvements that would change its rustic characteristics.
Most of the roads we like to travel on have those characteristics. They are definitely roads less traveled. It includes a lot of forested, wild country. I’ve often thought that a person who knew how to live and survive in nature, could hide out in those hills and coulees, and no one would discover them until hunting season, when the hills are alive with gun-toting, nature lovers. As my father used to say in his Norwegian accent, “Dose woods are really tick!”
Because the woods and vegetation are so “tick” this time of year, it’s such a different experience traveling on winding, hilly, country roads instead of the wide-open, busy interstate highways. The first thing you need to do if you want to enjoy a leisurely drive on a country road is slow down, roll the windows down, and turn off the air conditioning and radio. Then you’re ready to enjoy the ride.
As you drive slowly along, listen. Listen to the wind in the trees and grass. Listen to the birds singing. Listen to the gentle sound of water as it tumbles over the rocks if you’re alongside a stream. Stop and listen to the silence.
Feel the coolness of the shade on a hot summer day as you drive through a canopy of trees that reach out and form a tunnel over the road. It’s like driving through a time tunnel, back to a time when things seemed simpler and life moved at a slower pace.
As you wind your way slowly along those back-country roads, you’ll come across places that time has left behind. Abandoned farm houses and farm buildings are not uncommon. Their only occupants are now mice, birds, and the ghosts of the past. Quiet country roads are peopled with ghosts. I like to stop if there aren’t any no trespassing signs, and explore the old structures. I’m always looking for the story behind every door. Old barns and abandoned houses call out to be explored. You can almost hear the ghosts of past occupants, telling their stories.
As you travel slowly along country roads, you never know what animal or bird you may encounter around the next corner. We’ve come across deer eating alongside the road, deer and turkeys sharing the same cornfield, a red fox wandering along the ditch, bald eagles sitting in a tree or feasting on a carcass in a field beside the road. Rabbits, woodchucks, raccoon families, turkey buzzards, cranes, coyotes, cats out mousing alongside the road, and even an occasional skunk are spotted. Keep your camera handy for those Kodak moments.
When I need to slow down and unwind, a leisurely drive on country roads will do the trick. Be prepared to do a lot of waving too. The people you meet along those roads are friendly. They are down to earth, hard working people. They are people who also know about roads less traveled.
I’m often accused of never taking the same road twice. If we go one way, we always take another road home. I plead guilty as charged. As Yogi Berra said, “If you come to a fork in the road, take it.” He also said, “If you don’t know where you’re going, you may end up someplace else.” When I come to a fork in the road, I never know which way I may go. It’s always fun to find and explore new roads, country roads, the roads less traveled, and yes, we often end up someplace else.
That’s what’s great about taking roads less traveled. It’s always an adventure.
I think most people like to travel on main roads and freeways, where they can speed along and get to their destination in a hurry. That’s fine when you need to get from point A to point B, but I prefer the less traveled roads whenever possible.
People miss so many things when they have their pedal to the metal all the time. I guess if you looked in a dictionary under Sunday Drivers, you’d find a picture of Linda and me. We like to go for rides on back roads and cruise along slowly, enjoying the scenery, and watching for animal activity along the way. When an impatient driver gets behind us, I pull over and let them hurry on their way.
Some roads in Wisconsin are designated as Rustic Roads. When you travel on a Rustic Road, the speed limit is 45 mph. I think every road in Vernon County should be designated as a Rustic Road. It has to be one of the most beautiful, scenic areas in the country. Much of it is still wild, with a minimum amount of human habitation.
According to the Wisconsin DOT, a Rustic Road needs to possess the following qualities: It should have outstanding natural features along its borders, such as rugged terrain, native vegetation, native wildlife, or include open areas with agricultural vistas which singly, or in combination, set this road apart from other roads.
It should be a lightly traveled local access road, one which serves the adjacent property owners and those wishing to travel by auto, bicycle, or hiking for purposes of recreational enjoyment of its rustic features, and it should be a road not scheduled nor anticipated for major improvements that would change its rustic characteristics.
