POETICALLY SPEAKING....

"BREAK, BREAK, BREAK"

by Alfred Lord Tennyson

"Break, break, break
On thy cold gray stones, O Sea!
And I would that my tongue could utter
The thoughts that arise in me.

O well for the fisherman's boy
That he shouts for his sister at play!
O well for the sailor lad,
That he sings in his boat on the bay!

And the stately ships go on
To their haven under the hill.
But O for the touch of a vanished hand,
And the sound of a voice that is still!

Break, break, break,
At the foot of thy crags, O Sea!
But the tender grace of a day that is dead
Will never come back to me."

This elegy, written by Tennyson with the loss of his dear friend Hallam ever in his mind, is thought by scholars to be one of the finest short poems of the 19th century.

William Henry Hallam was a young poet at Cambridge and engaged to Tennyson's sister. He took ill and died suddenly at age 22. This event haunted the poet for the rest of his life, and out of it came at least four major works: "Memoriam, A.H.H.", "The Praise of Arthur," "Ulysses,"
and "Tithonus."

Tennyson was a favorite of Queen Victoria and her husband Prince Albert, the prince having visited the poet several times. Upon Albert's death in 1853, the long poem, "Memoriam A.H.H.," which had been written for Arthur, gave the queen solace in her decades of grieving over her husband, the prince. It was this long memorial poem that gave Tennyson his reputation as one of the top poets of the 19th century. He was England's Poet Laureate for a good portion of the Victorian era.

Tennyson's poems, as well as his whole life, tended toward melancholy. In writing "Break, Break, Break," during a sad period of his life, he was visiting at a country estate by the seashore and observed, that even during his own sadness---others were going on with their lives: the "fisherman's boy,"and "his sister" were at play---the "sailor lad" is singing "in his boat on the bay," and "the stately ships go on to their haven under the hill..." This is all well and good, but it does not alleviate the deep vacancy and sorrow that exists in his heart---one that will never be filled again.

Alfred Lord Tennyson was born August 6, 1809 at Somersby, Lincolnshire, the fourth of twelve children. In 1827 he enrolled in Cambridge College, where he studied philosophy under a special tutor, William Whewell..

Tennyson began to be known, along with his brother, as a rising young poet, when they published Poems By Two Brothers, and won university prizes for poetry.

He joined "The Apostles," an undergraduate club, whose members remained Alfred's friends all his life. Arthur Hallam joined this group and became his closest friend, as noted above.

Other important and well-known Englishmen can be named among his colleagues and close friends, including Robert Browning, John Stuart Mills, Matthew Arnold, and William Gladstone, (who had a major influence on the poet.)

He became engaged to Emily Sellwood, but concerns about his mental health, and bad investments that ruined his financial status---caused him to break off the engagement. Finally, in 1842, his Poems was published and his fame increased. He was granted a government pension of £200 for life, enough to keep him going.

In researching Tennyson's position among "The Top Ten English Poets," we find that there are many such lists, and that he appears high on most of them.

PSA 45 Publications gives us an excellent evaluation: "What established Tennyson as a poet of the first order was his melancholy, self-searching, and mystery-probing, 'In Memoriam A.H.H.' Lyrically beautiful, honestly grappling with the real questions and enigmas of life---at times incisive. It deserves a ranking as one of the outstanding long poems in English."

I liked Amazon's review: "Although Tennyson (1809-1892) has often been characterized as an austere, bearded patriarch, and laureate of the Victorian Age, his poems speak clearly to the imagination of the late 20th century. His mastery of rhyme, metre, imagery, and word communicate their dark, sensuous, and sometimes morbid messages. Much given to melancholy, and feelings of aching desolation, Tennyson's verse also carries clear messages of hope---'Ring out the old, ring in the new!' and  'Tis better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all!' "---Amazon

It is said that Tennyson excelled at short lyrics. Here are some favorites for you to look up and enjoy:

"The Charge of the Light Brigade"
"Tears, Idle Tears"
"In the Valley of Cauteretz"
"Crossing the Bar"

*******30******
BY MIL
4/29/13

Sent from my iPad

THE LAST OF ITS BREED

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A BRAND NEW, SHINY, UNCIRCULATED SILVER 1947 WALKING LIBERTY HALF DOLLAR!  IT'S A MIRACLE!
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If you have read my post of August 12, 2012, titled "AMERICA'S GREATEST COIN", you will understand why I am excited about what I'm about to tell you.  It is good that we who love America, and have experienced its blessings for so many decades, now and then take a walk back through the years, and down Memory Lane.

Here's what happend:  an old Clovis friend of mine, of many years, recently met me at one of those coffee places where coffee is more expensive than gasoline.  We were sitting there, chit-chatting and Ed (we'll call him), who is known to save a few old Indian Head pennies now and then, but is certainly no heavy-duty coin collector, pulled a little felt bag out of his pocket, and right there on the table, by our smoking coffee cups, dumped a plastic-wrapped coin, sealed tight to protect it from the elements!

My friends, I nearly had an event!  There was the most beautiful coin I had ever seen!  It was a brand new uncirculated 1947 United States Walking Liberty, real silver Half Dollar!  I had seen, earned, handled, and spent many of them, in my younger days...but I had NEVER SEEN a brand new one!

Suddenly that coin took me back across the years to our beloved hometown, Clovis...to boyhood times, when we tried to rustle up some job, somewhere, anywhere....and maybe earn one of those.  A half dollar was a half dollar in those days!

I was looking at THE LAST OF ITS BREED.  After 1947 it was discontinued, reportedly due to "minting problems."  It may have been discontinued officially, but it was never discontinued in our hearts.

There it was, lying there between our smoking coffee cups, as if someone had planned an artistic display!  And you want to know what hit home----it was the words, plain as day, right there on the front:  "IN GOD WE TRUST."  Some clever politician hadn't relegated the Creator to the EDGE of this coin, as in the recent (now defunct) presidential set.

This coin, designed by Adolph A. Weinman and issued in 1916, endured through the end of WWI, The Roaring Twenties, The Great Depression, WWII and the beginning of The Cold War in 1947, the final year of its minting.  It remained in circulation and was followed by the Franklin and Kennedy halves.  In the early sixties, silver coins, including dimes and quarters (and halves) were replaced by lesser metals.  The Kennedy half was reduced from 90% to 40% silver, and finally discontinued, in that format, in 1970.

The half dollar was one of the most useful and popular coins ever issued---particularly in the first half of the Twentieth Century.  It was used extensively in casinos and gambling venues.  With the deletion of silver from the half dollar, the availability waned in the closing decades of the Twentieth Century.  The reason is somewhat unclear, but it may be that folks kept collecting the bigger coins faster than they could be produced, although there was no intrinsic value, such as silver, in them.  Now quarters are the main coins in commerce.

