"OUR MICHELIN FLAT TIRE"

Alas, alas...
The worst thing happened---
My Beloved got a nail
In her Michelin---
A three hundred dollar tire
I'll bet.

She stayed out of alleys
With their nails and screws
And old screw drivers, but
She got a nail...out on the street!

(Yes, we had a flat once
With a five inch screw-driver,
Broken off,
Sticking into the tire...)


We took her Michelin
To the Acme Tire Co.
Over here, and they
Surprised me.
They fixed it!
Usually they say...
"Uh sorry, we must sell you
A new tire."

But they fixed it.

I told them: it should cost
Three dollars
Jake always charged...
Three dollars
At O.K. Rubber Welders
Down there in Clovis
At Grand and Connelly
In the forties
During WWII...
When "Hoss" fixed tires!.

They said: "Sorry, Pal,
These little rubber plugs
Are pricey,
And WWII is over,
Doncha know?"

"And by the way,
Who was this Jake?"
"Best tire man around
In the whole state,"
I said.

"It'll be thirty-one dollars---
Want to pay it out
By the month?"

"I'll pay cash,
But Pal---
Forget the tip!"

"Next time,
I'll drive to Clovis
On my spare!"

"Is Jake still there?"
He said.

"No, but his
son is!"

********30******
BY MIL
10/29/13








Sent from my iPad

"APPLES"

ITS THAT TIME OF YEAR AGAIN---APPLE TIME!

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

It's that time of year again---apple time! If you've been

feeling a little under the weather--a little out of sorts--

maybe what you may need is "an apple a day " for

awhile. Tomatoes are history and now you need 

another great source of vitamins.

Listen to this---Apples, sources of:

Vitamin C

Vitamin B--6, pyridoxine

Vitamin B--2, riboflavin

Thiamine

ATP

(AND who knows what else?)

With apples you get few calories, no fat, no sodium, and

there is no cholesterol! (Why, this is better than French 

fries!) And eating one is like eating a rose---yes they are

from the rose family! Why, this is great! I always kinda 

thought they were just---gifts for the teacher!

Experts tell us that there are 2500 species of apples

grown in the USA.

It is time to think about apples, talk about them, and

go out and get some and store them for Christmas

and next spring!

"They" say, and it is true, if you buy a whole sack or

box of apples, wrap each apple individually in a piece

of old newspaper, or maybe a small ziplock bag, and

if you store them in a very cold place---like the crispers

in your fridge, they will last until April. We have done it.

If they get mellow, make a pie.(Note: ziplocks and I

don't get along.)

I believe the professional growers, in order to have 

viable, crispy products all the way into the next

summer, store them at near freezing---33 degrees.

Do you have any neat "apple memories?" We have lived 

in New Mexico, (our second time around) for 52 years. Our 

memories of apple shopping began when we came

back to the state from a sojourn in Texas, my native 

state.

One fall, early in the sixties, while dove hunting south

of Belen, a rainstorm, dark and threatening was building

over Ladron Mountain. My hunting buddy and I headed for
town, and passed a neat little warehouse by the side of an
apple orchard.

You could see apples through the door and apples all

around in baskets. My friend and I  stopped and 

bought two sacks. It was an early crop. They were good.

There was a big orchard south of the Los Lunas prison

complex that used to sell all its apples to Safeway. Twice

I talked them out of a box. I believe they were Delicious

apples--big ones-- and more than any other apple I have 

ever eaten, when you bit into one of those, they actually

dripped, they were so juicy!

I had a job that required extensive travel and I bought 

apples at a number of places: one time in the mountains

near Ruidoso; another time east of Farmington from a 

refrigerated warehouse. One time in the fertile valley 

near Ft. Sumner...Farmer's Market in Albuquerque always

has good ones, and it's not necessary to travel...but then

part of the neatness of the whole experience is visiting an

actual orchard and seeing them grow on the trees!

    

What brand of apples to buy? It seems that Granny Smiths

are listed for many recipes. Winesaps are favored for

cooking. Through many of the earlier years we just always

bought Delicious apples. I have found that Galas and Fujis

are often good and crispy.

Someone told my wife to always buy "Honey Crisps" if

you want the juiciest, tartest apples. This someone was 

right! They are about the best I've eaten, though they

may run you nearly a dollar for a big one. 

No apple story out of New Mexico would be complete

without going into some detail about one of the most

famous apple orchards in the southwest. That orchard

was "Dixon Apples," founded in 1944, by Fred and 

Fay Dixon. 

