Saturday, April 28, 2012

"POP"



A MEMORIAL TO MY GRANDAD
........................................................................................................................

Grandfathers have many names,
Where they all come from---
No one is sure.
Paw Paw, Gramps, Pop Pop,
Gran, Grand, Poppy,
Grampy, Grandy, Pee Paw,
Big Daddy, Big Pop, Pa...

My granddad we simply called "Pop."
He deserves to live on, and not be lost
Forever from all Americana.
For: He WAS A GREAT AMERICAN!
The kind that has made our country what it is!

Born to an East Texas farm family
into hard and humble beginnings--
All he EVER knew...was hard work,
daylight to dark.

Probably never had a vacation--
Never had a television; didn't matter anyway,
 It was hard for him to watch,

for when a young man, in a storm, under a
sheltering tree, he was hit by lightning!
Lived, but was always blind in one eye.
Wore thick glasses...

Never had a telephone 'til very late life;
Didn't matter either, for, in those days phones
were not for "endless palaver" (as T.S. Eliot said)
But for "we're a coming to see ya," or
"Somebody died."

He never had a full first  name, or even a middle name;
He was simply known as "D," plus his last name.
Big families, lots of kids, people just
ran out of names, I guess;  maybe ink was scarce.
Remember the "J.T's" and rhe "R.B's"... and on...
Signing everything "D." saved time.

A contemporary of all the great WWII generals,
("Pop" was born in 1889),
He likely never went to high school.
He knew cotton farmin'...and  some maize growin'.
He knew mules too, handled them all the time
as he grew up, and had deep dents in his beat up shins
where the mules had kicked him.
He said, it'd make you sick
to get kicked by a mule.

Up 'til he got his first bright red Farmall tractor,
about 1939 (it looked beautiful sitting there under the elms
right next to his his house--where it was safe; I saw it!),
He used to harness those mules, nolens volens,
then walk behind them all day, holding that heavy plow
in the ground, plowing rows SO STRAIGHT, you couldn't
believe it. I went once in 1938, and helped him, and watched
him plow (while someone watched me!)
His rows were straight as arrows.

My own Dad said a number of times:
" 'Pop' is the best farmer I've ever known!"

But don't forget, before the mules and plowing,
he had to get up at 4 a.m. to feed the livestock,
milk the cows, and eat some good old country ham and eggs,
Biscuits and grits, yes grits!
To be ready for all that walkin'.
And the cows, remember, had to be milked
again before bedtime.

He moved from East Texas to Dawson County,
That is south of Lubbock;  Lamesa country--
Don't say it La Mesa--the natives say--"Lameesa."
Bought a piece of land, and moved into an old
gray-wood farmhouse, cold and drafty...
It was from then on "The Old Jones Place."
Kept that land, bought another farm as time passed,
The new place had a big drafty two story gray-wood house,
where I stayed once with hot bricks, wrapped
in blanket pieces, by my feet...under quilts.

"Pop" was a no-nonsense sort of man;
Not your sentimental type.
To raise a family and make a living in rural America...
was not for sissies. If there were crop problems, or
financial problems--you were your own "welfare."
The Jeffersonian idea of little or no government applied.
That is, until 1933.
Farmers raised chickens for eggs and fryers.
They depended on cows for milk, butter, cheese and dairy products.
When the family kin came, "Pop" brought out his big
ice cream freezer--the hand-turn kind--and all the men
sat outside, and had a turn at the turn.
Egg nog at Christmas was a big event to "Pop."

Farmers from time immemorial depended on pigs,
for much important food--ham, bacon, sausage, pork chops.
Hog-killin' time came when it got real cold.
"Pop" sometimes would give each kid a hog at Christmas.
Thus we butchered four, an all day thing, and more..
I helped, as a ten year old, cut up fat
for renderin' in that big black pot outside,
and with "Pop's" sharp knife, cut right through
My fingernail into my finger and got sick and dizzy...
He could really sharpen a knife.
Hog butcherin' night we had fresh liver to eat, (Oh, Goody!)
and for breakfast next day, we had "brains and eggs."
Only the squeal was wasted.

By 1937, he had worked hard, saved up, and
built a brand new white clapboard house,
With a black wood shingle roof---it had two bedrooms,
And a large tall three-car garage that he called:
"The Car House." Just as well--the three car idea--
For when the boys went off to fight WWII, their cars
were safely parked in there.
On the back of the car house was a room for the sons,
and a Separator Room for doing something to cream...
 Right in the middle of the back yard was a grape arbor,
 with grapevines every six feet; they climbed, spread, and made
 a marvelous cool, good-smellin' shade in summer.