In the forties, a "fifty-cent piece", as they were commonly called, would buy a little boy ten twelve-ounce Pepsi Colas, ten packages of Walnettos, a big sack of marbles, a couple of spinning tops, comic books, movies, popcorn, candy, Cracker Jacks, or a twenty-cent ham salad sandwich at Woolworth's, with change left!  Enough to head for Coney Island Cafe and a hot dog for dessert!

So...this 1947 coin, lying there on the table, in front of Ed and me---was truly the last of its kind--its breed.  This one was never issued.  Its efficacy in the world turned out to be:  "merely exist, look nice and shiny, and grow in value."  It has done all these things, particularly the appreciation-in-value part---this coin cost Ed one hundred dollars.  (It also missed all the vicissitudes of life!)

Ed and I sat there, and talked about his fascinating coin, and as old-timers often do, we began trying to remember what happened in old Clovis, sixty-six years ago.  We had a great talk, and when he left, he carefully packed away his treasure into his pocket...a lot of memories there!

So many, in fact, that when I got home, I took my ipad up to my attic study and did some searching to find out what was going on in 1947---the final year of the Walking Liberty Half Dollar.  Here's what I found out:

In 1947:
---The average income per year in the USA was $2,850.
---A new house might cost $6,600.
---A new Ford four-door sedan cost $1,248.
---Gasoline was 15 cents a gallon.
---Bread was 12 cents a loaf.
---A pack of cigarettes was 20 cents.
---Milk was 24 cents a quart.
---Home freezers and backyard cookers were gaining in popularity.
---Everyone loved the new frozen orange juice concentrate.

In 1947:
---We were just beginning to pay off our WWII debt, which, counting lend-lease and everything, came to circa $288 billion.


In 1947, big news in the US:
---the famous Roswell UFO crash
---Jackie Robinson broke into major league baseball.
---The National Security Act established the CIA, NSA, and a separate United States Air Force branch of service.

In 1947, in the heavens:
---The largest group of sunspots ever seen were reported around the world.

In 1947, on Broadway:
---"A Streetcar Named Desire"
---"A Young Man's Fancy"

In 1947, in Hollywood:
---"Miracle on 34th Street" was popular!
---"Gentleman's Agreement", starring Gregory Peck and Dorothy McGuire, was the Academy Award winner for the best picture of the year!

In 1947, favorite songs from the hit parade:
---"Heartaches", Ted Weems and his orchestra
---"Near You"
---"Chi Baba, Chi Baba", Perry Como
---"Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah," Johnny Mercer
---"Bongo, Bongo, Bongo," Danny Kaye

In 1947, in Ranchvale, NM,
---Mil was learning to drive---out on the farm---anything that had wheels---car, tractor and wheat truck.
---He was riding combines during wheat harvest...often until midnight, helping all the farmers get their wheat to the elevator out West of town.

In 1947, in Clovis:
---The future CHS class of '53 was just now reaching Junior High.
---The future CHS Class of '51 was in the ninth grade.  Levi was driving now and thrilling everyone with his skills.
---Students did the "Mexican Hat Dance" in Miss MacFarland's Spanish musical.
---The '49ers---the CHS class of '49, were already juniors in high school!

It certainly has been fun chit-chatting with you about my favorite coin, and some slices of our history, which it helps to recall.  Sometime, when you are headed over this way, bring a Walking Liberty Half Dollar with you and we'll go down to that coffee place and talk about it.  It doesn't matter what date it has on it---any and all of them are reminders of the days of our lives and the life of our country.

****30****
BY MIL
4/23/13



-

"THE HOT DOG CAPITAL OF THE WORLD"

SIGN IN MIL'S ATTIC:
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"HOT DOGS ARE A GREAT SOURCE OF HIGH QUALITY PROTEIN."
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It is a cold April day, the wind is blowing, as it always is here in N.M. in  the middle of April--and it is supposed to freeze tonight! I've got a small fire going in my little efficient woodstove and am sitting here in my attic, pondering deep thoughts, which is what attics are for, isn't it?

I even dug out my fadedest Carhartt blue denim shirt---soft and warm---there's nothing like it on a day like this, for attic reading and musing.

You see, what I am thinking about is: HOT DOGS. Yes! What is puzzling me is---why don't women like them? The more I think about this whole thing...the more puzzled and hungrier I get!

My thoughts started with those delightful coffee mugs over there on my workbench---there by my old chrome coffee pot, with the spigot. I got to looking at those mugs and thinking about our friends (now passed on), who bought them for us. There must be eight or ten cool mugs there. (I drink from a different one every time I'm up here!) 

The short of it is that, after nearly fifty years of marriage, we were down to our last official cup from our early marriage set: "TICKLED PINK." Oh yes, we had others but I wanted some heavy-duty well-insulated man-style cups. Accordingly I asked our friends, "As you go around the country in your many vast travels, if you will pick me up some real mean mugs, I'll pay you!"

Did the mugs ever pour in---from Arizona (is there a "London Bridge" out there?)--- from Boston, from the Alamo, from a rock bridge in Colorado, and from New Castle, Pennsylvania, my friends' hometown, and their favorite spot on earth. For you see, and hereby hangs a tale---New Castle is TA-DUM: "THE HOT DOG CAPITAL OF THE WORLD!" Now you see why I think of hot dogs up here in my attic...it's those New Castle mugs over there!

Now, as a bonus for you, and while I've got you reeling from that info, here's the "two punch" (that goes with the "old one-two): New Castle is also called: "THE FIREWORKS CAPITAL OF THE USA." My readers, I know you are thinking: "What a place to go for the Fourth of July!"

My N.C. friend, who when there, stuffs in as many hot dogs at a time as he can handle, He indicated that this popularity of "dogs" in New Castle began in the early part of the twentieth century and came from the skills and expertise of the Greek immigrants who settled the area. They were excellent sausage-makers, and chili sauce specialists as well!

When you get to studying and delving into this New Castle "sauce miracle," and see that the whole state of Pennsylvania loves and makes the "dogs" too, it is almost like New Castle leaked its famous sauce into the ground for miles around, and out of the ground sprouted a state of hot dog lovers!

The Nittany Lions even have their own official hot dogs, made by BERK'S.  A couple of cleverly-named "dog" restaurants are: "John's Doggie Shop," and "The Dog House."

