Thursday, January 30, 2014

O, WHEN I WAS EIGHT YEARS OLD!





O, when I was eight
    I remember
How I dreaded getting old!
    I had heard of teen-age
kids, visiting the dentist
    or the doctor, and
getting wisdom teeth pulled
    or shots...

(I didn't like the clinky chrome
    devices lying around on
slinky trays--then-- in doctors'
    offices--and I still don't.)

When I was eight, I wanted a
    birthday party, like
Joe, Bob, Charles, and Mary---
    One where you drop clothespins
into a milk bottle, like a bombing plane!
    But my parents worked, and
there was no time for parties.

Now it is seventy-two years later
    and I'm ten-times-eight old.
I have lived 26.280 days since
    that eighth birthday.
Yes, the earth has rotated countless
    times since then.

Since then I have---
    worked many days, driven many
miles, met a lot of good people,
    met some strange ones, too---
I have mowed many lawns, I have
    cooked many eggs, eaten a lot
of hamburgers, directed children's
    choirs, directed adult choirs,
sung solos...
    I have watched many movies,
read scores of books...I have tried
    to do good deeds and set
an example.

Now tomorrow is my eightieth birthday---
    Ten times when I was eight...
I no longer ride a bicycle, roller skate,
    read comic books, see double
features at the Lyceum on Saturday
    afternoons, or get a 20 cent ham
salad sandwich at Woolworth afterward---

I don't play cowboys and Indians anymore,
    in that neat alley behind our Reid house...
or play Sergeant York with my Daisy
    Red Ryder BB gun...
I don't hunt for "translers" or shoot basketball
    goals with Country Boy Bob...

I don't, when I'm sick, stay home from school,
    dump my Tinkertoys and Lincoln Logs
in the floor, drink a Delaware Punch and
    listen to "Queen For A Day" on KICA Radio.

I don't read "Dave Dawson In the R.A.F."
    anymore, and tho' I have the complete
set of Zane Gray, I mostly only pick up
    "Riders of the Purple Sage"---
now and then.

Yes, I'll be eighty tomorrow and I'll admit,
    I do a right smart of remembering
old days, old times, old friends.
    After all, wasn't it in that wise and
pithy show, "Downton Abbey," that
    Carson, in his deep bass voice
said: "The business of life is the
    acquisition of memories. In the end
that's all there is."

I write about those things and find that
    others write back about them.

We wonder: Why We here? After all,
    in the great cosmic scheme of
time with no beginning and no end,
    we're certainly the late-comers on
the scene...and ever since we got here,
    we have been considerable
trouble for the Creator.
   He must have really loved and
wanted us.

Anyway, eighty tomorrow and the
    Beloved Editor said: "Well, for
sure, you're a gonna have ONE
    birthday party in your life. I'm
gonna see to it!"

"No, No," I said. "I wanted one when
     I was eight...but not now...
It's too late."

But maybe...could we make up a big
    pot of chili tomorrow...
and have some good old Oscar Meyer
    HOT DOGS!" (with onion)

*********30*******
BY MIL
01/30/14
















Monday, January 27, 2014

THE PLEASANT INN



There was once a little place in Clovis
   called "The Pleasant Inn."
It was right across from Clovis Memorial
   Hospital, on the east side of Thornton...
Up there toward Todd's house.

It is  an important, likely-overlooked piece
   of Clovis history, as well as
Americana.

Its main efficacy to us kids was---that it
   was close to our homes---
(There were far more places with better
   selections of candy!)
But Pleasant Inn was quick and handy!

If you scrounged a dime from your mama
   on a hot summer day,
Or found a nickel in the alley---
   (It happened...there was money on the
ground in the forties)
   You could be over to the Pleasant Inn
in nothing flat!

I found more money (in life) in that two
   block area
than anywhere else---even walking the
   hospital's low rock fence...
or at that corner at 12th and Reid
   where the asphalt was badly patched---
and bumpy, there seemed to always be
   coins there.
I don't know who all lost 'em,
   but I know who found 'em.