The new house had a porch off the front bedroom, 
 later screened in, for sleeping hot nights;
When the boys were off in the war, we sat out there
after supper, and talked, and you could hear cars or trucks
miles away, those  lonesome night farm sounds...
that carried, forever.


I loved "Pop's" windmill and its homey clangy sound.
It was right across the fence from the kitchen.
Someone had taken an old Pabst Blue Ribbon beer can,
and as only farmers, handy with their hands,
and wire could do---had fashioned a wire handle for that
old can; it hung there by the faucet which when
turned on, put out a delicious stream of cold water.
As a  boy, that's where I stayed, drinking all his water,
and wearing out his Pabst can.

Though his house was small by today's standards,
He went first class for those times...nice little red barn,
Big white chicken house, "tractor shed" for the new Farmall,
With a little meat storage room in one end for hanging
and curing pork.
Dust Bowl days were not over; on west side of his house 
was a fifty yard grove of elm trees, four rows deep...
as a windbreak.
His house had a nice rock wall all the way around it---
Front yard to back, not tall, but nice.

When down there at his place in 1950, I went to bed early,
while  Dad and "Pop" went two miles over on his land,
to watch them drill for oil.
A gusher came in, middle of the night, and I missed it.
My grandad eventually gave up growing chickens, pigs, cows,
And bought his food in town like the rest of us.
But he kept plowing on his Farmall 'til he was 65.
In his house, the rooms kept heated were the kitchen and back bedroom.
The back bedroom was where "Pop" sat to rest, in his rocker.
 An old Philco upright radio stood near the corner of the room, 
 so he could listen to W. Lee "Pappy" O'Daniel and
 his "Texas Hillbiily Band" ("Pass the biscuits, Pappy!"),
 or H.V. Kaltenborn, on the news...or Fibber McGee and Molly
 if Dallas radio was coming in with no static...
 A Cloverine Salve single shot ,22 rifle stood in the corner
 near the radio; one of the boys sold a lot of Cloverine Salve
 to get it. Kept there, mostly unnoticed, it was for two or
 four-legged varmints (or hog killin');
 Not that anyone worried about varmints much
 in  those days; the doors weren't even locked at night.
 Anyway,  the only .22 ammo around the farm
 was buried in the ash tray with the needles, pins, and buttons.

 The main art in the room was the famous old picture
 of the big wolf up on the snowy hillside
 and the lights of the far off little village
  down in the valley.
  Probably purchased one day at Woolworth's...

  "Pop's" only work apparel was that of all farmers--
  Blue bib overalls, with an old blue or khaki work shirt.
  On Saturday afternoons, all farmers went to town.
  It was just done that way then... all over rural America.
  "Pop" put on his pressed khakis, tooled leather belt,
  Stetson hat, and best shoes. On arriving in town
  He would get a shine-- whether he needed it or not.
  The barber shop was the center of social activity.

  It was the only time you would ever see him
  wear his gold pocket watch, with the chain draped
  out of his khaki watch pocket. Looked nice--dressed-up-like.

  The whole population of the county, it seemed
  Wound up on the shady west side of the square,
  on  those Saturday afternoons....
  there across from the courthouse In Lamesa.
  Familiar family words: "See you later on the 'west side.' "
  They sat on car fenders in front of
  Penney's, Anthony's, others, and two drug stores with their fans
  sending out onto the sidewalk--those great fountain smells,
  and  a little bit of cool air. 

  My "Pop" rests today in the Lamesa cemetery, a half mile
  from his house. He passed away in 1973.
  Not once did he ever go to town or return home that he 
  didn't  pass that cemetery and was reminded I suppose
  every time, of his mortality.

  His middle son rests there too, the one who graduated from
  Texas A&M, went right into the Army Air Force, came back as a Captain;
  One hot June day in 1955, "Pop" and his son were plowing; 
  A thunderstorm came up suddenly, and they tried to drive out of the field.
  A hundred yards across the road from "Pop's" house--
  a lightning bolt flashed and hit my uncle on his tractor.
  I later saw the two Farmalls, sitting over there,
  one twenty yards behind the other.

  We loved my uncle, the "captain".  He was 36 years old and had "gravitas".
  On his grave is the inscription:  "May your rest be as sweet as our memory of you."