In perusing a lengthy list of Pennsylvania hot dog restaurants, and their condiment menus, we find that most of them have similar ingredients as hot dogs made anywhere---things  like onions, mustard, pickle relish, mayo, catsup, cheese, and sauerkraut. The secret with all these places is IN THE SAUCE. The sauces vary considerably and the ingredients are secret.

My N.M. friend, from New Castle, once brought us two bottles of New Castle's  Famous Hot Dog Sauce. To embellish this story with humor and to impress on you the importance he attached to this sauce, here is how it might have gone down:

A Brinks Armored Services van pulls up to the front of my house. My friend from N.C. alights---he has returned from his trip to PA. He, escorted by a guard, hurries to my front door, slips in, comes into the kitchen, and lays an aluminum briefcase on the kitchen table. He unlocks it, opens it, and there, resting beautifully and colorfully in foam cut-outs, side-by-side, are two bottles of hot dog sauce, bright red. Gently and carefully he picks one up, and with great pride, holds it up, so I can see it in all its glory!

It happened sort like that, we'll say. And it was good sauce for the "dogs," if people just wouldn't take nips, and drink it all up!

Well, the "HONOR ROLL OF HOT DOGS" would likely fill several pages, with places all over America listed. Included right at the top for most of us would be Coney Island Cafe, 214 Main Street, Clovis, New Mexico. Nathan's, of Brooklyn, New York, is one of the most famous of all. As I have said, there are dozens!

I like my own hot dogs and you would too! In circa 1970, I obtained the chili recipe from a famous chili-maker at the New Mexico State Fair. Over the years, I tweaked it and improved it and made it several times a year, mostly in cold weather. It is not a small amount. I don't fool around with little dabs of chili. It starts with 3 1/2 pounds of lean beef and sometimes 1/2 pound of pork. Well, I won't bore you with all the details...(and my chili is not only for hot dogs, but also Frito pie, burritos, flat corn enchiladas, juevos rancheros, or just eating a plain old bowl of chili with a corn bread muffin!)

          
But knowing that no hot dog bun holds very much stuff, I make mine flat with one open bun, or 1 1/2 if really hungry. Two long Oscar Meyer beef wieners, deli style. Generous mustard. Chopped onions. Cover the whole thing with semi-liquid chili con carne, with beans. Eat with knife and fork, and maybe spoon. Sometimes I split the two wieners. I don't like DRY chili.

GENTLEMEN! START YOUR APPETITES! Get your plates! You are now eating at MIL'S house---"THE HOT DOG CAPITAL OF THE WORLD!!

********30********
BY MIL
4/17/13

CLOVIS: MAGIC STEAM LAUNDRY (PART TWO)

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THE WORLD WAR TWO YEARS

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September 1, 1939 came in world history and two cataclysmic events occurred: the Nazis, on some flimsy pretext, invaded Poland and started WWII; and little five year old Mil started to school, a year early, at Clovis La Casita School, Seventh and Thornton.

World events were moving. Franklin Delano Roosevelt, though the mood of the country was heavily weighted toward isolationism, in his farsighted wisdom, could see that there was no long-range way out for the U.S. to avoid war. Thus he covertly boarded the heavy cruiser USS Augusta, and headed out for a rendezvous with Winstron Churchill at Placentia Bay, Newfoundland, to discuss the dire world situation. This meeting occurred August 9-12, 1941.

The American ship was sitting at anchor in the bay when Churchill sailed in on HMS Prince of Wales, a new British battleship, only recently completed and delivered on March 31, 1941. Sunday morning found FDR transferring with some difficulty, due to his polio, over to the Prince of Wales for Sunday worship, and asking the blessings of Almighty God on the endeavors of the Allied cause.

                                               HMS Prince of Wales

The total complement of the Wales---all the sailors who could be were on deck, some sitting on fourteen inch big guns---and singing  heartily,  serious hymns for serious times---hymns in fact selected by Churchill himself: "Onward, Christian Soldiers," "O God, Our Help In Ages Past," and (the U.S. "Navy Hymn") "Eternal Father, Strong To Save."

Out of this conference, called "The Atlantic Charter," came a number of important decisions, notably, "the Nazis go down first," in case the Japanese get involved.

Ironically, events sped up. the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941; Germany declared war on the U.S. December 8, 1941; the Prince of Wales, which had heard wafting across its deck at Placentia Bay, "Oh hear us when we cry to Thee, for those in peril on the sea," was sunk off the Malay Coast near Singapore, by Japanese planes, on December 11, 1941.

For the first half of 1942, times looked rather bleak for the Allies, who were caught behind in war preparation.

In our hometown of Clovis, military personnel (railroad troops) soon were arriving at Camp Reed, south of town, and airmen at the new Clovis Army Air Base, five miles west of town.

Dozens of Clovis businesses---like Jim's Barber Shop, Gateway Auto, Clovis Tailors, Whatley's Second Hand, Jack Holt, O.K. Rubber Welders, Barry Hardware, Coney Island, and Westward Ho, along with the Magic Steam Laundry, set in to do their part in the war effort.

It seemed like just about everything was scarce or rationed, or both, including gasoline, tires, meat, coffee, sugar, shoes, some clothes...and on. Patriotic movies were shown early in the war, such as: "Back to Bataan," "Bombardier," and "The Fighting Sullivans."

Mil began his education at La Casita School, walking from the laundry at 415 W. Grand, west on Grand, past Tom Phelp's neat little "Red-and-White Store," by Ms. Crook's Beauty Shop, on down to Thornton,  turning north at the Blaylock Grocery, then proceeding north past "The Little White Church On the Corner," (Ned Biddix's father's church,) past the haunted house and on to school.

Down at the laundry, Dad rented the one-story building abutting the laundry to the west; this did two things; he needed the space occupied by Johnny's Motorcycle Shop, and this improved my little boy vocabulary considerably, for I was wont, in my spare time (that is---all my time before becoming a school kid,) to pick up some very interesting, but strange,words, most of which I didn't know the meanings, as I lingered on the periphery of that raucous shop.

Dad was overwhelmed with the amount of laundry coming in, from the regular Clovis trade, which included, besides private citizens' dirty clothes--- hospitals, motels, hotels, cafes, barber shops---and now the military. It was a good thing we had Johnny's Shop's space---it was filled with bundles of dirty clothes by noon on Monday...and a sign went up: "NO MORE LAUNDRY ACCEPTED THIS WEEK."

Before the clothes could be washed, they had to be sorted or "checked in." Each bundle had to be opened and separated piece by piece---according to color, fabric, and fading potential. Thirty or forty bundles had to be gone through, each afternoon late, for tomorrow's run.

