HOT SUMMER DAY! COLD DRINK OF WATER FROM A WINDMILL!

It was the summer of 1948. The place was near Ranchvale, New  Mexico. I was driving a big CASE "Wheatland" tractor pulling a 22 1/2 foot One-Way plow. (I would much rather have been in town, at the swimming pool, catching rays with most of the other teen-agers.) But here I was, having risen at first light, which at that time of year was about 4:30 a.m.

I had been plowing since 6:00 a.m. It was 95 degrees, hot, no-breeze; the dust, and there was plenty of it, was rising so slowly, straight up, and simply hanging in the air around the tractor---wait, the tractor's ever-so-little-bit of movement at 3 1/2 mph was creating a tiny bit of suction as I crept along.

I couldn't outrun or get away from this dust!  A dirty job--yes, but someone had to do it. But why me?

My blue chambray work shirt (yes, THEN, they were WORKSHIRTS), was completely faded on the shoulders and back. I felt like I was cooking back there. I was totally covered with dust on the outside, and likely inside also.  Breathing was difficult.

The sky had this brassy look, perhaps akin to the sky in "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner." It was not what I'd call a "friendly sky"-- one with all those big fluffy neat clouds around.

This was hot, boring work. It's a wonder I'm still here today, for I was very prone, as you can imagine, to getting sleepy. In fact, I would sometimes just doze off for a few seconds--long enough for my right wheels to get out of the rut, and to you non-plowers, that meant that I was leaving a gap maybe 75 feet long, shaped like a long triangle, of unplowed land--staring my meticulous-plower-dad right in the face when he came back. Thus I would make a sharp left turn, circle around, (think of it as rewinding) and come back into my rut and plow out the triangle of whitish soil which I had left.

The only problem I had now, was to make several laps around the land and plow out my circle, thus covering up my error, and avoiding a chewing-out from my dad. So I did that...

Tired and bored, dirty and sleepy, hot and dry...that was I. But wait!!! What is that in the sky out west toward Melrose!!?? Clouds are starting to build up and come in my direction! Maybe some rain... and I can quit and go home! I watch and watch and YES, they are coming east! My suffering may be alleviated! They are building...building...building. It is a storm cloud--a big one!

After a couple of hours it arrives! Beautiful thunderheads. Big ones. the whole sky is getting dark. The wind is getting strong. Things are cooling off! Oh joy!  THE WINDMILL DOWN AT THE BARN IS TURNING FAST! If I were closer I could hear that wonderful "clang-clang" that windmills make. The best water you can imagine is being brought up from 282 feet down, on a sucker-rod.

Uh-oh, some lightning. My signal to get out of the field. I head for the windmill. I get out of the old pickup, run up to the mill, bend down and turn the faucet on...cold water is gushing out. I take off my old beat up straw hat, porous though it is, fill it with water and just pour it over my head and shoulders; yes, I get wet!!! Who cares?! I do it again. Then I scoop the water into my hands and drink it, and drink some more. Then I wash my face with that cold water; and take the old muddy water bag (from off the tractor) clean it off and fill it with fresh,cold water.

It is now raining down pretty good, and shucks--you know, my plowing is over for the day!  Well, nothing left to do but head into Clovis, get a shower, and maybe go down to the old Lyceum Theater for a movie with the gang.

I leave, wet and cool, and with another happy memory of our old windmill,  my favorite thing.

                             "Leaning Windmill and Painted Sky", by Mil

by Mil

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HEY, KEEP ONE CAMERA FOR GUTIERREZ AND EUBANK!

Talk about danger? I'll tell you about danger. Anyone who doubts me...or LOVES LIVING ON THE EDGE, this is the intersection for you!
---Calling all daredevils...
---Retired Indy 500 race drivers...
---Those who are suicidal...
---Teen-agers who like to "peel out"...
---Little old ladies with "true grit"...
---Smug car-tune-up guys...
---Anyone with a hot car that goes from 0 to 60 in two seconds...
　
I have just the challenge for you all! As we continue, it is important for you and my other readers to visualize this dangerous corner, the subject of this post. It is where Gutierrez, running from west to east, meets Eubank running north and south: a "T" intersection.  Going East on Gutierrez, you hit your brake at the stop sign and wait for the opportunity to turn right onto Eubank.  Cars are whizzing by in front of you.

Here is the "catch" :  on your left a hill slopes down to the north, and cars are visible to you only 60 yards away, just as they nose over that hill, going south, doing 45-50 mph. It is difficult to know if the approaching car is somewhat over the speed limit or a lot over. You are just an honest tax-paying citizen, meaning no harm, just wanting to turn; but here you've got an incredibly dangerous decision.  Do I Go or Don't Go? (There is a 30 mph speed limit sign at the bottom of the hill;  HO!HO!HO! Give me a break--do you think ANYONE is paying any attention to that sign?)

