Broderick Crawford and Cheese

Today is October 4th, or as my old friends and I referred to it, Broderick Crawford Day.  Our greatest recollection of the actor was his special way of barking "10-4" into the microphone of his police radio in the TV series "Highway Patrol".

He played many other parts on the stage and in Hollywood winning an Oscar for Best Actor in 1949 for All the Kings Men. He played in many roles and formats for over 50 years everything from vaudeville and radio, to drama, and even an episode of Saturday Night Live back in the 70's.  "Twenty-One-Fifty to Headquarters!" was perhaps better known than our "10-4" for his Highway Patrol years.

 Mr. Crawford had one of those faces you don't forget. Probably not handsome, but one that had seen a lot of living.

 
                            

Cheese! Fellow blogger Pearl inspired me with one of her bus/bus stop stories. This one was about finding string cheese in her purse. Ah, the things hunger will drive you to looking for. The story reminded me that I have seen string cheese come out of many Minnesota purses over the years. Is this one of those mysteries about what women, especially Midwestern ones, carry in their purse? About half of Minnesotans (generally the ones with deeper voices) wonder about this except maybe the ones that carry "European Shoulder Bags". I imagined that women carry a basic survival kit in there that can include, depending on age and musical preferences, things like food, drink, a change of underwear, various prescription and OTC meds, writing utensils, phones, ipad, ipod, money, first aid items, keys to all kinds of things, and in Pearl's case, string cheese. Being from just south of Philadelphia I imagined women there keeping Cream Cheese in reserve for emergencies. In Upstate New York you might find a wedge of Herkimer County Cheddar or in a  Vermont purse, some delicious Jersey or goat milk cheese.

Personally, I will carry a more masculine purse. It's actually a 1981 vintage Igloo cooler that has most of the above mentioned items, less the ipad and iphone, along with some old grocery lists and receipts for stuff I don't remember buying. And my lunch on most days.

And on the way into work this morning... 

The sunsets, when we actually have them, have been pretty nice, too.

                                                                                                                                                                   

Rant

Normally I don't discuss politics very much here, not that I don't have strong opinions and have never missed a chance to vote since I was old enough. However, even I will open my mouth and speak up when the morons in Washington D.C. can't do their jobs. I'm sorry, did I say morons? I don't mean to offend actual morons out there as they are much more useful than the human sludge that is our "leadership" in our nation's capital.

I feel responsible for voting for these idiots all these years as I have watched our country slowly go down the road to third world status. We used to be great and show the world what was possible with our ingenuity. We had all kinds of people with great ideas and aspirations and the will to implement great things. We would all get on the bandwagon and get things done. We had skilled labor that was paid enough to feed their families well and an educational system that brought people in from all over the world to participate in it and either stay and help or take things back to the rest of the world to make it a better place.

We have become the bully on the block that everyone laughs at. He is big, strong, and obnoxious, but unbelievably stupid and short sighted and has no idea how to make it in the real world.

The Capital is full of self-serving, egotistical, puffed up bozos (no offense to the real Bozo)  who couldn't decide whether or not to change a diaper full of poop even if it was curling their nose hairs. I almost died from laughing when I heard a politician in the state next door say how difficult it was to raise a family on a $174,000 salary! He was totally serious! "Whadda maroon!" as Bugs Bunny would say. Even that "wascally wabbit" and his nemesis Elmer Fudd could at least resolve a situation.

I want to apologize for helping to elect some of these impotent blowhards in expensive suits. As a person responsible for this situation (all of us that vote are at least partly responsible) I call for an end to this broken system and look for fresh ideas that will live up to the ideals of our founders. The current system is in "Fail" mode and I know we the people can do better. I think the time is right to throw the bums out before they do any more harm.

As there are more talented and smart people all around the blogosphere this little rant will be lost in the melee and I hope something better comes of it all. It's time to join forces and end the idiocracy that governs this nation.

Thank you, I'll go now and I will be back with more of the usual stuff (unless I get swept up in the new revolution).

P.S. I'll bet you can't even get a copy of this from the NSA until congress gets up off its collective ass.

Who do you represent?

