*************************************************************
WELCOME BACK TO "COUNTRY BOY BOB"----JUNQUE HOBBYIST!
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Bob, I'm so glad you're back in town
And could stop by for a chat up
In my cozy attic!
I wrote up those other two visits, and a lot
Of people read them, and many good comments
Came in, along with a bunch of questions.
One lady even said: "Hey, here's an idea----
Keep writing about all that interesting stuff, and
those books---and call it 'DOWNTOWN ATTIC,'
From that English TV show!"
C' mon in and set a spell---you take the rocker again,
And we'll remember old times over there inClovis
You know, Bob, one of the reasons I enjoy
Having you come by, besides your Junque knowledge--
Is the fact that we have been friends for
Seventy-three years!
How many people can we talk to, that were there
That long ago?!
Like: do you remember the time, over there
On Reid Street, in 1941, when there were
Big ditches in the streets for city plumbing,
It rained, he ditches were eight feet deep with water
And and we lost my little brother somehow; (he turned up!)
Or when we scraped used brick over on Reid
At the "new"Asbury Methodist Church
That was getting rich slowly, wasn't it?
After we got paid, we each got a big twelve ounce
Pepsi, drove a shingle nail hole through the lid...
(we did that often, and I never knew why),
Then we took about one swig, shook up the bottle
And had a Pepsi fight, squirting Pepsi all around!
All the fizz was then gone.
We'll have to call this visit today---
"THE ATTIC WHISPERER,"
Because just like when were little boys
And knew secrets, I'm going to divulge stuff today!!
Big-time, important stuff!
Here, please hang this sign on the door,
And close it.
"WOMEN NEED NOT KNOCK!"
Well, for one thing---ER, am I whispering enough?
You have to watch women---they hate junk,
Unless it is of course THEIR junk. Then it's okay.
They are notorious at giving away a bunch of clothes,
Or junk; then they'll say: "I need some new blah-blahs!"
Whereas, men are content just to keep
Their same old clothes or junk, figuring it's pretty nice
And is paid for.
Why, let me tell you---I just don't get women's fashions---
The other day we were driving along and there walked
Two pretty nice looking older girls...
But the poor things---Bob, the knees were totally ripped
Out of their old faded light blue jeans...(and the seats, wo!)
When I say "ripped,"---I mean RIPPED!
In pity, my heart went out to them...and I blurted out:
"If I had two hundred dollars to spare, I'd buy
Those cute girls, a nice new pair of blue jeans each!"
Know what the wife said? She said---
"That's the style!"
So anyway, shhh! Bob, low-key your admiration of my junk...
Now and then I get fearful vibes, that my stuff
Might have to go.
I know guys that can't keep anything---
Their wives have practically daily give-aways to
Good Will, S.Army, and the Vets.
Okay, now it's time for a little lunch before we talk,
And I might add---a little more whispering.
For you see, we are having that old
Duck-hunter's lunch---sardines, cheese, crackers,
And onions. Don't worry, I can leave the attic window open
All night!
We'll need to eat fast or the wife might smell
Our lunch! More's the pity too that women don't like
Sardines---have you read the specs on them?
Wow!Nutrition City
Now I must keep whispering---I know you think I'm
Deceptive...but let me tell you the biggie news
About our lunch BEVERAGE! Remember seventy years ago
When you got sick with the old "tum-tum" and your
Mother went to the store and bought you a real mild, no-fizz
Grape drink? What was it Bob? Think....
YES, YES, YES! In my little fridge, I have two
DELAWARE
Now, I haven't broken the news yet to management,
Because they cost me two dollars per can;
They don't come in bottles anymore.
And they aren't cheap!
WELCOME BACK TO "COUNTRY BOY BOB"----JUNQUE HOBBYIST!
*************************************************************
Bob, I'm so glad you're back in town
And could stop by for a chat up
In my cozy attic!
I wrote up those other two visits, and a lot
Of people read them, and many good comments
Came in, along with a bunch of questions.
One lady even said: "Hey, here's an idea----
Keep writing about all that interesting stuff, and
those books---and call it 'DOWNTOWN ATTIC,'
From that English TV show!"