The way I interpret the story is that an old timer named

James Young owned a dude ranch, about thirty miles

north of Albuquerque, 19,000 acres, including a canyon,

near Cochiti Lake, in the Jemez Mountains. The name 

of his ranch was Rancho de Canada. In 1944 Fred and

Faye Dixon came to manage the ranch and it became an

apple orchard. Apparently they later leased it from Jim.

The first apples we bought from this place were called

"OLD JIM YOUNG'S CHAMPAGNE" apples. This was 

circa 1962. We drove out there and had to go about

eight or nine miles off the paving, on a good 

well-traveled gravel road. There were lines of cars on 

a weekend. The apples were golden, looking like they 

were filled with sweet-tasting nectar, or champagne, as 

they were billed. We put a box under my parent's tree 

that year. They wanted them every Christmas after that!

Over the years, the "Old Jim Young" was dropped and they

became DIXON ORCHARD apples. We had a friend 

who went every year in October to get apples there, and

 she'd call and say: "How many pounds do you want?"

She's gone now, to a Greater Ochard above, where 

maybe there are apples for the picking, year-round.

The orchard there in Rancho de Canada may be gone

too, or at least recuperating, for it has fallen on hard

times--first the Conchas Fire of June 26, 2011 damaged

the area and left much harmful debris and ashes to wash 

into the orchard, and the next year a severe flood did

further damage. I've read that the descendants of the 

Dixon's  have moved their operation to Wisconsin. 

It's apple season again and the above story just goes

to show that everything we have on this earth comes

with work, effort, sacrifice, and a price. Even miraculous

APPLES!

My dad loved growing things, He was a farm boy. In 

Clcvis, in his backyard, he had four or five apple trees.

He even grafted golden apples onto red apple trees.

Not many people know this, but if you don't spray for

worms on your apple trees--the right time, the right spray,

the right way, applying to every part of the tree, repeating  

if necessary---worms will ruin your apples later on. Count

on it.

Dad was out there, in the backyard; he was in poor health,

wrapped like a space walker--against the poison 

spray--doing his apples every April! he always had great 

apples and put them up in Mason jars.

So it's apple time--it's autumn-- let's enjoy them and don't 

forget a warm glass of apple juice and maybe a little

apple butter on your peanut butter and toast.

---30---
MIL'S PLACE
10-29-30

GOLDFIELD-----A GOOD PLACE FOR "SPARKING"

***********************************
WHEN AMERICA WAS YOUNG
***********************************

by Richard Drake, guest writer

My wife Marcia's mother, Alice, was born in Goldfield, Colorado, part of the Cripple Creek Mining District which included the towns of Cripple Creek, Victor and Goldfield. The gold mines had made it into a thriving community; it had an electric street car that ran a loop through the three towns. The tracks ran down the middle of the streets. Daily train service was available to Colorado Springs and on to Denver. Goldfield had many services: a grocery store, drug store, clothing store, a meat man, a milk man and a doctor, Dr. Hayes.

Her Grandfather, Jacob James Hore, immigrated to the United States in the 1892 from Cornwall England. He was one of four sons who were all Cornish miners, following in the footsteps of their Father, who later became Captain of the Cornwall clay pits, famous for the fine clay used by the North Cornwall China Clay Company. Brothers, James, Joseph and Samuel came to the states and Harry went to New Zealand. James worked in the mines for six years to save his money to return to Cornwall in 1898 to marry his childhood sweetheart, Lilly Grace Pascoe. Brother, Sam, died in an avalanche that wiped out the boarding house in which he was living.

There were four children in the family John, Fred, Grace, and Alice, Marcia's mom. Uncle John became a regular visitor to our home on Lookout Mountain, Colorado. He had been raised as a proper gentleman in the English tradition, always dressed in a suit and tie with a fedora on his head. Our three children would not let him be the English gentleman in our home. They loved him and he became their grown up toy. Having no children of his own, he returned their love. One of their favorite tricks was to pull up his suspendered trousers high, on his waist, and call him "Mister High Pockets". It seemed that he spent more time on the floor with our three rug rats than he did in a chair.

Marcia's family always talked fondly of "up home" when remembering their childhood. In 1985, our family took a vacation to Colorado to visit the folks. While there, they expressed a desire to go "up home" for what they said would probably be their last visit considering their advancing years. So early one Saturday morning, we packed up and went to the mountains. It was a full day including going down in a mine to see what it was life was like as a miner. I did not go on the mine tour because Grace had lost most of her sight at that point in her life. Everyone thought it would be dangerous for her in the dimly lit tunnels so I volunteered to stay with her. We found the site of their old home site and they relived the stories of their childhood.