  


  A little story for wrap-up:
  Times were hard in the 30's; people worked for a dollar a day,
  and were glad to get it.
  I was very small; Dad needed a job;
  Found one in a laundry at Wink, Texas.
  We took it, got down there, and the nice employer
 gave us the use of a little empty house behind the laundry.



  One day, in about 1936, I'm guessing,
  "Pop" loaded up an old cotton trailer, with 
  a surprise for us...a gift.
  He pulled that trailer all the way from Lamesa to Wink...
   behind his old tan Dodge sedan.

  Drove up to our little house, got out,
  went around to the back of the trailer,
  and came back around, leading something, for us.
  It was a...
  cow.

"Pop"s house today.....


 ------30------
By Mil
4/27/12

Monday, April 23, 2012

"LEANING ON THE EVERLASTING ARMS"





"The eternal God is thy refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms."
......Deuteronomy 33:27
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
In 1887 Anthony J. Showalter, a minister/evangelistic singer, was in an Alabama town leading a singing school in a church. Two separate letters came during that week from grieving friends back in South Carolina--they had both lost loved ones. In replying to these friends he looked for an appropriate Bible verse and selected Deuteronomy 33:27.

Dealing often with bereaved folks, and thinking about this Bible verse, he wrote this simple hymn about the "everlasting arms." He enlisted Samuel Duncan to compose the music. The hymn has appeared worldwide in over 1000 hymnal editions and in almost every language.The hymn tune was given the name "Showalter." This is a warm and meaningful hymn--loved by generations of believers.

Quoted here are  two of the stanzas:

What a fellowship, what a joy divine,
Leaning on the Everlasting Arms,
What a blessedness, what a peace is mine,
Leaning on the Everlasting Arms.

Oh how sweet to walk in this pilgrim way,
Leaning on the Everlasting Arms,
Oh how bright the path grows from day to day,
Leaning on the Everlasting Arms.

Chorus:
Leaning, leaning,
Safe and secure from all alarms;
Leaning, leaning,
Leaning on the Everlasting Arms."
---------------------------------------------------------------
The Sound Track of "TRUE GRIT" (Remake)

Being a fan of the first "True Grit", I couldn't wait to see the new one.  Imagine my surprise when I sat down to view the remake and first heard the sound track!  The upshot is that I loved the music, and if you do some serious Googling, you will find numerous people testifying as to how much they liked it and what it meant to hear the hymns some hadn't heard since childhood. Some viewers went back to see it numerous times and other couples hummed  or sang softly along with the piano music, right there in the theater.

These days we have brought new music styles into the church, telling the people "This is the way we worship now," so what could be more fitting than taking our old beloved hymns to the movies?

There were actually four hymns used in the sound track: "Leaning on the Everlasting Arms," "What a Friend Have in Jesus," "Hold To God's Unchanging Hand," and "In The Glory Land Way." The first mentioned was the predominant piece, and the last I am unfamiliar with. It was used only once, I think. During my sixteen years as a music director, I ran across "Hold To God's Unchanging Hand" in an old song book, cut it out, and sang it many times as a solo in revivals.

The producers of "True Grit" were astute in selecting excellent musicians and getting a good "historical" sound from the pianist and the orchestra. One is reminded of Ken Burn's similar treatment and feel for music in HIS numerous successful documentaries. That is another subject, but let me just here point out Burns'  use of the old gospel song tune, "How Can I Keep From Singing?" in "Mark Twain," and "Stand Up, Stand Up For Jesus" in "Frank Lloyd Wright."

The comments of a couple of the "True Grit" viewers interested me greatly. From one: "These words, unsung, still weave this film into a bulwark of faith...a beautiful, almost sacred production." And another:"Hearing this music in this production of 'True Grit' gave it a power I was not prepared for. It was amazing how these songs took me back in time."

For you musicians reading this, may I suggest several OTHER hymns that I thought about which might lend themselves to historical-sounding treatment and to being possible movie  sound track selections. Depending on the type movie, I like these: "On Jordan's Stormy Banks," "When I Can Read My Title Clear,""Bringing In the Sheaves," "Come Ye Sinners, Poor and Needy," "How Tedious and Tasteless the Hours," "O Happy Day," "Ash Grove,"and "Autumn." We'll just have to wait and see---what will be the next film to utilize these kinds of great old songs?