Finally you have to either go, or back up and turn around, which irritates the cars stacked up behind you. You have a split second to act...YOU GO. Now the car coming uphill, violating the law (always speeding) is on your tail within seconds---and you talk about HONK CITY--- you'd think he has a new horn he's proud of.   Though he's speeding, he's blaming ME for pulling out in front of him!  Not only that, he's making naughty hand gestures at me, and casting aspersions on my ancestry. Friends, who created this scenario? I can tell you, it wasn't the Moriarty Traffic Department!

Many residents, familiar with this corner, and this is true: in the interest of living their three score and ten, just simply don't use this corner.

What is sorely needed at the bottom of the hill is:

(a) A blinking light, and a 15 mph sign, just like a school zone. I am dead serious about that.

(b) A police car, sitting there at least 12/7 with the proverbial pile of peanut shells by the driver's
window (as in the movies)

(c) One of those unused traffic cameras (which I hate) set up there. (We all know they're
coming back anyway, sooner or later.)

Though there might be a hint of humor in this article, make no mistake, this is a serious intersection. If the city were to research this corner, they might say, "Wait, there have been only X accidents there, and Y deaths." Well, if you're one of the Y's, it's about as bad a corner as it gets. Anyway, what about the hundreds of us "nervous wrecks?" Aging before our time...

Hey, you speeders, what part of "30 mph" don't you understand???? Maybe you might understand a speeding ticket!! The limit ought to be 15 mph anyway!

By Mil, 1/25/12
　
　
　
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"PLEASE PASS THE STUFFED DORMICE"

In Dr. Steven L. Tuck's (from The Great Courses) 36 lecture course titled "Experiencing Rome: A Visual Exploration of Antiquity's Greatest Empire," he is not giving us a chronological history of the Roman Empire--year by year--Caesar by Caesar. Other courses do that quite adequately and a number are available. Dr. Tuck is describing for us old Rome through maps, diagrams, drawings, paintings, pictures of extant buildings, arches, and ruins. Not only that, but in the process, he is incorporating Roman life--customs, daily routines, entertainments, and so on, as they went about their daily lives.

The reason I wanted this course was to have a mental picture of this famous place so as to have some pegs on which to hang Roman history: wars, rulers, and political events. He does go at length into the habits of the Romans, including events at the coliseum such as athletic games, mock battles, gladiator contests and Christians vs. lions.

A very interesting and informative section is his discussion and description of the famous Roman baths. It seems that these were a main factor in Roman life--to the extent that all manner of business and social activities were carried on there, as well as health-related opportunities. One famous Roman bath of 34 acres, parts of which are still visible, housed food outlets, beauty salons, "spas," shops, libraries, and alcoves where much business and social interaction took place. Read about the plumbing available to this facility and you will be amazed! (Several sources say that Rome had the most extensive and excellent water system of any city in history up to early modern London and New York. See "Aqueducts" at end of post.)

As noted above, much business was conducted at the "baths," particularly by lawyers, politicians, and businessmen; it was not common in those days for many professions to have offices. So these professionals  met their clients there. And because of a lack of decent inns, wealthy out-of-town clients usually expected to be invited to eat and spend the night at the often lavish home of their patron.

Let me parenthetically note at this point that middle to lower class Romans didn't have it so good; they often lived in a single room in an "apartment house" type dwelling with little or no kitchen facilities, and no running water or bathroom facilities.

Back to our more prosperous Roman merchants/businessmen who were expected to entertain their out-of-town customers.  As was the custom, many homes had lavish wall paintings and murals. One extant mural discovered in Pompei, shows a lady dinner guest being propped up by a slave, and clearly (in modern parlance) she is "feeling no pain". This slice of life is taken to show that at Rome's famous dinners, the drink "flowed freely".

Banqueting among the upper class, either for social purposes, or business purposes was very common. And as noted, out-of-towners spent the night. The dinner itself would have been of multiple courses; what all was served is unclear but one writer notes that the Roman palate was attuned to exotic (by our standards) foods--notably unusual body parts of animals. (Reminds one of our early farm folks who ate brains and eggs, pig ear sandwiches, pig's feet and souse.) One favorite hors d'oeuvres of these people was STUFFED DORMICE. One can almost hear them say: "Please pass the stuffed dormice,"

These wealthy Romans usually had lavish gardens, semi-roofed, attached to their houses. The party might adjourn to the garden before bedtime for a play or music, or other entertainment.

So I'd recommend this course to you; you will ever after have a picture of old Rome in your mind---of arches, monuments, streets, temples, baths, aqueducts, the Forum, and the life there two centuries ago...in perhaps the most famous civilization of antiquity.

(AQUEDUCTS: Writers note--I hate to admit it, and you will laugh...but I thought those aqueduct things went across the country for miles and miles--above the ground. Not so. Aqueducts were mostly underground. It's when they cross a valley or ravine or low-lying terrain that they must use the
"bridge thing" above ground to keep the water flow level, though it is always inclined every so slightly, so as to keep the water flowing. This whole system was an incredible feat in Roman engineering. A whole study would be to find out where they gained all their expertise in many areas of knowledge.)

By Mil, 1-19-12



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"OUR SUPPER CHICKENED OUT!"