Uncle John and Aunt Grace were a wealth of information. Their minds were still very sharp. They told of their memories of growing up. One of the best was about the town curfew officer whose job was to corral kids after dark or during the school day. They called him "Peg Leg" because of his wooden leg. The kids could hear the "thunk - thunk" of his steps as he walked down the wooden sidewalks, giving them plenty of warning to hide under the sidewalk. They talked about the "kick the can" games, football in the street and wagon ride picnics.

The family had many stories about the union and management difficulties of the early 1900's and they were fascinating. At one point the troubles broke out into open riots. Father, John, had been elected Town and Water Marshall and any one in a position of authority became a marked man of the union members. Uncle John led us to a deep gully on the edge of the town and showed us where the family had hidden their father to protect him from the rioters. The governor of the state had to call out the National Guard to quell the trouble. We also visited the old town fire station and jail where their Father had worked.

Of course, the highlight of the visit was finding the remains of the old family house. The family knew exactly where to look. Only the concrete foundation was remaining. The house consisted of a living room, kitchen, and two bedrooms. There had been a wood stove in the kitchen for cooking and they had a pot belly stove in the living room for heat. They would buy or cut their own wood. Kerosene lamps were used in the bedrooms. Eventually they had electric lights which were bare bulbs hanging by the electric cord with a chain for turning on and off.  At first the kitchen drainage was in the form of a bucket under the sink but eventually they had water piped into the kitchen and the water was drained into the cesspool.

 Mother and Father slept in one bedroom while John and Fred had the other bedroom. Grace and Al slept in the living room on a folding bed. Clothes were washed in a scrub tub with a wash board. They had a boiler that was put on the stove to boil clothes. A long broom handle was used to turn the hot clothes. The house was insulated with newspapers.

John pointed out several small depressions at the back of the old family lot where the old outdoor toilet had sat at various times. John told us that when Father had dug the pits, he found gold nuggets in one. The laws of The Town of Goldfield were very strict and did not allow any type of mining within the town limits. So the gold finding could not be exploited. John suspected that the outhouse was relocated often and the holding pits were deeply dug since there was no law against keeping any gold found under an outdoor privy.

Uncle John pointed out the various names of the mines on the mountain side where Father John had worked. He remembered all of the names, Prospect #1 and #2, the Independence, and the Vindicator. He pointed out the foot paths carved into the mountain which he and his Father had used to reach their work places. Families would watch the miners coming home in the evenings. Uncle John took me aside and told me little stories that he did not want the women to hear. We walked to a high point called Bull Hill from which one could see the lights of Pueblo, Colorado at night. He could remember taking a mule drawn wagon to the foot of Pikes Peak and climbing to the summit.

At the top of the hill was a large grove of aspen trees. He said the young men brought their girl friends to this site to look at the lights and to do a little "sparking". I asked him to explain the term. He said holding hands and, maybe kissing. I asked him if he had ever done that and he pointed high up on a large tree and there were his and a young lady's initials carved inside of a large heart. He never said a word, only smiled. The smile told the story.

Another tale told with a "twinkle" in his eye was about the trick that he and his friends like to play on the town leaders in Cripple Creek. He pointed out a row of old concrete foundations said that these were from the "girlie" houses, brothels. The town leaders would visit the girls after their town meetings. One night John and his friends climbed up on the hillside above the houses and threw rocks onto the tin roofs after the men had been inside for a while. Of course, the leaders had policemen watch for the criminals after that; several weeks later they would stop the surveillance and the boys would return for another night of fun watching the town leaders scrambling.

Father James became ill during the 1918-1919 flu epidemic and never fully recovered. He died in 1920 from "miner's lung" disease. Shortly after, Uncle, John, who had followed his Father's profession, was involved in a minor cave in. His mother would not let him go back into the mines. For a short time he worked on the Victor Register at the same time as Lowell Thomas who became famous as a news correspondent. Finally Mother put him on a train to Denver to find a job and never go back into the mines. The family soon followed.