You are wondering, "Mil, which 'True Grit' did you like best?" Well, there'll always be a warm spot for the first one; after all it had John Wayne and Robert Duvall. I preferred the ending on the first. But  the second was good too, with Jeff Bridges--and that marvelous, memorable, and unbeatable sound track, "Leaning On the Everlasting Arms!"

From "True Grit":
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VmhBUxUDPTA&feature=youtube_gdata_player


------30-----
By Mil
4/22/12



Sent from my iPad

Thursday, April 19, 2012

TALES OF A FIFTEEN YEAR OLD WHEAT TRUCKER


Get yourself a Diet Pepsi and some nachos and settle down for a wild truck ride with Mil...and oh yes, hang onto your pants! I'm fixin' to tell you some stories!

Why in the world do you think I am such a fan of that great History Channel program, "The Ice Road Truckers?" No, it is not just because they have a cute "girl trucker" on there; it is because I used to be a trucker myself--- a WHEAT TRUCKER!

It all started this way...After WWII, my dad, worn out from seven years of running a steam laundry in CLOVIS, N.M. all by himself--with never a vacation, decided to change occupations. (To add to the stress, those years, from 1941-45 saw the building of the Clovis Army Air Base west of town. With all these soldiers in town, the laundry had all the clothes it could do for a week by Mondays at noon.)

So my dad had bought a half section of land a mile from Ranchvale, N.M. Note, a section of land is one mile square-- thus a half section is a mile long and a half mile wide. Starting from scratch at farming, we had no truck or pickup. Equipment and barrels of gasoline were hauled in an old trailer behind our trusty dark blue Master Deluxe 1941 Chevrolet, which had lasted us throughout the war.

One day when I was thirteen and "helping" my dad out there with small gofer jobs, he had to move the tractor and plow away across to the east side of that one mile long piece of land. He didn't want to have to walk back to retrieve the car and trailer...and thus right there I learned to drive. Yes, "he threw me into the pool!" He started the old Chevrolet for me, put me into the driver's seat, and somehow I got it into gear (with that atrocious vacuum shift), let out the clutch, and miraculously took off across that terraced soft bumpy land.

The 1941 Chevy had a pull throttle and I just pulled it out to the max, not knowing anything about floor accelerators, I went flying across there lickety-split and made it to the other side of the field. Instead of using the brake, I just simply turned off the key! Smart, eh?

So, that story is told so that you will be amazed to hear that within rwo years, I would be riding a combine, driving a tractor, and driving a big wheat truck holding 18,000 lbs. of wheat---to the grain elevator west of town.

The summer of 1949 saw a huge bumper wheat crop for the whole Eastern New Mexico area. The wheat elevators in every town--Clovis, Melrose, San Jon--all over--were backed up with trucks waiting to unload their wheat. The elevators were all full and waiting for trains to come, and carry away the surplus wheat.

Dad bought a brand new two-and-a-half ton wheat truck with a bright barn-red bed on the back. Visualize a very big pickup-looking vehicle with a long-wide bed about four feet deep. It had a thick steel bar across the middle to prevent bulging. The rig had six big tires. About 15,000 lbs. was a pretty good load for this truck but I was handed weight receipts at the elevator with more than 18,000 lbs. delivered--several times.

But I am getting ahead of myself...You see, a farmer works all year, planting, hoping for rain, crossing his fingers that the crop will "come in" okay, and thus have a living for his family for another year; he watches the weather and prays--then about June, when the wheat is ready to cut, he will work day and night to get it harvested. A HAILSTORM COULD WIPE HIM OUT! And very fast at that. Neighbors often help each other get the harvest in.

So, while my dad kept the combine rolling and continued cutting wheat, he came up with the idea that I would become a 15-year-old wheat trucker. So in those early farming days before self-propelled combines and modern dumping methods, one would just ease the truck in to the combine, right side of the bed under the bin; then someone would lift the lever and all the grain would slide out into the truck. It held maybe 10 bins of grain.

With the truck loaded out in the middle of the field on the soft dirt, I had to start it rolling in compound gear ("Granny" gear, "we truckers" called it.) No, there was no "peeling out." Once you got on harder ground and picked up some momentum you could shift to low, second and on up. May I modestly say, with a little credit to myself, that I was a careful driver.