C' mon in and set a spell---you take the rocker again,
And we'll remember old times over there in
You know, Bob, one of the reasons I enjoy
Having you come by, besides your Junque knowledge--
Is the fact that we have been friends for
Seventy-three years!
How many people can we talk to, that were there
That long ago?!
Like: do you remember the time, over there
On Reid Street, in 1941, when there were
Big ditches in the streets for city plumbing,
It rained, he ditches were eight feet deep with water
And and we lost my little brother somehow; (he turned up!)
Or when we scraped used brick over on Reid
At the "new"
That was getting rich slowly, wasn't it?
After we got paid, we each got a big twelve ounce
Pepsi, drove a shingle nail hole through the lid...
(we did that often, and I never knew why),
Then we took about one swig, shook up the bottle
And had a Pepsi fight, squirting Pepsi all around!
All the fizz was then gone.
We'll have to call this visit today---
"THE ATTIC WHISPERER,"
Because just like when were little boys
And knew secrets, I'm going to divulge stuff today!!
Big-time, important stuff!
Here, please hang this sign on the door,
And close it.
"WOMEN NEED NOT KNOCK!"
Well, for one thing---ER, am I whispering enough?
You have to watch women---they hate junk,
Unless it is of course THEIR junk. Then it's okay.
They are notorious at giving away a bunch of clothes,
Or junk; then they'll say: "I need some new blah-blahs!"
Whereas, men are content just to keep
Their same old clothes or junk, figuring it's pretty nice
And is paid for.
Why, let me tell you---I just don't get women's fashions---
The other day we were driving along and there walked
Two pretty nice looking older girls...
But the poor things---Bob, the knees were totally ripped
Out of their old faded light blue jeans...(and the seats, wo!)
When I say "ripped,"---I mean RIPPED!
In pity, my heart went out to them...and I blurted out:
"If I had two hundred dollars to spare, I'd buy
Those cute girls, a nice new pair of blue jeans each!"
Know what the wife said? She said---
"That's the style!"
So anyway, shhh! Bob, low-key your admiration of my junk...
Now and then I get fearful vibes, that my stuff
Might have to go.
I know guys that can't keep anything---
Their wives have practically daily give-aways to
Good Will, S.Army, and the Vets.
Okay, now it's time for a little lunch before we talk,
And I might add---a little more whispering.
For you see, we are having that old
Duck-hunter's lunch---sardines, cheese, crackers,
And onions. Don't worry, I can leave the attic window open
All night!
We'll need to eat fast or the wife might smell
Our lunch! More's the pity too that women don't like
Sardines---have you read the specs on them?
Wow!
Now I must keep whispering---I know you think I'm
Deceptive...but let me tell you the biggie news
About our lunch BEVERAGE! Remember seventy years ago
When you got sick with the old "tum-tum" and your
Mother went to the store and bought you a real mild, no-fizz
Grape drink? What was it Bob? Think....
YES, YES, YES! In my little fridge, I have two
Now, I haven't broken the news yet to management,
Because they cost me two dollars per can;
They don't come in bottles anymore.
And they aren't cheap!
They're from Old Mexico, so I hope they don't
Have a big worm in each can!
They have a drink that has a big worm in the
Bottle, intentionally. (Not that I've ever tried it.)
See that old cane bottom chair over in the corner,
Under a big stack of quilts---
I had to search for that chair.
It is just like the one my grandmother used at
POP'S PLACE to store her quilts.
They were on that chair in the boys' room
On the back of the garage; folded neatly
They almost reached the ceiling.
We don't have nearly as many here in the attic
As she had.
I can remember a quilt-sized rack hanging
Up in the ceiling of her bedroom---
She lowered it at each corner for quilting parties.
The ladies didn't have Facebook, twittering, tweeting,
Texting or twitching, but don't you imagine they were
Hoarse after a quilting party!?
I've always loved quilts!
They are one of the poetic group!
I keep most of my library on shelves down in the garage.
But up here, in this rough hammered-together old
Bookshelf, is where I keep many favorites---many
Second and third reads---these are books for
"Attic-Reading!" Know what I mean?
"Cozy reading".... when the wind is howling
And my old favorite renegade mulberry branch
Is slapping the house in rhythm.