The next morning brought washing, spinning the water out, opening nets of damp clothes and shaking out the sheets for the mangle and the pants and shirts for the pressers. Then came the pressing and ironing, folding, pigeon-holing the pieces, and the final  wrap-up of the person's clean clothes.

Dad wore khakis and rubber boots, and was 50% wet by noon; when the washing was completed, he daily put on a set of dry khakis. The wet bundles that he handled likely weighed 75 pounds. This was---day after day---for seven years. He had one day off---in seven years. No one could be trusted to run the boiler. The one time he was off, for an emergency, Dad joked that "E." nearly blew up SW Clovis, with his limited boiler acumen.

As early as my days in the fourth grade, I went straight to the laundry from school and helped him do the "check-in" for tomorrow's run. My job was to net all the sheets, pillow cases, and other white stuff in a big, heavy, porous net, as he threw this stuff on the floor. I then gathered the top and pinned this sack with a heavy numbered pin. This required considerable bending over---no prob for a little kid!

Those were times of good togetherness with Dad and me.   At about 4 p.m., the day began to wind down---the women workers were through and going home; it got really quiet and peaceful there in the laundry, and the smells of starched, pressed clothes--smells of cleanliness, health, and well-being just permeated the air. Sometimes it smelled as if the whole laundry had been ironed!

We got down to serious "checking in"---getting the run for tomorrow ready to go- so we could go home--- and listen to "Fibber McGee and Molly" at 7:30 p.m. But, ah, my readers, are you ready for this? At four p.m. on KICA were four fifteen-minute "little boy programs"---"TOM MIX," "THE SHADOW KNOWS," "SUPERMAN," and "THE 'LONG' RANGER." We worked and listened right there at the laundry.  In fact, I was able to get my "TOM MIX SECRET WHISTLE SIGNAL RING," for 25 cents and two Ralston cereal box tops. When they signaled me on the show, I answered back with my ring.

As I got into the fifth and sixth grades, I arrived at the laundry as early as I could from school--I had a bike by then--and began the "check in" process by myself, so we could go home earlier. On Saturdays I'd go early and have the Monday run mostly finished by 12:30 p.m. and headed down to the Lyceum in time to sing along with their only musical selection, "Elmer’s Tune." (Later they got "Twilight Time.")

I'd had a hard week and was now set for a serial ("The Perils of Nyoka"), a western and a murder mystery. My fifty-cent Walking Liberty---a silver half dollar--- would buy me a ten cent movie ticket, a ten cent sack of popcorn, a five cent coke, and after the movie--- a twenty cent ham salad sandwich at Woolworth's, and a five cent coke. Check it out---$20.00 worth today. (And if you want to carry a "good luck" Walking Liberty, made of real silver, one will run you $38.00 to $50.00 today.)

Not knowing any better, I called the serial "The Pearls of Nyoka." Google it for fun.

Those were tragic times, in a war that cost the U.S.A. 913,000 casualties, and the world an estimated 70 million dead. One day in December, 1944, at the laundry, a family member came in and walked straight to Ms. E. folding clothes over at the mangle. He handed her a telegram which she grasped and hurriedly read---then collapsed into the arms of co-workers. The mangle was stopped and the laundry came to a halt...Her son was wounded in the Ardennes... in a battle that would be called "The Battle of The Bulge." She was off work for two days. Her son eventually came home with a steel plate in his head.

One day, about mid-April, 1945, when school was out, I got on my bicycle and went straight down to Barry Hardware to get a bolt for my bicycle basket. The people in there were all gathered around the radio. It was a somber group. Someone whispered to me: "President Roosevelt died." This shook me up. He was the only president I had ever known.

I hurriedly got on my bicycle and rode down Grand to the laundry. The women workers were winding up and Dad was wrapping bundles of clothes. The radio was not on yet. I parked my bike in Johnny's Motorcycle Shop and went in and said to Dad (barely able to control my sixth grade emotions) "Dad, President Roosevelt is dead."

Who will ever forget the black accordionist playing Dvorak's "Goin' Home" there by FDR's train? I will always feel that Roosevelt was a casualty of World War II, just as much as a soldier.  He could've gone to Campobello and relaxed his last years. In spite of his fiscal policies, which have been endlessly debated, I personally consider him to be in the list of Top Five Presidents. There is no guarantee that anyone else could've pulled it off---that is---VICTORY.

                                                        "Going Home"

Victory in Europe was to come in early May, and Victory in Japan was to be announced around mid-August. You have read my stories of how I came out of the Lyceum Theater one Saturday about mid-afternoon and a KICA van was sitting in the middle of the intersection at Fourth and Main---I stood there by Barry Hardware's corner--I can mark the spot with chalk even today---and heard the speaker in the van say: "The Japanese have surrendered."

Oh, how many of the "finest American generation" paid the ultimate price for the ambitions of Hitler and the Japanese. Still today, we weep for their memory. And there was something SO AMERICAN about the USA in those days.

It happened coincidentally, but with the surrender of the Japanese, our days at our old beloved laundry were o'er. The sale which had been in the works (without my knowing it) was completed sometime around the third week in August---to a fine Clovis family---the Stebbins, who would within several years move the Magic Steam Laundry over to West Seventh Street on a nice corner lot...and maintain the quality which the laundry had always produced.

We soon were on the road to Tres Ritos and my dad's newly-adopted hobby---fly fishing for trout. The British would soon oust Churchill and I would learn about it (but never understand it) when I took Current Events in the seventh grade.

From the clean-starchy-pressed smells of the old laundry, I was headed to the farm and would soon have the dust of a tractor assailing my nostrils, and the pollen of a wheat truck making me sneeze! I would come to LOVE windmills. Dad had bought a farm!

Several weeks ago, an email came to me. It was from "ANONYMOUS," and simply stated: "Your post---The Magic Steam Laundry"---"BEAUTIFUL...ENLIGHTENING." I had written this post almost a year ago, May of 2012, and had always planned to do a part two.

I read "STORY ONE" over---enjoying going back to 1938 again and remembering the bath in the washing machine that first nigh--- the bacon and onions and red-eye gravy Mother cooked on that hot plate, hooked to the gas jet near washer # 1. Reading my story, I suffered my blistered feet all over again, remembered that strange smooth, slick white stucco on the outside of the laundry, heard the marvelous train sounds three blocks south at the railroad again, saw the sandstorms barreling down Grand toward Main St., and of course--the smell of the finished laundry again....I said to myself---it's time for the "war years".

Most folk who lived then were affected and had those years etched on their minds and hearts. You can't tell one story without telling the war story.