Now the Pleasant Inn was not conceived
   nor established as a candy store
for little kids...
   It had only a small wire rack for holding
kids' stuff...with Tom's peanuts, Tom's
   peanut butter crackers (4), a few
candy bars, and I remember Bit 'O Honeys,
  and there was a five cent
potato chip rack.

But they had a coke box, and with an empty
   bottle, and five cents, you could
walk out with a big twelve ounce Pepsi Cola!
   ("Rubi-da-dot-ta...rubi-da-dot-ta...
Pepsi Cola hits the spot...twelve full ounces
   that's a lot...") Remember that jingle?

The Pleasant inn had two or three  dining
   tables, and a little grill, for cooking---
I once saw a guy eating a hamburger
   in there...but it never occurred to us kids:
that place (it had a second story) was there
   for people to stay, who had sick family
members, across the street
   in the hospital.

(The Clovis Memorial Hospital, two blocks
   from our house, was built about '39.
With its nice white brick, it was
   an imposing building of
four or five stories.)

A lot of small things---people, buildings,
   places, events go into making up
history, and I judge that more of
   them are lost...than ever recorded.

So this all happened to little kids, in
   a small town, in the forties---
A favorite place of ours,, in a quiet
    neighborhood... a place even
today, fondly remembered...by us,
    The Pleasant Inn, on Thornton,
up there toward Todd's house.

*******30******
BY MIL
01/26/14

Sunday, January 26, 2014

WYLIE DROPPED BY AGAIN





Wylie came by again,
  yesterday.

We were glad!

He had coffee and pecan-
swirl toast (buttered),

with me, and the
    Beloved Editor.

We talked about 
  everything.

Wylie reads. He knows
  a lot of stuff.

He's down-to-earth,
  a non-pretentious
    fellow...

Told us about that
  massive candy/gum
    drop, on tiny
       parachutes 

to hungry little German
  kids

during the Berlin
  Airlift, 1948.

They're making a 
  movie about it.

We talked about
  old Clovis times...

and all the farm kids
  out north of
   town.

the Taylors, the Collinses,
  Jennings, Goars,
   and others,

who lived along the Frio
  and Running Water
    Draws...

And yes, the Frio did
  "run backward" 
    once

when debris stacked up
  for two miles during
   a heavy rain and 
     hailstorm---

trees, limbs, bushes, weeds
  against the highway 
   bridge...damming water...
      hail was two feet deep
       in spots..

The subject of long-lost
  schools came up---
    Pleasant Hill
      and Claud...

   "Country Boy" once sold
      a photo of the school
        at Pleasant Hill...for
          quite a bit.

We discussed F-80 jets
  and rabbit-hunting
   in an F-100.

There was patriotic talk
  about our men
   during Viet Nam

who were imprisoned
  in the Hanoi
    Hilton...

How  each one was
  a "professor" of
   something, and
    taught it...

Logarithm tables were 
  compiled using 
   splinters of wood
     for pens

and ground up pills
  and water for ink,
   and TP for writing...

One used the tap code
  to write a whole
   book of poems...

remembered by many
  and compiled after
    release. We have it.

A former captive told Wylie: 
  "In that situation,
    all you have
      is time."

Fitting, I think, to
  remember our heroes
    and talk about them
      often.

Along that line, the 
  Beloved Editor just
   read

"A Higher Call," a B-17
   story and we discussed
     that wonderful book,
       and those men.

We talked about 
  so many things...

You want to have a good
  talk...about things 
    American---

Invite Wylie over.

Alas, the time flew,
  the coffee was 
   all gone...

and so was Wylie...
  until the next time.

(Wylie writes for
  MIL'S PLACE.)

********30******
BY MIL
01/25/14


Monday, January 20, 2014

AH...WHY DIDN'T THEY TELL ME?





These past months I've been reading
    POETS...
Robert Hass, Mary Oliver, T.S. Eliot,
    Marianne Moore, Emily Dickenson,
Robert Burns, William Wordsworth,
    John Donne, William Blake, and
taking a course in Shakespeare!

Have I understood all I've read?
    No, not all...
But that's not the point, is it?

I must tell you…
    There are some poets
that I simply cannot fathom.