Henning Mankell's famous Swedish detective,
Kurt Wallander, had a branch like that just outside
His window, and in that far-northern latitude,
Storms were constantly coming up and swaying
His light pole, and his branch was whacking the house.
There's a set of eight of Mankell's books you can check out
Have a big worm in each can!
They have a drink that has a big worm in the
Bottle, intentionally. (Not that I've ever tried it.)
See that old cane bottom chair over in the corner,
Under a big stack of quilts---
I had to search for that chair.
It is just like the one my grandmother used at
POP'S PLACE to store her quilts.
They were on that chair in the boys' room
On the back of the garage; folded neatly
They almost reached the ceiling.
We don't have nearly as many here in the attic
As she had.
I can remember a quilt-sized rack hanging
Up in the ceiling of her bedroom---
She lowered it at each corner for quilting parties.
The ladies didn't have Facebook, twittering, tweeting,
Texting or twitching, but don't you imagine they were
Hoarse after a quilting party!?
I've always loved quilts!
They are one of the poetic group!
I keep most of my library on shelves down in the garage.
But up here, in this rough hammered-together old
Bookshelf, is where I keep many favorites---many
Second and third reads---these are books for
"Attic-Reading!" Know what I mean?
"Cozy reading".... when the wind is howling
And my old favorite renegade mulberry branch
Is slapping the house in rhythm.
Henning Mankell's famous Swedish detective,
Kurt Wallander, had a branch like that just outside
His window, and in that far-northern latitude,
Storms were constantly coming up and swaying
His light pole, and his branch was whacking the house.
There's a set of eight of Mankell's books you can check out
At a library.
I have one or two of them up here somewhere.
(See MIL'S Place: "GOODBYE, DEAR WALLANDER!")
Here's a rather simple but excellent book
That has been one of my favorites.
The author became a favorite.
Notice how beat-up it is.
The story behind it is this---
I had a very nice lady junior high librarian
As a client. She was in the office a few times
And I always try to learn things from knowledgeable people,
So we talked books.
One day she said: "There is a good book by a fine author,
Hal Borland, that we use in junior high but it is good
For adults as well. It is: 'HIGH, WIDE, AND LONESOME.'"
I got the book and you can see that is has been read many times!
In the book, circa 1912, the young Hal rides acrossKansas
With his father, in their wagon, buying cheese and crackers,
At quaint rural general stores, as they head forColorado
To file a claim for a homestead.
The homesteading years proved to be a challenge for the family.
Blinding snowstorms required tying a line from the house to the barn.
Eastern Colorado prairie winds were almost unbelievable.
I loved the book the first, second, and third times I read it.
Then I read everything I could find on Hal Borland.
He became a noted "nature" writer---for a bigNew York
He wrote a number of books.
He later lived on a farm inConnecticut
In wintertime.
When he died, about twenty years ago, I wrote his wife
The warmest letter I could create.
(See MIL'S Place: "GOODBYE, DEAR WALLANDER!")
Here's a rather simple but excellent book
That has been one of my favorites.
The author became a favorite.
Notice how beat-up it is.
The story behind it is this---
I had a very nice lady junior high librarian
As a client. She was in the office a few times
And I always try to learn things from knowledgeable people,
So we talked books.
One day she said: "There is a good book by a fine author,
Hal Borland, that we use in junior high but it is good
For adults as well. It is: 'HIGH, WIDE, AND LONESOME.'"
I got the book and you can see that is has been read many times!
In the book, circa 1912, the young Hal rides across
With his father, in their wagon, buying cheese and crackers,
At quaint rural general stores, as they head for
To file a claim for a homestead.
The homesteading years proved to be a challenge for the family.
Blinding snowstorms required tying a line from the house to the barn.
I loved the book the first, second, and third times I read it.
Then I read everything I could find on Hal Borland.
He became a noted "nature" writer---for a big
He wrote a number of books.
He later lived on a farm in
In wintertime.
When he died, about twenty years ago, I wrote his wife
The warmest letter I could create.
There's a funny family story
Which always comes to mind when
I think of "High, Wide, and Lonesome!"