I always liked the final words in one of Clint Eastwood's westerns, "The Outlaw Josie Wales."  Wounded Clint and his pursuer are calling a truce, and referring to the Civil War, Eastwood says: "I guess we all died a little in that damn war."

"Going Home", Georgia Boy Choir

                          www.youtube.com/watch?v=W19CU3zwxkM

                        

Mil's Place
4-13-13

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ONE COLD, LONELY, AND SNOWY NIGHT

Saga of a Strange Trek

by Wylie Dougherty, Guest Writer

Just a week before Christmas, on December 18, 1964, a Friday night, in my 4^th month of the new job as Field Rep for the NM Credit Union League, I was to drive from Alamogordo back home to Albuquerque.  It started to snow and snow and snow some more. 

Up US 54 to Carrizozo and headed West on US 380 across the badlands toward the Rio Grande and Socorro, I found one set of tracks in the deepening snow, so I followed them.  I was very glad that the tracks didn't run off into one of the many canyons along the way, as I am sure I would have followed them right into a canyon, those tracks were the only guide I had.  You've all had that urge, just like an old horse headed back to the barn, I had to get home.

Well, the tracks finally got me to US 85 (before the days of Interstate 25) and I gladly turned North.  As I came up over this hill, an 18 wheeler with Christmas lights lit up all over the back-end was stopped in my lane.  Panic—I jammed on the brakes on this old 60 Ford 4 door, and the lights and semi were gone!!  My eyes couldn't believe what I thought I saw, it was gone, I was hallucinating from being hypnotized by the tracks in the snow coming from Carrizozo.

Well, when I got into Socorro, I called a friend and shooting buddy, who was Captain of our NM National Guard Rifle team, asked him for a cup of coffee, told him my strange story of the ghost truck, spent some time decompressing, then hit the road to Albuquerque.  The rest of the trip was memorable only because when I got to Belen, the roads were iced and near impassable.  But being the old horse headed for the barn, I put my right wheels off the road, crunching ice and snow, not many cars out in this nasty weather.  Got home about midnight and sat there wall-eyed for a couple of hours before I could sleep.  The reason I remember the date is it's my youngest Sister's birthday, just a week before Christmas.

Since both the CU League and our family were poor, I couldn't really afford an overnight stay along the way. God Bless both our ignorance and good luck.

Wylie Dougherty, CHS Class of '53

4-9-13

for Mil's Place

 

GOODBYE, WINTER!!

*********************************
I said to my editor at coffee today, "I'm doing a poem titled "Goodbye, Winter." What are some things that we will say goodbye to when winter is over?" After pondering this for a minute, she answered: "COLDS?"  "BRILLIANT," I said.
*********************************

Goodbye, Winter---
Goodbye to---
Frosty mornings, icicles on the eaves,
Scraping icy windshields, dead batteries,
Slick sidewalks and streets,
Sliding into curbs;
Snow days at school, kids making
Snow angels in your driveway--
(Watch our for 'em!)

Goodbye, Winter---
Goodbye to---
Unfriendly cold winter skies...
The ones with the streaky clouds,
A thousand miles high;
Windy winter northers, hitting
About bedtime, winds fifty MPH---
(I kinda like those!)
Vanishing firewood stacks.

"So Long," Winter---
So long to---
Cold nights, cold feet, cold noses...
Roaring fireplaces, fur houseshoes,
Soft fleece robes, quilt throws for sitting,
Old "Jones" hunting caps (I wear mine...
In the den.)

"So Long," Winter---
So long to---
Homey colorful quilts (I'll miss mine!)
Hot mugs of tomato or cream of chicken soup!
Hot, bubbling stews. like green chili,
Vegetable, cabbage/beef, posole,
Or chili con carne.
(With Wylie's mother's spoonbread,
Of course.)

Goodbye, Winter---
Goodbye to---
Games: Scrabble, Monopoly, Trivial Pursuit---
Puzzles there on the card table, in the corner...
Old John Wayne taped movies,
Fireside charades
"Miracle at Philadelphia", third reading.

Goodbye, Winter---
Goodbye to---
Skis and snowshoes, already
Hanging on cabin walls...
Kids riding sleds and inner tubes
Down snowy mountainsides!
Those who fish through holes in the ice,
On lakes---for trout.
Stocking lakes and ponds with
Rainbow trout---is almost done.

HELLO, SPRING!

The crocuses, tulips, and daffodils
Are beginning to peek out
In the flower beds!
The lawns are beginning to green.
Those wonderful fresh spring winds
Are replacing winter's cold icy ones.

The sun is getting higher in the sky,
With every passing day, and
The days are getting longer and
The nights are not freezing anymore,
Much, anyway!

People are talking about planting tomatoes---
Though it's too early for me. Real tomato growers
Know that tomatoes need the warm sun of summer.

Women are beginning to get out their spring duds
And store winter's. They can be seen daily...
At Chico's! Their UGGS are already sitting in storage.
They are getting pedicures and putting on
Their sandals!

Spring flowers are being planted in flower pots
And flower beds...those that can endure a hard freeze
If one comes. We see pansies, et al
All around. Roses are being pruned and fertilized
And will soon be blooming, as well as our
Honeysuckles---which usually appear late May.

Oh yes, we will rue the loss of wintertime---
We will rue the absence of these cool,
Almost cold, spring winds on those hot
July and August nights---when sleeping is...
Difficult!

But for now, the Voice of the Turtle
Will be heard in our land soon---
It's almost time---for the mulberry trees are
Just beginning to bloom, and just now showing
On those awful pollen charts!

Soon the parks will be busy with Little League baseball,
Soccer; kids will be skate boarding, riding
Their bicycles, and all manner of fun things!
There will be church picnics, with softball and
Croquet; dogs will be chasing frisbees...
There will be families out there too
With plenty of good summer food, like...

Fried chicken, fried okra, potato salad
Baked beans, deviled eggs, corn bread,
Cantaloupes, watermelons, homemade ice cream,
Hamburgers, hot dogs, cakes and pies!
Cold drinks on ice---galore, including iced tea!

All in all, I guess my favorite season is AUTUMN!
I almost wish it were "just around the corner!"
When it comes, after old hot August, I'll be ready!

In autumn, I like to climb up the stairs, into my attic!
A lot of my favorite books are up there,
As well as the GI surplus bed, covered and cushioned
With quilts. A colorful spot for reading, writing, or a nap!
It is quiet and still up there, with that double-insulated window,
Which lets  in---great light! What is there about attic light!!!