Most of the roads we like to travel on have those characteristics. They are definitely roads less traveled. It includes a lot of forested, wild country. I’ve often thought that a person who knew how to live and survive in nature, could hide out in those hills and coulees, and no one would discover them until hunting season, when the hills are alive with gun-toting, nature lovers. As my father used to say in his Norwegian accent, “Dose woods are really tick!”
Because the woods and vegetation are so “tick” this time of year, it’s such a different experience traveling on winding, hilly, country roads instead of the wide-open, busy interstate highways. The first thing you need to do if you want to enjoy a leisurely drive on a country road is slow down, roll the windows down, and turn off the air conditioning and radio. Then you’re ready to enjoy the ride.
As you drive slowly along, listen. Listen to the wind in the trees and grass. Listen to the birds singing. Listen to the gentle sound of water as it tumbles over the rocks if you’re alongside a stream. Stop and listen to the silence.
Feel the coolness of the shade on a hot summer day as you drive through a canopy of trees that reach out and form a tunnel over the road. It’s like driving through a time tunnel, back to a time when things seemed simpler and life moved at a slower pace.
As you wind your way slowly along those back-country roads, you’ll come across places that time has left behind. Abandoned farm houses and farm buildings are not uncommon. Their only occupants are now mice, birds, and the ghosts of the past. Quiet country roads are peopled with ghosts. I like to stop if there aren’t any no trespassing signs, and explore the old structures. I’m always looking for the story behind every door. Old barns and abandoned houses call out to be explored. You can almost hear the ghosts of past occupants, telling their stories.
As you travel slowly along country roads, you never know what animal or bird you may encounter around the next corner. We’ve come across deer eating alongside the road, deer and turkeys sharing the same cornfield, a red fox wandering along the ditch, bald eagles sitting in a tree or feasting on a carcass in a field beside the road. Rabbits, woodchucks, raccoon families, turkey buzzards, cranes, coyotes, cats out mousing alongside the road, and even an occasional skunk are spotted. Keep your camera handy for those Kodak moments.
When I need to slow down and unwind, a leisurely drive on country roads will do the trick. Be prepared to do a lot of waving too. The people you meet along those roads are friendly. They are down to earth, hard working people. They are people who also know about roads less traveled.
I’m often accused of never taking the same road twice. If we go one way, we always take another road home. I plead guilty as charged. As Yogi Berra said, “If you come to a fork in the road, take it.” He also said, “If you don’t know where you’re going, you may end up someplace else.” When I come to a fork in the road, I never know which way I may go. It’s always fun to find and explore new roads, country roads, the roads less traveled, and yes, we often end up someplace else.
That’s what’s great about taking roads less traveled. It’s always an adventure.
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Is Anything Bugging You?
Across the Fence #345
I don’t know about you, but I’ve sure been bugged lately. It’s been so bad at times, I can hardly stand working outside. The pesky little gnats have been terrible this year. Some people refer to them as little black flies. Some of the names they’re called can’t be used in a family newspaper.
It doesn’t seem to matter what time of day it is, those gnats are looking for something to attack. They’ve taken a real liking to me. They form little black clouds, swarm around my head, and follow me wherever I go. It can be 100 degrees, 50 degrees, windy, calm, early in the day, or late in the evening, it doesn’t seem to matter. As soon as I step out the door the little buggers are there to greet me.
I’ve tried several products and recommendations from people who claim that the anti-bug remedies worked for them. None have worked for me. I told you they like me. I read somewhere that the little buggers are attracted to our breath because of the carbon dioxide. It seemed like a logical solution was to wear a facemask. It didn’t work. I’m as blind as a bat without my trifocal glasses, and when I used the mask, my hot breath steamed up my glasses. So that didn’t work.