By this time we owned more land north of town and the trip to town from this farm required going across a deep draw on the highway. (It certainly seemed deep to me driving that bulging, sluggish truck!) To an auto, it was nothing. Anyway, loaded with wheat, I eased over the lip of that draw, realizing that I could pick up speed and start weaving and swaying, and perhaps burn out the brakes trying to contol that big heavy truck-- and pile up at the bottom in a heap! Also, I didn't want any blowouts going at full speed.

Thus I invented the "Mil Maneuver," (sometimes called the "Chicken Maneuver.") Here it is:  As I went over the lip of the draw and looked steeply downward to the bottom, I braked and put the truck into second. Then on picking up speed, I tapped the brake, picked up more speed, tapped the brakes again..and so on...four or five times. I was in CONTROL! Oh JOY! No pile-ups, and luckily no other teen-agers were watching! BUT, there is a cause and effect; in everything there is a reckoning. Mine came in trying to figure out how to get that big truck up a half mile of steep, steep hill!

So as I approached the level-off and crossed the bridge, I was giving the truck all the gas I could. Then went to high gear, but that didn't last long, and had to hit second but that didn't last long either; I began to die, and hit low, double-clutching all the way, as "we truckers" were wont to do. It is embarrassing to say, that I had to go to compound gear for the last few hundred feet! Messy trucking? Er, yes, but I'm still here!

Trucking was exciting but it had its downsides, such as the hay fever from being around the dust and pollen. Also like the time we had about 16,000 lbs.on the truck and it started raining out in the middle of the soft field. Then we discovered that an inside rear tire was flat.

I will close with this trucker story. Luckily, and thanks to the Lord, I never had any accidents or mishaps--except one. This happened to ME, and not the truck. After dumping my load of wheat at the elevator west of town one hot summer afternoon...sneezing and wheezing from all that wheat dust that blows around elevators, I realized that the truck had a nearly empty gas tank. We bought our gas from an old friend whose company was located near the underpass on the southeast side of Clovis. We will call our old friend Cletus.

I drove over there and eased the truck in by the pump. Cletus and I chatted easily as he was filling the gas tank right behind the cab. I, standing nearby, was relaxing. Somehow during this operation, the hose came out or Cletus failed to get it turned off in a timely way. I was suddenly deluged with two or three gallons of gas all over my body from the waist down. It went all over my jeans, shoes, and everything in that area. I was soaked!

Cletus immediately felt terrible and apologized. He said: "What'll we do?" Quickly surveying the situation and knowing Cletus smoked, I said: "Well, don't light a cigarette!" Secondly I said: "I don't have any spare jeans with me. " And thirdly, "I think it will just evaporate quickly." (WRONG!) So I signed the gasoline ticket and took off on the eight mile run back to the farm.

I was barely out of town on the Grady highway when my body started to burn. The farther I went, the more I burned. Friends, it sounds funny now, but it was a serious problem. I pulled the truck off the road just north of town, opened every window, big and little, and made some drastic sartorial adjustments. Suffice it to say: It was the .only time in my stellar trucking career that I ever arrived back at the farm with my pants around my ankles!

So goes the life and times of a fifteen-year-old wheat trucker in the forties.

-----30-----
By Mil
4/19/12

Monday, April 16, 2012

"POETICALLY SPEAKING...." MORE QUOTES


"The sea is calm to-night.
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits--on the French coast, the light
Gleams and is gone, the cliffs of England stand,
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Come to the window, sweet is the night air!
Only, from the long line of spray
Where the sea meets the moon-blanch'd land,
Listen! you hear the grating roar
Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,
At their return, up the high strand,
Begin, and cease, and then again begin,
With tremulous cadence slow, and bring
The eternal note of sadness in."

"DOVER BEACH"
....Matthew Arnold (1822-1888)
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree:
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.
...............
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of paradise."

"KUBLA KHAN"
....Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834)
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Tyger! Tyger! burning bright,
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could have framed thy fearful symmetry?"

"THE TYGER"
.....William Blake (1757-1827)
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"But Mousie, thou art no thy lane,
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best-laid plans o' mice an' men
Gang aft agley,
An' lea'e us nought but grief and pain,
For promis'd joy!

Still thou art blest, compared wi' me!
The present only touchest thee:
But och! I backward cast my e'e,
On prospects drear!
An forward, tho' I canna see.
I guess an' fear!"

"TO A MOUSE"
....Robert Burns(1759-1796)
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I will arise and go now; and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet's wings.

I will arise and go mow, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements gray,
I hear it in the deep heart's core."

"THE LAKE ISLE OF INNISFREE"
....William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"What is genius but the power of expressing a new individuality?"

....Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806-1861)
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rage at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know that dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle imto that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who taught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good might.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good might.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

"DO NOT GO GENTLE INTO THAT GOOD NIGHT"
....Dylan Thomas (1914-1953)
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

-----30-----
BY MIL, 4/16/12

Sunday, April 15, 2012

"POETICALLY SPEAKING...." FAMOUS QUOTES


"This royal throne of kings, this sceptered isle,
This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,
This other Eden, demi paradise.
This fortress built by Nature for herself;
Against infection and the hand of war,
This happy breed of men, this little world,
This precious stone set in the silver sea,
Which serves it in the office of a wall
Or as a moat defensive to a house,
Against the envy of less happy lands,
This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England!"

William Shakespeare (1564-1616)
from "KING RICHARD II, " Act 2, Scene 1
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Ah, a man's reach should exceed his grasp, or what's a heaven for?"

Robert Browning
"ANDREA DEL SARTO"
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Stop! Christian passer-by---stop child of God,
And read with gentle breast: Beneath this sod
A poet lies or that which once seem'd he.
O, lift one thought in prayer for S.T.C.
That he who many a year with toil of breath
Found death in lfe, may here find life in death!
Mercy for praise---to be forgiven for fame
He ask'd and hoped through Christ. Do thou the same!"

Samuel Taylor Coleridge's epitaph.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Bene lava," (Wash your feet well.)
from a mosaic at the entrance to a Roman villa.
"Cave canem." (Beware of dog.)
from a Roman mosaic.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"No man is an Island, entire of itself;
Every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main;
If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less,
As well as if a promontory were, as well as a manor
Of thy friends or thine own were;
Any man's death diminishes me because I am involved in mankind.
And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls;
It tolls for thee."

John Donne (1572-1631)
(He wrote on themes of love, death, and religion; was called by some "The Metaphysical Poet.")
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Music has charms to soothe the savage breast."
from "THE MOURNING BRIDE" spoken by Almenia in Act 9, Scene 1

"Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, nor hell a fury like a woman scorned."
spoken by Zara (above play), Act 3. Scene 7.

"O fie, miss, you must not kiss and tell!"

Above quotes by William Congreve (1670-1729)
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"FROM THE PILLARS OF HERCULES TO THE GOLDEN HORN."

A beautiful poetic reference often used by writers to refer to the Mediterranean Sea, from
The Strait of Gibraltar to the Bosphorus.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

-----30-----
By Mil, 4/15/12

Thursday, April 12, 2012

GREATEST U.S. COIN....THE "WALKING LIBERTY" HALF DOLLAR


There is something about the Walking Liberty half dollar, called the most beautiful U.S. coin ever minted, that is unforgettable.  Designed by artist Adolph A. Weinman (who also designed the highly-praised "Mercury" dime) in 1916, this coin was the "coin of the realm," until replaced in 1947 by the Franklin half dollaar.  One possible reason for its demise was said to have been minting problems, i.e. "problems in its striking." 

The question is: can a single coin epitomize an era, a period of history, a society, and maybe inspire thoughts of days gone by...a trip down memory lane?

For me THIS COIN CAN!  It was the main coin I grew up with.  Order yourself four or five of these from Littleton Coin Company.  Carry them around.  Clink them together in your pocket.  Hold them in your hand.  Don't they have a nice heft?  Don't they make your day?  Look at them....the solidity, the artistry, the beauty---and the memories of a past time in the history of our great country!

These are the coins folks carried during the Roaring Twenties, the Great Depression and WWII (sixteen million servicement carried them).  The nice thing is that there were plenty of them; people didn't hoard them.  Americans carried them and spent them.  Why is it that we use only quarters today...and no halves?

These coins seemingly were plentiful, but NOT to my class of society---ten year old boys.  It took some doin' to earn one and when you got one, you hesitated to spend it.  It felt too good in your pocket.  Two or three of them and you thought you were RICH!

We boys of that era used every bit of our energy in the summertime to find a job.  We took our push mowers through the neighborhoods and mowed lawns for fifty cents each.  We cleaned out chicken pens and cow pens (yes, in town!)  We hoed weeds, delivered circulars, and collected pop bottles.  One time they were building a new church in our end of town and we scraped the mortar off old bricks for two cents each.  We got severely sunburned and wore out our dads' hatchets.