Had a whole course in
     Robert Browning once-
In college.  He himself
     once confessed--
"When I wrote it, only God and I
     knew what it meant….
Now only God knows."

Do we understand everything
    there is to know---that is 
somewhere hidden in a great
    painting?

Do we understand all the chords
    and skill involved in the
great symphonies?

Maybe poetry is more important
    than we've ever thought.

It is for smoothing out the wrinkles
    in one's mind.
So that tomorrow...the thinking field
    is level...
Then we can think better, work better,
    write better...do everything better.

Poems will do it. Not only do they
    pluck heart-strings long silent...
oft-times...
    But because we are dealing with
unused, unthought of, unheard of
    word patterns...

as well as unthought-of thoughts..
    I say: poems will smooth
the wrinkles from our minds.

AH! Why didn't they tell me?!

Sooner.

********30*******
BY MIL
01/17/14



Saturday, January 18, 2014

"AULD LANG SYNE" FROM THE ATTIC





"SHOULD AULD ACQUAINTANCE BE FORGOT
    AND NEVER BROUGHT TO MIND....
SHOULD AULD ACQUAINTANCE BE FORGOT
    AND DAYS OF AULD LANG SYNE.."
******************************************************

On New Year's Day, just three days ago, I was
sitting up there, in my cozy attic---a fire was 
burning merrily in the little barrel wood stove,
threatening to drive me out. Two small logs 
work wonders in that stove!

I had just finished the final touches on my first
story of the new year--- "Our Stuff," and had
the old B@W TV tuned to the Rose Bowl 
Parade. The parade, with all those 
beautiful-colored roses was not much good in 
B@W, so my mind had strayed.

I was thinking, after my "stuff" story that 
maybe I, myself, should do a little New 
Year's clean-up, and was digging around in 
some old apple boxes, containing various 
kinds of junk. This one was full of high school
stuff.

Alas, there was no blizzard, rain, snow, fog
or mist to really "cozy up" my stay in the
attic that day---but good news: a cold thirty-
five mph wind was blowing---as usual in our
city. 

I always open the window a half inch at the
bottom and the wind was gusting around the 
corner of the house, and making those
marvelous wind sounds...which only the wind
can make...

The old beat up apple box had held my CHS
annuals, photos, clippings, and BDC paddle
longer than it had ever held apples. The old
BDC paddle which I made for initiation, still
held its varnish job after 65 years. It was not
a happy paddle, like most of my stuff being
"happy." It had beaten me black and blue!

I went through stacks of old high school
pictures. many made with my Clix-O-Flex
$5.95 camera, purchased at Thrifty Drug,
next-door to the Sunshine Theater. (Oh,
those were two great businesses and will
ever be a part of old Clovis in our memories!)

The wind was getting up more--moaning,
whispering, and telling me, in my mind, of
old days, old times. old friends...from long
ago...it was an "Auld Lang Syne" wind...
bringing to mind good times. Simpler times--
of our home town, and the good old
USA! You know the feeling those memories
bring, and I had it in the pit of my gut.

I got my last NEHI grape out of the little
fridge--one I'd been saving for a special
occasion--pried the lid off with a rusty
old "church key" hanging there on a nail,
and went and sat by the window...musing,
and sipping on my big grape drink...the
wind moaning through the window...into
my face...and I mused...

The next thing I knew, I was walking down
the sidewalk on Clovis Main Street, marveling
at those red bricks paving the street...I was
in front of Penney's and headed south by
the Lyceum, a 5@10 store, Barry Hardware.
Woolworth's, Clovis Printing Co., and good
old Montgomery Ward.

I had passed up, in my reverie-walk, going
into Woolworth's for a 20 cent ham salad
sandwich; now I crossed Main street at Grand
and going south, passed Janeway Drug and
stifled my urge for a Coney Island hot dog,
a door or two south.

Passing Mesa Theater (a pretty nice theater
once, with a fine concession room), I looked
up at Hotel Clovis--the defining building of
Clovis' skyline.

Seeing good old Busy Bee Cafe, there on the
corner of Second and Main, was the last
straw---how many times did a bunch of us kids
go in there after a cold football game and get 
hamburgers and coffee! Once after a Rattler
game--- so Busy Bee must have stayed open
on Armistice Days.