One person told me that Listerine would keep them away if you sprinkle some on yourself. It was worth a try. I found an old, dirty cap, poured some on it, sprinkled a little around my neck, and for good measure, gargled with some. After all, they are attracted to our breath. Then I went forward to meet the enemy. They won again. I think they liked how I smelled, and they seemed to hone in on me from every direction. At least my hair had a nice, clean, Listerine smell afterwards. My breath wasn’t bad either.
One day I saw a product at Walgreens as I was checking out. You know how they conveniently position items near the cash register so you’re forced to examine them while you’re waiting. This little product claimed it would keep the bugs off. It was a light green, coiled bracelet to wear on your wrist. It was less than $2.00 so I decided to give it a try. I took that little, sweet-smelling thing out of its plastic wrapper and put it on my wrist. Look out bugs, here I come.
Danged if those pesky little buggers didn’t love it. They swarmed around my head as I was trying to water the new trees and shrubs I had planted. I even tried putting my hand with the colorful, smelly wristband on top of my head. Surely that would repel them. Wrong! They seem to have developed an overwhelming attraction to me, and neither sleet and hail, eye of newt, and toe of frog, Wool of bat, and tongue of dog, Adder's fork, and blind-worm’s sting, Lizard’s leg, and howlet’s wing, or a hell-broth boil, while the fire burns and the cauldron bubbles, can scare them away. My apology to William Shakespeare and the three ugly witches in Macbeth for that great potion. When all else fails, resort to witchcraft. Unfortunately, even potions and witchcraft won’t keep the bugs away.
The $2.00 I spent for that insect-repelling wristband was certainly a waste of money, but at least it gave me some good story material to write about.
I know many people have resorted to wearing hats with mosquito-type netting hanging down from it to cover your head and neck. I’d try one of them but I think most stores have sold out. Vanilla hasn’t done the trick either. It made me smell good though… like a meal for gnats.
This whole buggy experience has reminded me of similar bug problems, in the heat and humidity of Vietnam. The mosquitoes were so bad at times, that nothing would keep them off either. We’d rub mosquito repellent all over our exposed skin, but that didn’t even help at times. I think our sweat and the daily rain washed most of it off.
One morning after sitting on an ambush patrol during the night, I counted over 50 mosquito bites on my hands in the morning. Needless to say, you didn’t go slapping at mosquitoes when you were trying to stay motionless and quiet. We may have been hiding, but you can’t hide from bugs and mosquitoes.
Sometimes I think the bugs and creepy crawly critters were more annoying than anything. One time at a forward firebase, the mosquitoes were so bad, we lit a pile of empty sand bags on fire and sat in the smoldering smoke to get some relief from them. The bugs won that battle too. Eventually you have to come out of the smoke.
As long as we’re talking about bugs, who can forget June Bugs. I saw a few of the big critters on our front porch last week. When I was young, it seemed like we had thousands of them. They swarmed around the yard light in the evening and hundreds of them would be on the ground. You couldn’t walk around without hearing the crunch when you stepped on them. Now if there was some way to crunch those pesky gnats.
Oh well, I try to look on the bright side, they won’t bug us once winter weather arrives!
I don’t know about you, but I’ve sure been bugged lately. It’s been so bad at times, I can hardly stand working outside. The pesky little gnats have been terrible this year. Some people refer to them as little black flies. Some of the names they’re called can’t be used in a family newspaper.
It doesn’t seem to matter what time of day it is, those gnats are looking for something to attack. They’ve taken a real liking to me. They form little black clouds, swarm around my head, and follow me wherever I go. It can be 100 degrees, 50 degrees, windy, calm, early in the day, or late in the evening, it doesn’t seem to matter. As soon as I step out the door the little buggers are there to greet me.
I’ve tried several products and recommendations from people who claim that the anti-bug remedies worked for them. None have worked for me. I told you they like me. I read somewhere that the little buggers are attracted to our breath because of the carbon dioxide. It seemed like a logical solution was to wear a facemask. It didn’t work. I’m as blind as a bat without my trifocal glasses, and when I used the mask, my hot breath steamed up my glasses. So that didn’t work.