A couple of little logs in that attic woodstove
On a cold fall afternoon, is all you need. You could
Heat the whole house with that stove, I sometimes think!
If a norther is-a-comin'-up, that's even better,
And cozier!
Then you open the attic window about a half inch
And get that pricelss lonesome moan of the wind
Whipping around the corner of the house...
And that dratted old mulberry tree branch that bangs
The house in rhythm!

Coziness is what autumns and winters are all about!

Ah, but in dreading hot August, I'm getting ahead
Of myself!

So goodbye again to Winter, gone
For another year.
It'll be awhile before we see you again
But we'll be ready!

The Creator was wise in making the seasons.
Contrast and variety are the spices of life!

Just remember, we are barely out of March---
And as Yogi Berra would have said, if he'd
Thought of it:
"WINTER AIN'T OVER, 'TIL IT'S OVER!"

*******30*******
BY MIL
APRIL 9, 2013





Sent from my iPad

"I WANT ONE OF THOSE"

***********************************************************************
DID THAT VOICE AND THOSE WORDS COME OUT OF ME?
***********************************************************************

 ***********************************************************************

MIL'S PLACE: SECOND ANNIVERSARY, 3/31/13----207 POSTS

  **********************************************************************

it was Christmas Eve, 2010, and the family was seated in a big circle around the den, a good fire was going in the fireplace, and we were opening packages---you know---doing the one-package-at-a-time thing. My daughter-in-law had just opened an interesting box....containing an iPad!

Why, I'd never even heard of an...iPad...that I could remember. They were putting it in a nice-looking tan leather case, and passing it around for all the computer gurus in the room to handle and admire.

When it got to me, I looked at it---like a calf looking at a new gate---and out of courtesy (you see, I hated computers---in career number two---I had an early one and we didn't get along) I sort of hefted it and said to my son---"Er, what I'd like to do...for example---is see if Cabella's--- has any  blah-blahs."  He took that thing, and touch, touch, touch ---Voila---there were my blah-blahs. Right there on rhe screen, with ordering info and all.

Maybe it was intended that I should have an iPad...I don't know. I can vaguely remember a voice saying: "I want one of those!" (Mil---a computer? Did that voice come out of me?)

That was how I got "HENRY," my iPAD. I've never made a more worthwhile investment. The next day, December 26, 2011, my son and my wife braved the crowds down at the Apple Store, and by noon, here they came into the house with "Henry." My leather case, which holds Henry, and which I treasure, is black.

Why didn't someone tell me: you can find out anything in the world with a computer (if you can operate it!)

On March 31, 2011, my editor/wife and I put the first post, "The Tree Of Freedom" on the new "MIL'S PLACE." I had done a lot of writing in various capacities in my careers, and my wonderful wife said one day: "You need to be writing. I'll edit it and post it for you." (A more beautiful, helpful, and better wife, no man ever had.)

So Henry and I began work. Sometimes we've been serious...now and then we get a bit funny. Hymns and church music were my first career, and I've tried to include plenty of those, with good listening music at the bottom. Two of the best choirs that have ever existed in the USA, are The Robert Shaw Chorale and The Mormon Tabernacle Choir. I like Southern Gospel and Bluegrass, among other kinds, and have written about these.

I like US history and have a big library of books from all the wars. I didn't read any book on the Viet Nam war until 1988, when a book came into my hands titled---"And A Hard Rain Fell." Since then I have read many dozen books about that war..and have mentioned it on MIL'S.

I took a course from the Great Courses titled "BUILDING GREATER SENTENCES," taught by Dr. Brooks Landon,  absolutely one of the most valuable courses ever. He has an  interesting chapter in his textbook on the subject of "rhythm in prose."

From that and other courses, I've tried my hand at "prose poetry." If one is inspired, it'll come spilling out onto the page. Some of my own personal favorite writings have been prose poems: "POP," "AUTUMN," "THE END OF SUMMER," "LAWNMOWER," "OUR WINDMILL AT THE OLD HOME PLACE IS GONE," "I LOVE OLD PICKUP TRUCKS," "WHAT DO YOU LOVE?" "MY STUFF IN THE ATTIC," and "MORE TALES FROM THE ATTIC,"

We're coming up on the two-year anniversary of MIL'S PLACE, and looks like there are going to be around 206 or so posts accomplished in the first two years. You don't see all the things I write. The stories are written long-hand on white 5X7 Staple's recycled legal pads. If  all my stories were in one stack, the unfinished ones would likely be  a foot and half tall.

There are some subjects I have made voluminous notes on (as they say), such as Barns, Stephen Foster, Sand, Deserts, Wind, Alleys, Trees, Doors, Contrasts, and Fried Chicken. These are jelling---some have more than thirty pages of notes. One day---one of them will fly.  Writing needs to be good!

I want to include the "BOOKSHELF" more often. You will remember that I mentioned two of our finest American writers in an earlier post---both still living and writing---Robert Caro and David Mc Cullough. Also there have been several "POETRY" posts.

The honor of the TWO HUNDREDTH post on MIL'S PLACE goes to Bobby Joe Snipes. This is altogether fitting since he is one of the first guest writers,  he has been a big encourager to this writer, he has introduced me to a number of really neat people from the CHS class of '53, and not the least, Bob has been a good friend for seventy-three years!

I want to try to mention all the guest writers, even those who had brief comments. Everyone enjoys Richard Drake, who often includes some clever humor in his stories. We'd be poorer without Robert Stebbin's well-done story about the marine recruits. Wylie Daugherty gave us his much-loved story about his mother, their ranch and barns on "The Frio," and his brother and our classmate Noel Daugherty's poem that we'll never forget.

Thanks also to Dr. Albin Covington, Art Snipes, Sue Hale,  John and Elizabeth Sieren, Judy Hughes, and Lisa J. for stories and comments. Ned Biddix (noted Florida coach)--- is a big MIL'S PLACE supporter. Remember him--the fifth grade athlete from La Casita, and "THE  LITTLE WHITE CHURCH ON THE CORNER."

Thanks especially to my dear high school friend, Levi Brake, for his helpful comments and encouragement! He's been there, from day one, ever-faithful.! And much appreciated!

      

Thanks goes to Dr. Gene Walker for taking time to send important background information on "Clovis." Also greatly appreciated has been musician and scholar, Harold VanWinkle; always reading every post and here for suggestions and encouragement!

Little rewards come in re MIL'S. Sometimes they come from Germany...or the Phillippines...or somewhere. Sometimes, they join as a "follower." I wish they'd make it easier for readers to join. Sometimes it'll be one word: "Terrific." Often, it'll surprise you, they'll say something like "I teared up" or "I wept." It's just nice to know that my writers and I wrote something that touched someone's life...a little bit.