No visit to this part of Colorado was complete without a tour of the Cripple Creek District Museum. When signing the visitor register, John mentioned to one of the ladies who was working at the museum that he had been raised in Goldfield. She informed him that a man had told her the same thing just minutes before. John went looking and found one of his best friends from childhood. It was the friend who had joined him on the train from Goldfield to Denver. The friend had traveled on to San Diego where he had resided ever since. He had just brought his wife to see Colorado to show her where he had grown up. Uncle John never cried but I do believe I saw a few tears when he greeted his old friend. Arrangements were made for the old friends to spend some time together in Denver before they returned to the west coast.

There is no better way to spend a warm Saturday than to listen to the older members of family telling stories of their youth; especially when there is some "sparking' in the memories.

Harry, Samuel, James and Joseph

For MIL'S PLACE

10-28-13

Richard Drake, CHS '53

"MR. GATTIS"

LA CASITA KIDS REMEMBER BELOVED PRINCIPAL

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

We called him “Mr. Gattis”.  

There was one thing everybody knew:  You didn’t fool around with Mr. Gattis.  He was principal of old La Casita School in Clovis, in the thirties and forties.  Here is “the rest of the story” from some little kids----who were there.

Let me tell you--he was a serious, dedicated man---serious about his calling, his school, his teachers, and us kids.  He had “gravitas” long before the word was ever heard.

There were GIANTS IN THE LAND in those days. He was one.

He was all business.  I say that respectfully.  In the vernacular of our day and time, we would say:  “He took no prisoners.”  I never saw him smile.  (If I’d been leader of that rowdy crew of depression kids, and responsible for them, I might not have smiled either!)

Today I don’t visualize him as being a guy who had coffee and lots of laughs with all the other men principals, or even being out on the golf course with them.  I visualize him more as a man who tied his own flies and liked to wrestle with the big trout on secluded mountain streams.

I, in September 1939, was a skinny, scared five year old kid, just being thrown out of the nest.  School had been going for five days when my mother decided I ought to start school a year early.

Hitler was rampaging and blitzkrieging across Poland, but I didn’t know or care.  I was having to give up my “trike.”  We went to La Casita and to Mr. Gattis’ office.  He scared me.  (In those days, I’d have been scared of Mr. Rogers!) He sent us to see Mr. Bickley, the school superintendent, at his office, down there behind the high school.  

Mother did some fast talking, likely saying:  “Sir, he’s really smarter than he looks....” and she got me in.  Ergo, another trip back to see Mr. Gattis.  So I started to school....five days late...another story.  

His office was dark and daunting, varnished real good, and with a big desk....almost as scary as that doctor’s office where I got my smallpox vaccination.

My memory of Mr. Gattis is that he was a slender man, slight---about 5’11”----weighing maybe 160 lbs.  He was probably 45 at the time, and always wore a gray suit...so it seems in my memory.  His “Adam’s apple” showed.  He was graying at the temples.

No grass grew under his feet.  He moved with a purpose.  I never saw him “stroll.”   Never saw him out on that cement-hard playground.  Never saw him hitting grounders to the boys or standing around chatting with his faculty.  If the “blurbly” water fountain out front quit working, you might see him out there with a wrench, fooling around with it!

He ran a good ship (read: “school”) and by heavens, it was going to stay that way!

His office was right at the SE corner of the south wing!  When in the fifth grade, I passed that scary office every day, and my eyes were drawn to it in fascination.  The boys all said there was a BIG PADDLE hanging on the wall....and Mr. Gattis knew how to use it.  (Good thing I didn’t see it in ’39!)  I never saw that famous paddle!

I suppose he made announcements and stuff when we had school assemblies in that little beat-up all-purpose “gym,” with the bleachers on the south side. In the 6th grade, I sang the lead as “Reddy” in “Reddy’s Mammoth Show,” but alas, Mr. Gattis didn’t come up and hug me, and say: “Great job, Mil!”  But that’s OK, I understood.  Real men don’t gush....and stuff.

I recently read an account of a modern school situation....and when I read it, I thought “they wouldn’t get away with this with Mr. Gattis.”  (But then we live in weird times, don’t we?)

This event happened in a teacher’s class:  One of her students called her a "stupid ass" in class.  The principal put the kid in detention.  He then phoned the mother of the kid and told her that she should come get him.  On arrival and grasping the situation, she told the principal that her kid was right and they were all “stupid asses” in that school.

I have a couple of observations here:  First, I fear that Mr. Gattis, if it had been his situation, might have spanked the mother....and secondly:  are we raising another “Greatest Generation” in the USA?

This being somewhat of a history of memories from those of us little kids who were there, I must say that I cannot give you any hard facts or history about Mr. W.D. “Doc” Gattis.  I do vaguely remember that "Doc" terminology, but I could have heard it later.  To me he was always just ....Mr. Gattis!