One person told me that Listerine would keep them away if you sprinkle some on yourself. It was worth a try. I found an old, dirty cap, poured some on it, sprinkled a little around my neck, and for good measure, gargled with some. After all, they are attracted to our breath. Then I went forward to meet the enemy. They won again. I think they liked how I smelled, and they seemed to hone in on me from every direction. At least my hair had a nice, clean, Listerine smell afterwards. My breath wasn’t bad either.
One day I saw a product at Walgreens as I was checking out. You know how they conveniently position items near the cash register so you’re forced to examine them while you’re waiting. This little product claimed it would keep the bugs off. It was a light green, coiled bracelet to wear on your wrist. It was less than $2.00 so I decided to give it a try. I took that little, sweet-smelling thing out of its plastic wrapper and put it on my wrist. Look out bugs, here I come.
Danged if those pesky little buggers didn’t love it. They swarmed around my head as I was trying to water the new trees and shrubs I had planted. I even tried putting my hand with the colorful, smelly wristband on top of my head. Surely that would repel them. Wrong! They seem to have developed an overwhelming attraction to me, and neither sleet and hail, eye of newt, and toe of frog, Wool of bat, and tongue of dog, Adder's fork, and blind-worm’s sting, Lizard’s leg, and howlet’s wing, or a hell-broth boil, while the fire burns and the cauldron bubbles, can scare them away. My apology to William Shakespeare and the three ugly witches in Macbeth for that great potion. When all else fails, resort to witchcraft. Unfortunately, even potions and witchcraft won’t keep the bugs away.
The $2.00 I spent for that insect-repelling wristband was certainly a waste of money, but at least it gave me some good story material to write about.
I know many people have resorted to wearing hats with mosquito-type netting hanging down from it to cover your head and neck. I’d try one of them but I think most stores have sold out. Vanilla hasn’t done the trick either. It made me smell good though… like a meal for gnats.
This whole buggy experience has reminded me of similar bug problems, in the heat and humidity of Vietnam. The mosquitoes were so bad at times, that nothing would keep them off either. We’d rub mosquito repellent all over our exposed skin, but that didn’t even help at times. I think our sweat and the daily rain washed most of it off.
One morning after sitting on an ambush patrol during the night, I counted over 50 mosquito bites on my hands in the morning. Needless to say, you didn’t go slapping at mosquitoes when you were trying to stay motionless and quiet. We may have been hiding, but you can’t hide from bugs and mosquitoes.
Sometimes I think the bugs and creepy crawly critters were more annoying than anything. One time at a forward firebase, the mosquitoes were so bad, we lit a pile of empty sand bags on fire and sat in the smoldering smoke to get some relief from them. The bugs won that battle too. Eventually you have to come out of the smoke.
As long as we’re talking about bugs, who can forget June Bugs. I saw a few of the big critters on our front porch last week. When I was young, it seemed like we had thousands of them. They swarmed around the yard light in the evening and hundreds of them would be on the ground. You couldn’t walk around without hearing the crunch when you stepped on them. Now if there was some way to crunch those pesky gnats.
Oh well, I try to look on the bright side, they won’t bug us once winter weather arrives!
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Dixie Cups and Submarines
Across the Fence #344
I had a Dixie Cup ice cream recently and it just wasn’t the same. Oh, the ice cream was fine, but a Dixie Cup will always be missing something for those of us who remember when there were pictures on the bottom of the lids. When you pried up the lid, you never knew whose picture you might find. It was usually a famous cowboy, like Roy Rogers, or a Hollywood star. At least that was the case when I remember seeing them.
I decided to look Dixie Cups up on the Internet. I found out those pictures on the lids were used for 24 years, from 1930 to 1954. In that case, I was only ten years old when they discontinued the pictures. I could have sworn that I was much older when I was still finding pictures on the lids.