The year was 1972...we were a young family,
And about as poor as "Job's
We needed a new vehicle, and settled
On a new '72 Chevrolet Cheyenne pickup.
We headed out to
All four of us riding in the front seat.
(The boys were young and skinny.)
The gist of this story is that we had just
Acquired Borland's book, "High, Wide..."
And the wife was reading it to the family...
Out loud---to pass the weary miles and avoid the
"Are we there yets?"
It got dark and we couldn't read anymore, so we sang
A couple of stanzas of a favorite hymn:
"Softly and tenderly Jesus is calling,
Calling for you and for me...
See on the portals he's waiting and watching..."
And about that time an urgent call of nature
Struck the kids, as it does in traveling families.
Often.
I pulled off the highway, around Vega, maybe
An hour's drive from
A big borrow ditch with grass a foot tall.
As I stopped and hurriedly "de-pickup-ed"
To let the kid on my side out, our new
Pride-and-Joy
Half full of coffee, rolled out of the driver's side floor---
In the dark (of course), and rolled under the pickup.
Concerned at the moment with keeping
The younger boy off the highway,
I made a mental note to get a flashlight ("in a minute")
And retrieve this
You are ahead of me, aren't you?
Yes, the next time I remembered that priceless thermos
Of ours, was in the outskirts of
Bob, I've never quite got over losing that bottle.
(In such a stupid way.)
The funny thing is...
That I have passed that same spot dozens of times
Over the years, and there has not been one time
That I didn't think of that night, years ago...
When we were young, the kids were young---
And we read "High, Wide, and Lonesome---"
Sang "Softly and tenderly Jesus is calling---
And lost our
(In later years, I've even met old farmers, over there, driving
Old pickups along the highway, and said to myself:
"I'll bet HE has got MY Stanley in his pickup seat,
Half full of coffee!")
As they say, "Not to change the subject," and then
I'll change the subject! LOL.
I noticed you've been looking at my "Boater" hat
Hanging on that old hat rack over there...
It's a long story---see, that hat was big back
In the twenties and thirties, all over the world.
It may have been popular a lot earlier than that
For Mr. Barton used them in his "Naughty Nineties" musical
One year, at
Mardis wore one in "I Remember Mama," the Senior Play.
My dad and uncle both wore boaters in the late thirties.
Barbershop Quartets favored them!
Well, here is the last "attic whisper" of the day---
I saw one in a novelty catalog and bought it
(Impulsively) for thirty bucks. Shhh.... don't say nuthin'.
(Impulsively) for thirty bucks. Shhh.... don't say nuthin'.
I have so much fun wearing this thing up here
In my attic!
Listen to my own 1920's megaphone-crooner's voice---
Just cup your hands around your mouth and
Get a nasal sound, like this:
"Win-ches-ter Ca-the-dral...
You're break-in me Dow--ow--ow-n."
See, fun isn't it!? Here, wear my boater...
Try it! A little more nasal! There---you got it!
Well, time has passed...and I've done most
Of the talking. Don't you think, being around
One's life's-history-stuff sort of tends....
To loosen one's tongue?!
I did want to tell you something I remember about
Your mother; it happened nearly seventy years ago.
It's no big thing---just a nice little memory.
I was in your house dozens of times during those
Hot summers of the forties. Your mother was always
At work in the kitchen. She was a good cook
Sometimes we'd get great cookie or two!
I don't remember anything that was said all those times...
Except one time, and it is as clear in my mind as
Yesterday.
She was wearing one of those pretty, flowery "walk-into"
Aprons...her pressure cooker was sitting there on the
Cabinet, and I believe it held four or six quarts.
She was talking and working and three or four of us were
Watching, and something was said, and she said:
"Boys, you probably don't believe me and you can't realize
This at your age, but one day you will all be twenty-one
And grown."
Bob, it turned out, she was right.
Hey, there's one sardine left here---why don't you eat it?
I'll eat this piece of onion left here
and maybe improve my sardine-breath. LOL.
Hasn't this been fun!? Come back soon!!
********30*******
BY MIL
04/02/13
Sent from my iPad
and maybe improve my sardine-breath. LOL.
Hasn't this been fun!? Come back soon!!
********30*******
BY MIL
04/02/13
Sent from my iPad
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