A man to remember....a man of purpose....a man who wore authority like a finely tailored suit!  A fair man...and I never heard a negative word about him----never.

I repeat:  There were giants in the earth in those days.
***************************************************************

Here are memories from other schoolmates:

MR. GATTIS: "DIRECTING TRAFFIC"

by Bobby Joe, CHS class of '53

W. D. 'Doc' Gattis-----  Mil, I can't give you a lot of information about Doc Gattis.  You remember him about the same way that I do.  One thing that sticks out is that Doc Gattis would get out in the middle of 7th street, near the intersection of Thornton and 7th and direct traffic,,,,actually slow traffic down when kids were crossing 7th street. That was before they had a signal light at that intersection.  He would wave his hands and arms at vehicles that were going too fast.  Yes, he would sure spank you if you misbehaved, but he was a great man at heart.  The news of those spankings traveled pretty fast and was definitely a deterrent to some of those rowdy boys.  No, I never did get sent to the office but I sure got some swats by my teachers.

MR. GATTIS: "APPLYING THE BOARD"

by Albin, CHS class of '51 

This request brought back a lot  of memories.  I think I wrote some of this to you before, but I will say some of it again.  We had just moved to Clovis from Sudan, TX.  First, I was confronted by Miss Bledsoe.   To me, she was scary, but I learned to love her.  But that first day, I got stabbed with my own pencil.   She took me to the nurse's station, all the way at the north end of the front hall.  As I sat there having my arm bandaged, I could hear Mr. Gattis "applying the board of education to the seat of knowledge" even though there were at least two closed doors between us down that long hall.  I made up my mind that I never wanted him to introduce me to that "board".   

I can't say too much about Mr. Gattis, except that I would never do anything that would allow him to punish me. Yet we all  seemed to love him in our own ways.  For some reason, it seems to me that he was "Dr." Gattis.

MR. GATTIS: "GOOD JOB!"

by Richard, CHS class of '53

I don't have many specific memories of Mr. Gattis.  I never got into trouble, so I never had a one-on-one with him.  One time the sixth grade bully made me meet him at the west end of the school grounds just over the rock wall.  I had a big board to help me even the odds.  I guess someone told Mr. Gattis because about two days later, he said "good job".    The bully left La Casita within the week.

 MR. GATTIS:  "HIGH RESPECT"
by Sue, CHS class of '51

In the lower grades I sensed the high respect that the teachers had for him and that we were expected to have because he was the PRINCIPAL!  In the fifth and sixth grades I was sometimes asked to be the errand girl in Mr. Gattis' office, and that was considered an honor. An errand girl was a necessity, before intercoms, to take messages to teachers all around the school.  I think he was a rather slight man, somewhat crouched over, though not elderly.

Art and Mil, La Casita Days

"School Days"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1i76i7NN0Ag&feature=youtube_gdata_player

----30----

Mil's Place

by Mil

Bobby Joe Snipes

Dr. Albin Covington

Richard Drake
Sue Hale

THERE'S NOTHING LIKE AUTUMN!

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

AUTUMN LIGHT....AND  FEELINGS....OF ETERNITY.

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

Poets write about spring...

Poets write about summer...

Poets write even about winter,

But there's no time in 

All creation...like autumn!

It seems that all nature

Slows down a bit in autumn.

The sun, which shone hotly

and worked hard all summer

to get the crops in...now seems 

gentle, as if coasting and relaxing.

There is a strange quietness

in the fall of the year...in what

We call..."Indian Summer."

The leaves are turning and falling...

I know of a cozy park. Over in the

back corner, out of sight is a park bench

Where I like to go, and ponder things...

I'm headed over there to sit a spell---

And maybe watch the little squirrels

Scampering happily among the 

Golden leaves, or playing peek-a-boo

With me up on the tree limbs...

There are always cheerful little birds there---

All around, celebrating creation with

their melodious tunes.

An almost non-existent gentle breeze

Is breathing over me and the park...

My, it is cool and nice! Is it...the breath

of God? Is He walking among His sons and

daughters? 

I don't like the song: "From a distance,

our God is watching us;" No, He is all around us,

holding everything together; After all, "He's got the

whole wide world in His hand!"

I'm sitting there, absorbing it all. and thinking:

If a person were helping to design the world

Way back at the beginning---would he 

In his most creative moment, ever have thought

Of a TREE? And one whose leaves changed

to beautiful colors in the fall!? Would this person

Have even conceived the idea of "autumn?"