The first Dixie lids illustrated circus animals and performers in full color. They were associated with the Dixie circus radio stories of 1930, and they lasted for two years. The next group of lids appearing in 1932, was called “The Nature Series,” and featured dogs, birds, fish, and butterflies. In 1931, a special set of U.S. president lids was produced exclusively for the Philadelphia Dairy Products Company. In 1933, the first movie star series began. The first cowboy to appear was a profile of Ken Maynard in 1934.
I remember Roy Rogers’ picture, and discovered he was not only King of the Cowboys, but also king of the cowboy lids. His likeness appeared 12 times. The leading Hollywood stars were Bing Crosby and Johnny Mack Brown. Ginger Rogers and Betty Grable were the leading actresses.
There were also baseball stars featured in 1952 and 1953. Milwaukee Braves left-handed pitcher, Warren Spahn, was one of them. I found out that only 24 covers were issued each year. During the years of World War II, covers depicting the war effort were used.
I didn’t remember that there was a thin piece of wax paper over the top of the picture to protect the ink from the ice cream. When you pried up the lid, you removed the wax paper to reveal the picture. Dixie printed the pictures in blue during the even numbered years from 1938 to 1952, and a brownish color in odd numbered years from 1937 to 1953.
How many of you remember all that? Did any of you collect the different Dixie Cup lids? Most of the lids can now be found for $2 to $3 in mint condition, except for a few of the more popular ones, like John Wayne and Hopalong Cassidy. They can fetch $25 or more. If you collected the baseball series of 1952, many of those lids can bring $100 because of their rarity. I know we had a bunch of Dixie lids at one time, but I suspect they were long ago relegated to the trash burn pile and went up in a cloud of smoke, along with many other “treasures.”
We can’t forget that we also got ice cream in those Dixie Cups. That was always a special treat. They even came with a small wooden spoon to eat the ice cream with. They resembled those wooden sticks a doctor puts in your mouth to make you say, “Ahhhh.” Except the Dixie spoons had a flat spoon shape on one end. Do you remember those spoons?
It’s surprising what memories are triggered by a simple thing like a Dixie Cup filled with ice cream, and what pleasure they brought to us when we were young. Remembering those picture lids, also brought back memories of cereal box offerings from the 1950’s.
Do you remember Baking Powder Submarines? They were introduced in 1954, during the time of the first nuclear powered submarine. They were advertised on Kellogg’s cereal boxes. You had to mail in a quarter, along with the cereal boxtop to prove you had bought the cereal. It was a great advertising gimmick to sell cereal to kids. I remember sending in my quarter and the boxtop and then not so patiently waiting the two or three weeks for it to arrive. My folks didn’t need to ask me to get the mail, because I anxiously checked the mailbox every day, hoping I’d find a package for me inside.
It was a great day when the package, addressed to me, finally arrived. I might add, it was always a big deal for us kids to receive a letter or package in the mail. It didn’t happen very often. We filled that little submarine, about four inches long, with Ma’s baking powder, filled the bathroom sink, and watched in wonder as our little submarine cruised around, under the water! When it ran out of fuel (baking powder) it would rise to the surface and we’d have to refuel it. I wonder how much of Ma’s baking powder we “wasted.” I guess it didn’t take much to amuse us. I think my brother, David, probably sent for one too, or the two of us would have been fighting over who was the commander of the one sub.
Later, a smaller version of the submarine came in the cereal box, and also Navy frogmen that operated on baking powder.
Kellogg’s cereal and Dixie Cups were our ticket to some simple pleasures when we were young. I think the food involved was secondary.
I had a Dixie Cup ice cream recently and it just wasn’t the same. Oh, the ice cream was fine, but a Dixie Cup will always be missing something for those of us who remember when there were pictures on the bottom of the lids. When you pried up the lid, you never knew whose picture you might find. It was usually a famous cowboy, like Roy Rogers, or a Hollywood star. At least that was the case when I remember seeing them.