If we could bring ourselves to part with our "50 cent pieces," here are some of the necessities they would buy:

*a haircut
*a WWII model airplane kit
*a "Dave Dawson in the RAF" book
*an Xacto knife, for model airplane building
*5 Saturday double features at the Lyceum Theater
*10 big 12 oz. Pepsis
*50 cents worth of shingle nails
*1 Tom Mix Signal Ring
*2 ham salad sandwiches with cokes at Woolworth's
*12 Baby Giant Firecrackers, and 2 cents change

Let's take a look at a written description of the coin: 

The Obverse:  Lady Liberty walking and holding branches, United States flag over her shoulder...
The Reverse:   bald eagle rising from a mountain perch..

Art historians and experts consider the Walking Liberty half dollar to be one of the most beautiful U.S. coins.   Accordingly, when the official bullion coin of the United States was released in 1986, the obverse was an adaptation of Weinman's Walking Liberty.  They are almost identical.  The coin, pictured below, is guaranteed to contain 99.9% pure silver.

Today, from LCC, a "very fine" Walking Liberty half dollar will cost you around $48.00.  It's the silver and the rarity that costs.  May as well just get yourself one, and sit and handle it and remember past times in our great country....and in your life..... when you were ten, five, two, or maybe you weren't even here yet during the Walking Liberty era!

God  Bless America, land that I love...stand beside her, and guide her, through the night....




                                              U.S. Silver Bullion Coin
.........30..........
By Mil, 4/11/12

Saturday, April 7, 2012

GOODBYE, DEAR WALLANDER!



A year ago we had never heard of Henning Mankell, an internationally known Swedish author and playwright. Time Magazine brought him to D-Mo's attention. Since then, we have read every book (about eight) in his Kurt Wallander detective/mystery series.

Indications from the writer, and events in the latest book, seem to reveal that the recent "Troubled Man" was the final Wallander book. D-Mo said to me: "It feels like we have lost a friend!" Wallander was not your every day run-of-the-mill tough cop, "taking perps out"  with great relish.

He was a regular guy with a rumpled jacket, unshaven (before unshaven was “in”), on a budget, doing his own cooking and laundry, forgetting to sign up for the washing machine in his building, forgetting or seldom carrying his gun, having toothaches or stomach distress, suffering insomnia, and sadly having only one recipe in his cooking repertoire---the omelet. Nonetheless, he was a brilliant, incisive, perceptive, and excellent detective.

The thing about Wallander books is that Mankell made every detail--- going to the market, getting a cup of coffee, driving to a crime scene, deciding to walk to work, watching a cold Swedish norther through his apartment window, doing his laundry, trying to whip up a snack, and his general mental processes---as interesting as the more dramatic events in his life.

Where Mankell differs from and exceeds a lot of detective/mystery writers is precisely in the above mentioned ability to flesh out and establish his characters and not the least important---the surroundings and weather. In some ways he reminds us of P.D. James, another writer of this genre who is noted for being literary and descriptive.

With Wallander, you lived in his mind---most of the time you knew what he was thinking---or you were tipped off that he was playing mentally with a clue. This piqued your interest.

You were there in Ystad, Sweden, his town, when a storm was coming up, and the street light pole outside his apartment window began to sway a little, and that dratted old tree branch was starting to blow and scrape his building again. You, the reader, on reading that Ystad was expecting minus 10 Centigrade weather, would go out to your backyard thermometer and check your Fahrenheit/Centigrade thermo, doing some quick calculation to see how cold that really was.

As mentioned, he sometimes had to borrow a gun from a citizen, having left his locked in his office safe. (European cops' attitude toward firearms might seem a little bit naive to American cops.) His car gave him constant problems and he was always figuring out how he might trade it in and finance a replacement.

In a long book, the hero's name must be mentioned dozens and dozens of crimes. Mankell has come up with a great name: Wallander. You never notice it; it rolls right off the tongue.

The whole world appreciates Henning Mankell and his contributions to literature and drama.  He has won many awards and is published in many countries. Our hats are off to him!

And, GOODBYE, DEAR WALLANDER, We already miss you!



----------30-----------

By Mil, 4/10/12









Sent from my iPad

Friday, April 6, 2012

MIL'S PLACE IS ONE YEAR OLD!



Writing MIL'S PLACE for one whole year has brought an enormous amount of satisfaction...and fun to me.

You readers have been great with your comments, observations, suggestions, and encouragement. You have graciously contributed paragraphs! For all these things I sincerely thank you!