Remember my post on how much trouble I have with my name: "NO, NO, NO, IT'S NOT WILBUR!" Got one from Germany saying, "Liked your story, but what the heck IS your name?"

Yesterday, one came that I really appreciated. I wrote the story about May 21, 2012  "CLOVIS: THE MAGIC STEAM LAUNDRY, 1938," and hadn't thought of it for awhile (though I had planned a part two.) A short email came from ANONYMOUS, saying merely: the above post title and: "Beautiful...enlightening." It made me want to write another year of MIL'S!

They say that "posts" should be the beginnings of conversations; I hope you'll continue sending in your thoughts!

*******30*******
BY MIL
3/24/13






Sent from my iPad

THERE'S GRAPE JELLY ON MY "SURE FIRE"

What's going on over at MIL'S house these early spring days, right after Easter?

Well, if you would really like to know, I'll tell you! It's no big deal, I guess, in the great cosmic scheme, but here it is: I got grape jelly on my Sure Fire flashlight today!

"Ha-Ha," you say..."No, seriously."  "Seriously, I DID."

It wouldn't be so bad if it were just one of those inexpensive $3.95 shiny,  chrome-y, two-cell D flashlights from the '50's...the ones it seemed everyone owned. You could just wipe them off with a damp cloth and go right on.

Not this baby! It is a work of the machinist's art! It is a little two-cell (AA) (lithium batteries) flashlight that throws a bright light out there like the spotlight on a PT Boat, so to speak. I mean---it's BRIGHT! This is unquestionably a flashlight of The First Magnitude. Even its lithium batteries, sitting in the shelf, almost seen hot to the touch, as if they can't wait to get going and get into the fray---whatever fray might be handy at the time!

This little light, a little less than five inches long, has checkering in the hard steel tube that reminds one of the checkering in the wood on a fine English double. You'd expect it to have some burrs, glitches, or crisscross-crosses, but no, it is perfection.

The cost is a bit higher than most, but I was able to skip lunch a couple of times.

You say: "Mil, how did you know about that fantastic flashlight?" Well, my readers, I see snippets of TV shows...(which I don't like), and all the doctors, detectives, coroners, zombie hunters---all this "hotch-potch" (in USA lingo= "hodge-podge") of  people carrying Sure Fires.

May I digress here just to tell you, I have been a "flashlight guy" since I was a little kid. I think I've "had 'em all!"---might not be an exaggeration. The main reason I got this one is its size and it's power, and older people like to downsize. Less baggage and weight.)

Besides, it seems that cadavers are everywhere and I may run across one I'll need to check out. Like Dana on the autopsy show. Nowadays, bodies are appearing everywhere---under beds, wired to ceilings, (yes, I do not kid) in graveyards, and even in dumpers in alleys. And the electricity always seems to be out when you need it.

Back to my flashlights---I never had good luck with them---lots of 'em got this white powdery stuff on the inside and the batteries just stuck and wouldn't come out, even after much prying and chiseling. I've thrown away many a flashlight in frustration.

I do have a bigger one---it is a three C-cell camo, exactly twelve inches long, and with a lanyard ring at end. The plumber guy who installed our central furnace in 1986 had one while scoping out the job, in the dark corners, and I rushed down to the surplus store and bought their last one, and have never seen another since. I once "lost it"---that is, it got put away somewhere and was out of sight for a couple of years. Oh, how I feared the white powder/batteries-frozen-solid-disease...but when my three-cell turned up it was okay, and is NOW certainly okay because it sits here by my work station...in beautiful shape---no powder or frozen batteries inside. In fact it has no batteries---in it, at all.

My granddad "POP," whom I have written about in previous posts, lived down there in Dawson County, south of Lubbock, on a farm. He always had a three cell D flashlight of some kind, sitting there on his old Philco radio in his back bedroom by the back door. It was for spotting feral dogs or cats, rabid skunks, PERPS, or other threats to the chickens...or the farm.

Perps tended to stay away from farms, due to the no-nonsense American attitude in those days. For example, a grand jury night say of a dead perp, in a farmer's backyard: "ER, we find that perp should have been at home by the fire, rather than messing around in somebody's backyard!"

Well, I know you've been itching to know how I got grape jelly on my Sure Fire. The fact is, jelly and I just  don't get along.(See MIL'S PLACE: "ORANGE MARMALADE ON MY APPLE.") In that story you will see Smucker's Law of Marmalade, which posits: "A tiny drop of orange marmalade can make everything within a square yard---sticky!"

Here I sat, this morning, at my writing station, eating a light breakfast, and was putting grape jelly on a slab of toast. My medicine...that is, my pills, were counted out and stacked just to my right, ready to be taken after eating. Somehow, the sleeve on my robe brushed over the pills and knocked the big white one off the edge---onto the floor; and it happened to be a ROLLER. It rolled away under my table. Ah, my young readers, you are lucky---you don't have to take pills yet. So you don't know the alarm I felt when I realized: IT WAS MY FIVE DOLLAR PILL! (Oh yes, my young readers, someone is gouging us old folks!)

Ergo, I grabbed my Sure Fire flashlight quickly, for it sits right in front of me, all the time. I was searching like mad under the table for that pill. I wish I could say---"on my hands and knees." but then I couldn't get up. I was seriously flailing around, I guess, when into the mix---the melee---the kerfuffle---entered the grape jelly. Don't ask me what happened...it just got all over my Sure Fire...into the grooves---the checkering. And all over me!

"No problema," you are quick to say. "Just tah dah, tah dah, and that will do it, Mil!"

Ah, but I haven't quoted to you yet "MIL'S  HYPOCHONDRIUM," * have I? It says: "If Mil gets jelly on something, no matter how long and how hard he cleans on it, it will still be sticky five years later""

Why, even my ball point pen---is sticky right now!

 ( *HYPOCHONDRUM---if it wasn't a word before, it is now!)

********30*******
04/04/13

WHAT HAPPENS IN CLOVIS STAYS IN (ALL OVER) CLOVIS

by Richard Drake, guest writer

******CLOVIS REMEMBERED******

One Sunday morning the Clovis News Journal ran a story with an accompanying picture about an accident in the north part of town.   The report said that a south bound car coming from the direction of Grady had hit the large bill board located at the intersection of Commerce Way and Prince Street.  The large bill board had been damaged during the previous Friday evening.   According to the police report, it appeared that a south bound car hit the sign middle of that intersection.  The vehicle hit the sign directly in the center. The police said that personal injuries had not been reported and there was no evidence of the vehicle involved.  The police speculated that most likely it may have been a drunk driver or someone that had gone to sleep at the wheel, missed the turn, and hit the sign head on.