I went in there and got a booth toward
the back, where we kids always sat, and in my 
mind, spent a nice time...eating a burger 
and drinking my coffee...

Now my mind was quickly brought back to 
the present, as I had uncovered in my 
memory box some recent photos. I was 
holding one of Levi Brake, Art Snipes, and
me, made in August of 2011, when Levi
came to Albuquerque for a visit.

Here were two of my closest friends in life.
I met Art (and his little brother Bob) when
we were in La Casita. We soon moved a
block from them. We played all kinds of ball;
played army, built mud forts, played marbles,
fished for "translers," made model airplanes,
traded comic books, and eventually were 
Boy Scouts together. We moved up on Axtell
about high school time, close to Levi's house.

Levi and I became fast friends. We went to the
same church, sang bass in the choir, worked
in the summers at church camp; in CHS we 
were in BDC, boys' chorus, boys' quartet and 
octet. We both drove  tractors and wheat trucks 
in the summers. He began driving a bit before any
of us and we drove all over town, dragging Main
and jumping the Santa Fe Dip west of town.

We often took in movies in Portales and Melrose
and played pool in Texico. We frequented that
little greasy spoon cafe a half block south of 
Gateway Auto, drinking coffee, playing the 
pinball machine, and listening to the jukebox.

These two friends and I graduated from old CHS
in the late spring of 1951. It seemed that, as soon
as school was out, we each went our own ways.
I was off at church camp several weeks and 
driving a tractor and wheat truck ...and it seemed 
like the next thing I knew, both of my friends had
married!

I saw both of them in later years from time to time at
class reunions or I'd drop by OK Rubber WELDERS
for a visit with Art. Levi became a world citizen,
working at various locales around the globe--China,
India, and Brazil. He'd write once in awhile, in 
Spanish; it reminded me of our days in Dora Russell's
Spanish Three class.

Of all the unexpected things, Art who lived one block
from me in the forties in Clovis, in 2000 moved into
a house three blocks away from us in Albuquerque.

It was in this house that the photo above was taken
when Levi visited us in 2011. I'm glad I found this 
picture! Brought back old times!

As I sat there three days ago, on New Year's ,
looking out my attic window, and thinking about
"auld acquaintances," I remembered a lot of other
fine friends from CHS---some no longer with us.
There were a lot of them---Noel, Engle, Whatley,
and so many more---I can't even begin to name.  
them all...

Oops. my NEHI grape is empty...and my, I'm not
through remembering. This search through the old
apple box has been fun!

But it's getting colder and I'm kinda hungry. I think 
I'll open a can of tomato soup, put it in my heavy
mug, heat it in my little microwave oven over there,
and sit and think some more---maybe about some
of the great girls we had in our class of 1951,
and then---who knows---maybe our fine teachers,
if my hot soup holds out!

Yes, that's what I'll do. Sip my hot tomato soup...
and then maybe watch some football. My, what a
great New Year's!


Levi, Art and Mil
*******30******
BY MIL
01/04/14







Saturday, January 11, 2014

"I HAVE NEVER BEEN MUCH FOND OF ANTS"



I have never 
  been much fond
     of ants.

Yet they are
  much extolled
     and touted...

by people, 
  by cognoscenti 
     who know stuff
       and have studied
          ants.

"Ants are industrious."
  "Ants are busy."
      "Ants are strong."

Those little miraculous 
  tiny bodies
     and skinny legs

are much stronger
  ounce for ounce
     than any human,

and what kind of skilled
    Creator could devise
       little brains, eyes,
         digestive systems
           and likely... noses!

(And let's not forget
   their stingers!)

"You should not
    carelessly step on an
      ant," it's been said.

Mea culpa, for when
    I was five...
       back then

there were ants everywhere
    in the forties
        (things were wilder),

I'm talkin' about big beds
    of ants, hundreds...
        big red ones!

Yes, when I was five
    in Clovis, on that hot
        sidewalk on West Grand,
          all summer long,
           I squashed them...

with the big round front wheel
   of my jumbo 
        lime-green tricycle!