There is an old joke, which goes like this:  Who is the only surviving Japanese Kamikaze pilot? 
Answer:  Chicken Teryaki.  (He "chickened out".)

I have another story for you about one who "chickened out".  In this case it was the chicken himself.

This story is about a young, newly-married couple, living on an Oklahoma cotton farm, circa 1936, during the "Great Depression".  These folks were family members, but to protect the innocent, we'll call them Mattie and Ed.

Now in the thirties, times were hard for everyone;  putting three meals a day on the table was a problem for everyone, especially hard-laboring farmers.  Fried chicken dinners were usually reserved for Sundays or other special occasions.  These birds were handy and relatively economical to have around -- you could buy 25 baby chicks from Montgomery Ward for $1.90, then put them in a brooder for safety and warmth and when they grew up you could have "layers" and sell the eggs, or have "fryers" to eat.

Thus, with the stage set, I will proceed with the story, with a reminder that this event took place around 75 years ago and has been retold over and over.  I will attempt to use writer's discretion or poetic license to fill in any gray areas.

So on this 1936 cotton farm, Ed was out in the field hoeing or doing whatever cotton farmers. do.  Mattie began to make plans for supper, thinking about it and wanting to do something special and at the same time "prove her mettle" as a new farm wife.  She happened to spot their large flock of chickens running loose around the farm buildings, grazing and having a "puck, puck, puck" good time.  An idea popped into her head!   FRIED CHICKEN!!! YES!!!   Her candidate for supper was a healthy, plump, energetic young bird.

Now, being a farm girl, Mattie could cut up a chicken and she could fry.  There was only one small problem;  a lot of farm girls were not fond of dispatching them, especially by the methods the men used (which we'll skip for this narrative).  So what to do?  Aha, to do this thing and impress my new husband, though I'm no Sergeant York, I think I can get the old "twenty-two", find some bullets somewhere, and plug that sucker in the head, so as not to mess up the meat anywhere.  (Just about all farms had an old .22 rifle sitting in the corner, often a single-shot, which was kept for two-legged and four-legged varmints, and for hog-killin' time.)   This method of elimination would be best and least painful for both Mattie and the chicken.

So she got the rifle out of the corner in the bedroom, went to the standard place where all old farms kept their "reserve ammo" (five or six rounds in depression times) --gathered up all the bullets she could find in the ash tray filled with straight pins, safety pins, buttons, and needles.  Carrying the lint-covered bullets, she headed out on her mission.

She went after that chicken through the whole flock of squawking , fluttering birds;  she chased him all over the farm.  There he is in the pig pen!  BANG!  There he is over there- in the cow pen!  BANG!  Oh, how did he get into the windbreak?  BANG!  I got him now--there in the woodpile...easy....BANG!  There he goes...our supper...down the cotton row--I got you now!  BANG!

He's gone, but there are others,  BUT...I'm out of bullets.  Must tell Ed to get a new box. 

There was no fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy that night on that depression cotton farm to greet the tired farmer returning to his new wife.  But on his return, Mattie hugged Ed and said:  "Well, the supper I had planned ---chickened out, but we've got something better--your favorite."  And Mattie led him to a table filled with a big bowl of juicy red pinto beans, crispy corn bread muffins, a jar of chow-chow, and...oh yes, some collard greens out of the garden! 

Ed hugged Mattie, and said:  "It's okay, this'll be JUST FINE". 

"WE DON'T DO THAT KIND OF STUFF!"

Here is a fun story for you. Stay with me...

Now my wife is not only very attractive, but is very intelligent. We love words, ideas, concepts,
information, books, computers (now that I have Henry, my I Pad), and The Great Courses, taught by leading U.S. university PHDs.

Along with this, we also have a great deal of fun-- jokes, words, puns, old funny TV shows, etc. Fun is very important to health and happiness.

Thus one day a number of years ago, I being a writer (please don't LOL), got to studying the variety of different words one could substitute for "walked" in the sentence: "She walked into the room." This substituting, of course, holds true with any verb.  So we came up with this list for "she WALKED..."
strode, sauntered, traipsed, moseyed, flounced, sashayed, edged, tip-toed, swished, swirled,
pranced, strutted, stalked, swaggered, pussy-footed, swept, crashed, bound, danced, sidled, crept, and slid....

Now here's where the real fun began. While reading the list over, I said: "Why don't I read the list of words one at a time and you enter the room and demonstrate each word as I call it out?" Reluctantly, but since no one else was around (and I suspect it was a challenge to her thespian proclivities), she agreed. So I called each word out, and she entered the room very cleverly and expertly capturing the nuance of each word-- no mean feat-- but before we finished the list, we were both on the floor laughing--literally. Try it and you'll see!

It gets funnier yet. I had an esteemed high school friend down in Texas, with whom I kept in regular contact. This couple was perhaps a little more suave and dignified than we, but nonetheless I sent him the word list and told him to do "what we done."

In a day or two I received an E mail back from him, and not an unkind one, but one merely
stating their position: "We don't do that kind of stuff.".

By Mil, 1-02-12
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