            The amazing part of the story was that the police had taken measurements and the vehicle had passed between two massive telephone size poles that supported the bill board.  There were wood parts scattered about the area indicating that it had been hit with a good force.  The report stated that there were less than two to three inches of clearance for a vehicle to pass between the poles without hitting one of them.  Someone had been very, very lucky.

Over sixty years have passed since the incident. The Statute of Limitations has expired so this story can be shared.  But, just in case, all names are withheld to protect the guilty.  What started out as innocent Friday night fun almost had serious consequences.

The next week there was a story whispered around Clovis High School.  As it was told to me, a group of boys were dragging Main in a pickup.  There were three in the front seat and two riding in the bed.  As usual, they were greeting every passing car.  There was one car of girls who were flirting with the boys.  After several passes, the girls were invited to join the boys.  Two of the girls sat on the laps of two of the boys in the front of the truck.  It was packed full and away they went.

Tiring of Main street, they continued North on Commerce Way.  The driver attempted a hard right turn onto Prince Street.  The speed was too much and the momentum of the shifting crowd in the front seat pinned the driver and his left arm against his door.   His right hand was lodged under leg of the passenger next to him.  His foot slipped off of the brake pedal.  Before any recovery action could be taken the truck hit the billboard head on.  Wood flew everywhere.  After a quick stop, it was determined that no one was hurt.  The boys in the back did have a good scare as the wood fragments flew over them.  Much to everyone’s surprise a survey of the truck showed no damage.  A quick decision was made to leave the area.  Promises were made that the group would keep the identities “secret”.   This was a problem. In those days, what happened “in Clovis” stayed all “over Clovis”.   The Clovis News Journal had a weekly column, “Bits from Bess” written by a classmate which reported all of the gossip from the high school.  It never printed inside story of the accident.

After reading the story in the paper the boys revisited the scene.  They were amazed at just how lucky they had been.  Never again did they let more than three people sit in the front and they did slow down while driving.

For Mil's Place

Richard Drake, CHS Class of '53

HYMNS AND THE SEA

"JESUS, SAVIOR, PILOT ME"
************************************

"And there was a great storm of wind, and the waves beat into the ship, so that it was now full. And he was in the hinder part of the ship, asleep on a pillow; and they awoke him, and said unto him, Master, carest thou not that we perish? And he arose, and rebuked the wind, and said unto the sea, Peace be still. And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm."
---Mark 4: 37-39
********************

"Living in an area called the 'shipwreck coast,' I am amazed at how many shipwrecks there were in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. The idea of 'peril on the sea' and safety for those who sailed there were very real concerns."  ---Ware
*********************

In 1978, during my second career, I had sold a lot of my product, and had won a CRUISE...to the Bahamas (plus several days of golf at the Doral back in Florida.)  Nowadays, I'm not sure I would do a cruise again, but then it was the greatest thing!  As for seasickness, we had none, but on going back ashore, the Doral swayed for two days!

We were on deck and approaching Nassau Harbor when a neat little boat pulled up to the side of our 14,000 ton cruise ship. A naval-looking officer boarded our ship for the final run into the harbor. The whole thing was impressive. His tough-looking little "pilot boat" bumped us...but we didn't feel it.

Turns out that this has been going on for centuries around harbors and other areas of "treacherous shoals." The term "pilot" was used on the sea, long before it was used for aviation. "Pilot" is from the Latin "pilota," and is thought to have originated in the early sixteenth century.

The  custom of pilot boats for harbors dates all the way back to early Greek and Roman times. Then, anyone with a knowledge of the harbor and channels, and who had a fishing boat, could pick up some extra money by piloting. It is unclear whether he boarded the ship or merely led the ship into the harbor, in his own boat,

Today's pilot boats can be 20-75 feet long, built to withstand heavy seas, and bumping against 100,000 ton ships. They are high-powered and durable and usually painted a highly visible color such as orange, red, or yellow.

While the purpose of pilot boats was to get ships into the channel and harbor, and across all obstacles---and into that final safety, our selected hymn, "Jesus, Savior, Pilot me," seems to ask not only for this, but also guidance for the "total journey," a journey beset by vicious and dangerous storms, as most hymns of the sea metaphorically portray. As mortals, our dangers begin and last throughout the whole journey.

This hymn's lyrics were published in 1871 by Edward Hopper. The tune, "PILOT," by John Gould, was likewise published with the hymn, the same year. "Jesus, Savior, Pilot Me," is often called "The Sailor's Hymn."

An alternate tune to "PILOT," (a 6.6.6.6.6.6. meter tune), is "TOPLADY," (a 7.7.7.7.7.7. meter tune), written in 1830 by Thomas Hastings. Readers will recognize it as the "Rock of Ages" tune. 

As we shall note in future writings about the sea---it was a favorite subject for poets and hymn-writers to compare the vicissitudes, trials, and temptations that they visualized mankind enduring, to an awesome and unrelenting storm at sea. Examples are found in other hymns: "I've felt sin's breakers dashing...trying to conquer my soul." and "Master, the tempest is raging, the billows are tossing high!" Or do you remember: "When the world is tossing me, like a ship upon the sea...Thou who rulest wind and water, stand by me."

This hymn is not found in hymn books much anymore. It never achieved the popularity of many others. I first heard it in a quartet album in my high school days. Nonetheless, it is a worthy poem and expression, so much so, that the Salt Lake City University Institute Men's Choir has chosen to give us this splendid rendition of it. Here are the words:

"Jesus, Savior, pilot me
Over life's tempestuous sea;
Unknown waves before me roll
Hiding rock and treacherous shoal;
Chart and compass come from Thee,
Jesus, Savior, pilot me.

When the darkling heavens frown,
And the wrathful winds come down;
And the fierce waves tossed on high,
Lash themselves against the sky.
Jesus, Savior, pilot me
Over life's tempestuous sea.

As a mother stills her child,
Thou canst hush the ocean wild;
Boisterous waves obey Thy will
When Thou say'st to them 'be still,'
Wondrous Sov' reign of the sea,
Jesus, Savior, pilot me.

Through death's valley I must pass,
Still Thy grace will fear surpass;
In Thy presence I shall rest
And while leaning on Thy breast,
I shall hear Thee say to me
'Fear not, I will pilot thee.' "

“Jesus, Savior, Pilot Me”, Salt Lake City University Institute Men's Choir

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zVcNIvZjarQ&feature=youtube_gdata_player

********30********
BY MIL
3/18/13

Sent from my iPad