This is a good time and place to do some

Serious pondering and meditating...

To go back over in your memory

Your years, and some of the

Old long-forgotten times, and friends, 

Many of which are still fresh in your mind,

And dear....

Maybe it's time to be grateful

To the Creator for everything and

To promise to try to do a little better...

A good time to think of our fellow men,

Many of whom are carrying loads

Much heavier than we suspect.

("How can we love God, whom we have

not seen, if we don't love man whom we 

have seen?")

Have you ever sat and prayed, and

mentioned by name, many of the folks

you can think of, whom you have known

in your life? We owe a lot to many of them.

As we sit and ponder the deeper things

which comes to mind in autumn---

The nip in the afternoon air and the

Ever-present smell of green chiles roasting

Bring us back to the present...and the season...

And then we lean back and think of all

The fun things about autumn...like

Cold nights in front of the fireplace,

Reading under a cozy quilt

With cold winds howling around the corner

Of the house....

A jig- saw puzzle over there in the corner

On a card table---everyone who passes by

Bends over and adds a piece to the tree...

Maybe a good old game of Scrabble...

On your worn-out fifty year old set...

Or how about getting serious and doing

A round of Trivial Pursuit 

With the Beloved Editor....

Going through old photo albums in your

Attic, with the wind telling you of long-past

things as it blows through that little space

at the bottom of the window...which you

leave in order to get that lonesome moaning 

sound of the wind....

Who can ever forget those smells of oak and

Pinon burning in fireplaces all over town!  

Leaves scurrying, eagerly headed somewhere...

Or how about a bowl of hot chili or stew

and cornbread, on a cool night, after work?

Or shall we make that---cabbage stew?!

Then there's football, tailgating, Little League,

A cup of hot chocolate after walking the dog...

We can't wait! For the the first norther and big

Wind, that sends all colors of leaves scooting

along the curbs! It's all coming before we

know it!

O, the eternal light of fall days!

When I leave this world, I think I will miss...

autumn the most.

********30*******

BY MIL

8/16/13

"MY DARLING CLEMENTINE"

NEVER TO BE FORGOTTEN---MY FIRST DRIVE-IN MOVIE!
**********************************************

It came to that drive-in movie theater there, just south of
Clovis, late '46 or '47---John Ford's "MY DARLING
CLEMENTINE."

I have never forgotten that movie! It was a gripping western.
The "dark, rustic" treatment of the filming set it apart,
giving it character, mood, and an "old timey" feeling, like
aged wine or something. Patina...maybe...

Just looking at it, you felt it had been filmed in 1875...or
you were being carried back in time...

One admirer and receiver says: "Ford foregoes the chatty
dialogue."

He further says: "Every scene is caught in midstream, in
the act and in motion! Damn, it seems so fresh!"

It was said to be "the western all others imitate."

Who can ever forget the outdoor dance scene where
Henry Fonda and Linda Darnell very properly and
gracefully square off in what I thought was a schottische
but may have been a square dance. One reviewer
called it "an 'aw shucks' square dance beneath Old
Glorys."

The movie is actually the story of the famous fight
at the O.K. Corral. Henry Fonda, Tim Holt and others
are the Earps and Walter Brennan, Grant Withers,
and gang play the Clantons. Victor Mature plays
Doc Holliday.

We who love the old westerns owe much to John Ford,
a director who had a sentimental streak and old
American music and ballads in his soul. Just check
his westerns...and the music:

"Young Mr. Lincoln"
"Grapes of Wrath"
"Stagecoach"
"The Searchers"
"She Wore A Yellow Ribbon"
"Rio Grande"
"The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance"

In college, I procured a ukulele, and being somewhat
talented vocally,  proceeded to serenade my dates.
At least some of them. "Oh My Darling, Clementine"
was one of my songs. It had only two chord
changes, which allowed me to give attention to my date.

Intending to quote the words to my reader, alas I found
that there are eighteen stanzas! Well, here are two
that I liked:

"Light she was and like a fairy
And her shoes were number nine,
Herring boxes without topses
Sandals were for Clementine.

How I missed her, how I missed her,
How I missed my Clementine!
Till I kissed her little sister
And forgot my Clementine.

Chorus:
Oh my darling, oh my darling.
Oh my darling Clementine;
You are lost and gone forever,
Dreadful sorry, Clementine.

I never knew a girl in my life with the name Clementine.
Winston Churchill's famous wife had that name.