For when I was three years old
    living down there in 
      sandy Dawson County.
        south of Lubbock

I blundered into a big ant bed,
    "working alive" with 
        big red 'uns...and
          they ate me up!

My little body was all swelled up,
    I had red "cure-chrome" 
       spots all over, like I
          had measles, 
           and I was sick.

So I got even, with my tricycle...
   many times over! Though
     they were different ants

it didn't matter to me. After all,
   don't they say: "Revenge is
       best served...as a 
             cold dish."

You see, I hadn't yet learned
    the big lesson of life...
       and the hardest----

Forgiveness.

********30******
BY MIL
01/11/14

Thursday, January 9, 2014

OUR "STUFF"



"THE WORLD IS TOO MUCH WITH US;
LATE AND SOON, GETTING AND
SPENDING WE LAY WASTE OUR POWER."
                -----William Wordsworth
Little folks arrive here on this planet
    with absolutely no stuff.

People who love them in their
    infancy and helplessness,
          awed by their cuteness,

help them along by
    providing them
         stuff....

like Pampers and Pablum
     Gerber's and pacifiers
          and little pajamas
               with feet, called
                     "onesies."
          and little cribs to sleep in,
                        cozily.

At age six we visit  Woolworth's
    and see stuff that
         we want
      and at school,
          stuff the other 
         kids have...

It's the beginning of our life-long
    desire and drive
          to acquire
             "stuff!"

And it's not just that we
    want it---it's that
        we need it...
like it always is in life...
    we must have it!
        (We think)
             
                 As a boy...
I needed a football, a ball glove...
    and al least one baseball
        not wrapped in black
             friction tape.

I needed a little pair of lace-up
         hunting boots...with
         the cool knife pouch
           on the right boot!

I needed some "Dave Dawson
    In the R.A.F." books---
         some model airplanes:
         P-40's, P-38's, and
              the new P-51.

I needed some new skates
    so I could skate by
  Priscilla Lane's house,
       the movie star,
              who lived
          four doors
             north!

One learns at an early age,
    To get stuff, you must
          have a "cash flow..."

flowing toward you....
    a major thing
     you find out
          in life.

I'd push my push-mower all
    over the neighborhood
         hoping to mow
              a lawn

and earn a Walking Liberty
    half dollar! My reader---
         did you also keep
             your eyes open
                  for jobs...
       ...when you were a kid?
        

As we get older, and have families
         our need for stuff only
         increases! We have to
             work all the time.

We have learned: nothing is free.
    "There is no free lunch."
         No work---no stuff!

The comedian joked about it:
    He said: "You have to have
         a house with a roof---
              just to cover
               your stuff!"

One wonders---about Thoreau
    at Walden Pond...and
         Whitman, the poet,
          and Edward Abbey...
           did they have much
                     stuff?

As one gets older, he begins to
    think: what would it be like
         not to have any stuff?

Maybe for a man: couple pair of
    Levi pants....two shirts...
        a denim jacket, with an
           old blanket lining---
             a big pile of books,
                your leather notebook,
              your Churchill pen
                 and your iPad?
                Would you miss
                       your "stuff?"

     There is a character in literature---
       Jack Reacher---who has no stuff!
          No home, no car, no payments,
           No insurance, no bills, 
           No bank account, no fridge,
            No washer and dryer; he
              has no credit card, no
            change of clothes...
                 and no suitcase!

    He changes his clothes every three days---
         Buys new ones at surplus stores,
           Tosses the dirty ones...into the
                 nearest trash bin...lives
                   in cheap motels, and
                    has only one bit of
                         "luggage..."
                       a toothbrush.

Can we assume: The more stuff we
     acquire, the happier we'll be?

Where does all the stuff on earth come
    from? "Oh, from China," you say.
         No...isn't it from out of the
                 Earth, itself?

At the beginning of 2014 may be a good
    time to inventory our stuff and
          see what new stuff
                     we need...
              or maybe give away some...
                    
and to think of values which may be
    more important, like Love,
         Duty, Service, Charity,
             Unselfishness,
              and Sacrifice, 
                    

*******30*******
BY MIL

01/03/14