Here is a complete list of POSTS. To read any one of them, just Google Mil's Place: The Post Title. Or you may still "scroll down."

LIST OF POSTS:

56. "A THOUSAND LOST GOLF BALLS"
55. NOW i'VE HEARD IT ALL: A "PORK 'N BEAN SPOON?"
54. WILD TURKEY  STORY: HUNDREDS SAY "WONDERFUL!"
53. THE GREAT CLOVIS HIGH SCHOOL CAPER: "BUT HE GOT HIS GLASSES!"
52. RATTLESNAKE RECOLLECTIONS FROM READERS
51. A RATTLESNAKE UNDER THE SCRABBLE SET ON THE COFFEE TABLE
50. "MOM, MAKE SOME PIGS IN THE BLANKET, PLEE-E-ZE!"
49. "BE IT EVER SO HUMBLE, THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE HOME..."
48. "SOFTLY AND TENDERLY, JESUS IS CALLING"
47. PEANUT BUTTER! THAT WONDERFUL MIRACLE
46. THIS FISH STORY IS A DOOZY!
45. "CHOW CHOW".... AMERICAN AS APPLE PIE!
44. HOT SUMMER DAY! COLD DRINK OF WATER FROM A WINDMILL!
43. HEY, KEEP ONE CAMERA FOR GUTIERREZ AND EUBANK!
42. "PLEASE PASS THE STUFFED DORMICE!"
41. "OUR SUPPER CHICKENED OUT!"
40. "WE DON'T DO THAT KIND OF STUFF"
39. MIL'S READING SUGGESTIONS FOR THE NEW YEAR
38. I HATE THE "WHITE  ELEPHANT"  GIFT THING, DON'T YOU?
37. "JOY TO THE WORLD, THE LORD IS COME!"
36. "WONDERFUL BIRTH, TO A MANGER HE CAME"
35. "BASEBALL'S SAD LEXICON": TINKER TO EVERS TO CHANCE
34. MIL'S LIST OF BOOKS READ IN 2011
33. THE STRANGE, FASCINATING, AND SAD STORY OF THE "LADY BE GOOD "
32. WHAT THIS COUNTRY NEEDS IS A GOOD 75 CENT MUFFIN
31. QUILTS RESPONSE....FROM A FRIEND OF SEVENTY YEARS
30. I NEVER MET A QUILT I DIDN'T LIKE
29. THIS BUNDT....IS A HOME RUN!
28. MAKE SOME TOMATO PRESERVES! WE DID!
27. JUST WHAT IS "GUMPTION?"
26. HOW WOULD YOU LIKE SOME "DEFILED EGGS?"
25. "OLD BLUE THREADBARE ROBES"
24. EXPLORING THE RIDDLE OF RHYTHM IN PROSE
23. DO YOU OWN A "RANDALL?"
22. NORTHERN NEW MEXICO: "THE FARAWAY"
21. RUPERT, THE LITTLE DEER, IS A LITTLE DEAR!
20. PLEASE DON'T DROP MY CHANGE!
19. COCK-AND-BULL STORY: A TRIBUTE TO ANIMALS
18. "ER, WHERE DO THE  FLYING BUTRESSES GO?"
17. MIL'S PLACE: A COMPLETE LIST OF POSTS
16. DO YOU LIKE SOLANTUM LYPERSICUM ON YOUR HAMBURGER?
15. THE OLD RUGGED CROSS: MOST-LOVED HYMN OF THE TWENTIETH CENTURY
14. WHAT HAPPENED TO THE RAISINS?
13. RAT-KILLING, AS A CAREER
12. DO YOU KNOW YOUR BEANS?
11. "CWM RHONDA"--- A GREAT HYMN TUNE
10. "LORENA"--- SWEETHEART SONG OF THE CIVIL WAR
9.   "ETERNAL FATHER, STRONG TO SAVE"
8.   A FUNNY THING HAPPENED ON THE WAY TO THE  OVEN!
7.   WOE IS I? WOE IS HE WHO THINKS IT IS WOE IS ME!
6.   "OH, THAT SORITICISM!"
5.   "I DON'T NEED NO STINKIN' STEER MANURE!"
4.   "HE SKUN A GUY DOWN IN TEXAS!"
3.   TWO HAUNTING TUNES
2.   "THE LESSER OF TWO WEEVILS"
1.   THE TREE OF FREEDOM

--------30-------
By Mil, 4/4/12

Sent from my iPad