I miss the old drive-in movies and the simpler times
when they existed. I wrote a post on the subject a year
or two ago.There are still several hundred extant in the
U.S. With the number of kooks we have running around,
I would go armed. Too easy to hi-jack a car out there.

It's time---we're going to order Henry Fonda's movie
"MY DARLING CLEMENTINE" from Netflix. I must see it...
one more time.

Don't miss this 9 minute clip from the movie:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1WXwO7Hqluo&feature=youtube_gdata_player

*********30********
BY MIL
10/20/13



Sent from my iPad

AUTUMN TIME

HE SAW....THAT "IT WAS GOOD"
*********************************

I wonder if God created
The world
In Autumn Time....

Maybe first He did
Some trial-acres
Somewhere---
Sort of a cosmic
"Back-Forty..."

And to practice
With the LIGHT a bit
And seasons....
Starting out with
Medium-size trees
Shrubs, and foliage,
Aging and yellowing
The leaves,
Cleverly....
"Autumn-style."

People do test-things.
Where did that idea
Come from?
They do test strips
In the darkroom...
Sample cakes
In the oven.

It gave God
A chance
To play with light
And mist...
Almost like
Practice strokes
On a canvas.

Light...
Who'd have ever
thought of light?

Or trees
Or leaves
Changing color?
Or water
To wet the ground.

Who'd have ever
Thought of birds
And flowers
Wind and clouds
Mountains and streams...

Baby ducks,
Baby chicks,
Hummingbirds
Little turtles---

And us---
Who'd ever have thought
Of us...biggest
Problems in the universe,

Or soft, big-eyed
Cuddly, clumsy
wonderful baby children...

Hearth, and homes
And wives?

God
That's Who
And maybe
He started it all
In autumn time.

********30*******
BY MIL
10/19/13

Sent from my iPad

"THE DAY OUR MOUSE UP AND DIED"

A MODERN-DAY COMPUTER SAGA

"I'M MAD AT DELL...AND I'M NOT GONNA TAKE IT

ANYMORE!"

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

You'd think, wouldn't you, that the mere purchase of a new

computer would be "a piece of cake"--- "a big bite out of a

juicy apple," or some other nice metaphor!

NOT! You've got to set them up, learn how they work, and

then the biggie: recover "tons" of photos, family history, 

documents, recipes, miscellaneous minutiae, and various

other unremembered items...ad infinitum (and likely nauseum),

from your old computer!

For you see, our old Dell PC, having actually lived beyond its

allotted years (whatever they are), was filled with information

and data to the point that it was balking. It was tired. It was

slow.....................................you had to wait for it. It was a bit

like some old timers I know. It seemed to forget stuff.

We even got worried and joined "That Great Carbonite Club

in the Cloud," for a fee, of course. Whether our info stays

there, or floats away, is yet to be ascertained.

I knew we were in computer trouble, big-time, when I drove

into the driveway one day, and the Beloved Editor (doing her
best Peter Finch imitation from the movie "Network"), stuck her
head out a window and screamed---"I'm mad at Dell, and I'm
not gonna take it anymore!"

One morning, alas, our Dell died. just up and died. I mean---

it wouldn't even turn on. To tell the truth, it had been a real

trooper...had been even splendid in its younger days. It 

deserves our grateful appreciation...in spite of later frustrations.

So with these prelims, hereby hangs a further tale.

I, a totally illiterate-computer-dummy, a non-techie, saw an
iPad Christmas of 2010, and immediately said:"I want one of
those!" My wife loved it so much that I got her one, Christmas
of 2012.

Our iPad experiences, plus our reading of Steve Job's 
biography, plus the advice of many friends, led us to become
Apple enthusiasts! 

A mere several days after the day our Dell died, she came

home with a big box, containing our new Apple iMac. We

wrestled it into the house, and set it up in the den, so I 

wouldn't be a computer widower as she was learning the
ropes.

Uh oh, now a new learning curve was coming up. 

So far she has been to four classes at the Apple store.

Once she took the new iMac with her down there, as if to

the ER. Then on return home, it wouldn't come on. Like

new parents, we were very worried, but it finally did---just

a new computer asserting its independence!

There in the den she has been spending hours of learning,

experimenting, setting up "files," attempting to recover 

lost data from "Carbonite," as well as all the other things

involved in getting used to the new iMac.

I am accustomed to all kinds of verbal lingo as she meets

the challenges and frustrations: "Oops!" "What in the world?"