I decided to look Dixie Cups up on the Internet. I found out those pictures on the lids were used for 24 years, from 1930 to 1954. In that case, I was only ten years old when they discontinued the pictures. I could have sworn that I was much older when I was still finding pictures on the lids.
The first Dixie lids illustrated circus animals and performers in full color. They were associated with the Dixie circus radio stories of 1930, and they lasted for two years. The next group of lids appearing in 1932, was called “The Nature Series,” and featured dogs, birds, fish, and butterflies. In 1931, a special set of U.S. president lids was produced exclusively for the Philadelphia Dairy Products Company. In 1933, the first movie star series began. The first cowboy to appear was a profile of Ken Maynard in 1934.
I remember Roy Rogers’ picture, and discovered he was not only King of the Cowboys, but also king of the cowboy lids. His likeness appeared 12 times. The leading Hollywood stars were Bing Crosby and Johnny Mack Brown. Ginger Rogers and Betty Grable were the leading actresses.
There were also baseball stars featured in 1952 and 1953. Milwaukee Braves left-handed pitcher, Warren Spahn, was one of them. I found out that only 24 covers were issued each year. During the years of World War II, covers depicting the war effort were used.
I didn’t remember that there was a thin piece of wax paper over the top of the picture to protect the ink from the ice cream. When you pried up the lid, you removed the wax paper to reveal the picture. Dixie printed the pictures in blue during the even numbered years from 1938 to 1952, and a brownish color in odd numbered years from 1937 to 1953.
How many of you remember all that? Did any of you collect the different Dixie Cup lids? Most of the lids can now be found for $2 to $3 in mint condition, except for a few of the more popular ones, like John Wayne and Hopalong Cassidy. They can fetch $25 or more. If you collected the baseball series of 1952, many of those lids can bring $100 because of their rarity. I know we had a bunch of Dixie lids at one time, but I suspect they were long ago relegated to the trash burn pile and went up in a cloud of smoke, along with many other “treasures.”
We can’t forget that we also got ice cream in those Dixie Cups. That was always a special treat. They even came with a small wooden spoon to eat the ice cream with. They resembled those wooden sticks a doctor puts in your mouth to make you say, “Ahhhh.” Except the Dixie spoons had a flat spoon shape on one end. Do you remember those spoons?
It’s surprising what memories are triggered by a simple thing like a Dixie Cup filled with ice cream, and what pleasure they brought to us when we were young. Remembering those picture lids, also brought back memories of cereal box offerings from the 1950’s.
Do you remember Baking Powder Submarines? They were introduced in 1954, during the time of the first nuclear powered submarine. They were advertised on Kellogg’s cereal boxes. You had to mail in a quarter, along with the cereal boxtop to prove you had bought the cereal. It was a great advertising gimmick to sell cereal to kids. I remember sending in my quarter and the boxtop and then not so patiently waiting the two or three weeks for it to arrive. My folks didn’t need to ask me to get the mail, because I anxiously checked the mailbox every day, hoping I’d find a package for me inside.
It was a great day when the package, addressed to me, finally arrived. I might add, it was always a big deal for us kids to receive a letter or package in the mail. It didn’t happen very often. We filled that little submarine, about four inches long, with Ma’s baking powder, filled the bathroom sink, and watched in wonder as our little submarine cruised around, under the water! When it ran out of fuel (baking powder) it would rise to the surface and we’d have to refuel it. I wonder how much of Ma’s baking powder we “wasted.” I guess it didn’t take much to amuse us. I think my brother, David, probably sent for one too, or the two of us would have been fighting over who was the commander of the one sub.
Later, a smaller version of the submarine came in the cereal box, and also Navy frogmen that operated on baking powder.
Kellogg’s cereal and Dixie Cups were our ticket to some simple pleasures when we were young. I think the food involved was secondary.
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