"Are You KIdding Me?" "Yay!" "Would you believe...?!"
"This is totally alien territory!"

But a CRISIS WAS LOOMING...sit down dear reader, for 

this one. And let me remind you, that the Beloved Editor---

I consider to be a computer expert of the First Magnitude.

That is what makes this tale so strange.

One night, recently, she sat down to do computer stuff,

and suddenly she cried out: "Oh, oh, no! OUR MOUSE

IS DEAD! It won't work. Oh wait, it's moving, but jumping
around and doing weird things--- every-thing is all 
"cater-wompus-like!"  

After working with it a while, she said: "Well, the 'magic mouse' 
is shot,"and a brand new one at that. I'll just have to use the
trackpad 'til I can get a new one."  With that, she shut down the
computer with the thought of addressing the problem another
day.

Dear reader, I know you are on tenterhooks to learn

the outcome of this serious dilemma! Well, I forgot

all about that mouse problem overnight and was having

coffee the next morning when my wife came walking

into the kitchen looking a bit "sheepish." She said: "Well,

the mouse wasn't dead after all!  It was me! I goofed up

last night---I had the mouse turned the wrong direction! It
works fine. Our mouse is ALIVE!"

There are times when husbands know instinctively, not

to talk.

I nodded, lovingly.

Stay tuned...

*******30*******

BY MIL

10/17/13

BOB'S RESPONSE TO "GO-TO" COFFEE POT

***************************************
"I GET MY ALLSUP'S FOR A QUARTER!"
***************************************
by "Country Boy Bob",  guest writer

About 15-20 years ago, I quit drinking coffee------cold turkey.    The stuff gave me acid reflux and I just had to stop.   For many years the only coffee that I would drink was when I would go fishing.   Oh, it was so good on those early cool mornings out by the lake when you would build a fire and make coffee.   I would use a tin can or a little pan....fill it with water and dump some coffee in the water and heat it until it boiled.    Wow,  give it a few minutes for the grounds to settle-----now that was coffee.   It would make the hair stand up on your chest and it would last all day.   I think that someone told me if you would put a few egg shells in that coffee while it was heating that the grounds would settle immediately.   Don’t know if it worked, never tried it-----actually I kinda enjoyed chomping on a few of those grounds.  

 

Talking about your 5 cent Whataburger cup reminds me of my 25-cent Allsup's cup.  I have about 3 of those cups that I bought at garage sales.  They are about 25-30 years old and they will still honor them.   

A few years ago I started riding my bike to Allsup's every morning and get a cup of cappuccino.   Cappuccino is a little sweet so I mix it with coffee.   All the girls at Allsups know me and I am sure that they chuckle about that old tight -wad with the 25 cent cup.   They don’t even have a 25 cent refill button.   If they did it correctly, they would have to fill a coupon for the difference between regular price, but that takes a lot of time.   They have a 25 cent button for ice-----so they just ring it up as ice and tell the new employees to do so and get that old man out of here.  

Ain’t getting old fun.   If I ever spend more than a quarter at Allsup's the girls faint and razz me:  “Are you going to spend more that a quarter?”  When I leave, since I am riding my bicycle, when I get out in the parking lot, I look around to see if anyone has dropped a couple pennies.  Yea, I always pick them up.  One day I found a quarter and a dime and a penny-----whoa.....paid for my cappuccino and made a profit! ! ! !

 

But I have started drinking coffee again---Folgers, decaf, dark roast-----now more acid reflux.   Just enjoy it as you suggested.   Really enjoyed your coffee post.  Can’t imagine anyone coming up with so many details---but you did it.   Have a great week,     Bob

 

 -----30-----
for MIL'S
Bobby Joe Snipes
guest writer

THAT BIG OAK TREE

THAT BIG OAK TREE

  By Betty Keyes Danielson,

  Albuquerque Writer

I see a big oak tree,

  it's branches reaching to the sky.

This big oak calls to me

  to soar up very high.

I shall throw a rope up over

  to make of it a swing.

I could fly up high above the clover

  like a bird with outstretched wing.

I will be content to lie

  under the big oak tree.

I'll dream of days gone by

  and listen to the hum of bees.

Time has taken a toll on me

  with days now  long gone by.

But I do clearly see

  in my dreams l shall fly.

 ************************

   FOR MIL'S...

   10/12/13

   Betty Keyes Danielson is an acclaimed historian and

   writer. She has been a personal friend for over fifty

   years. We worked together on many church projects

   with me as photographer.