On the way to work this morning I heard the radio host ask a question of the interviewee, "Who do you represent?" I don't know what the answer was because in my head (that scary place, again) I heard "We represent the Lullaby League, the Lullaby League...", and then "We represent the Lollipop Guild, the Lollipop Guild.... which took me right to Munchkin Land.

I started thinking about The Wizard of Oz (the 1939 Judy Garland movie version) and thought about how pervasive it has become in our culture. For example, when our dog Mandy sticks to me like glue and when  the ladies refer to something I should do they often add "and your little dog, too" in that Wicked Witch of the West voice we all know and love.

There are other lines from that movie that I hear from time to time like "Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain" or "Lions and tigers and bears, oh, my!" often with different subjects. "Follow the yellow brick road" is another great adaptable piece of advice.  "Toto, I have a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore" My personal favorite is this,
(Scarecrow)
I could wile away the hours
Conferrin' with the flowers
Consultin' with the rain
And my head I'd be scratchin'
While my thoughts were busy hatchin'
If I only had a brain

I'd unravel any riddle
For any individ'le
In trouble or in pain

(Dorothy)
With the thoughts you'd be thinkin'
You could be another Lincoln
If you only had a brain

(Scarecrow)
Oh, I would tell you why
The ocean's near the shore
I could think of things I never thunk before
And then I'd sit and think some more

I would not be just a nuffin'
My head all full of stuffin'
My heart all full of pain
I would dance and be merry
Life would be a ding-a-derry
If I only had a brain

I saw two of the pikes carried by the Winkies (“O-Ee-Yoh! Eoh-ho!" or something like that), the wicked witch's guards, be appraised for $15,000 each on Antiques Roadshow the other day. The flying monkeys scared the crap out of me when I was 5 and it was probably 10 years before I could watch that part again.

This year was the 75th anniversary of the movie and hopefully, there was a special celebration at the Judy Garland Museum in Grand Rapids, Minnesota. It is Judy's (Francis Gumm) childhood home, and I am ashamed to say I have never been there. And then this evening what should I see?

At least there was no tornado.

Songs in the head

I knew it was going to be a strange day when I start out with Simon and Garfunkel's "The Boxer"  and a few minutes later the theme song from the George of the Jungle cartoon show.

What makes that happen? They weren't "ear worms" as I understand those. To me an ear worm can't be easily gotten rid of except to sing it to someone and thereby passing it on.

And then there are the misheard lyrics. Most are pretty well known like Hendrix "'scuse me while I kiss this guy" or CCR's "there's a bathroom on the right". There are more obscure ones like the Association's "Windy". The real lyric is "Who's sweepin' down to capture a moment" but sometimes heard as, " Who's creepin' out to capture a Mormon."

Or The Allman Brothers "Whippin Post" heard as "Sometimes I feel, sometimes I feel, Like I been tied to the fishin' pole".

David Bowie's Space Oddity, "And the papers want to know who shot you where." " Clown control to Mao Tse Tung".

Fleetwood Mac's Landslide, "I took my love, and I took it down", or was it " I took my love and I milked a cow". Or Bill Clinton's favorite, "Don't stop thinkin' about tomorrow" to "Don't stop thinkin' about your mama."

Back to Simon and Garfunkel. "And here's to you Mrs. Robinson, She's a slut, that's more than you should know."

There must be hundreds or thousands of these that are heard by everyone. After all it is better to make something up than just mumble your way through lyrics you just don't know. And what about all the foreign languages? They must have these, too!  Imagine a group like Led Zeppelin writing lyrics in Gaelic or Swahili.

Or maybe the Three Stooges "Swingin' The Alphabet".  Just a musical interlude for your listening pleasure. Really!

Yes, it's true I sometimes slip back into something less mature and childish than most people are used to seeing, but even I enjoy a good fart joke now and then. I am not always the worldly intellectual scholar that you see before you (Don't read that with a mouthful of coffee...Ooops! Too late!). Maybe I'll pass for normal by the weekend.

Summer slowly slips away

The ships on the big lake are starting to hug the shore, more than before, in anticipation of the North Wind. The slowly setting sun gleams on the forecastle (fo'c'sle) as the ship is upbound for Duluth. Pardon my alliteration. Must be reading too much poetry lately.

Another sign of impending winter is the hot rods and classic cars getting out for one last joy ride before the highway departments start salting the roads. One of the reps that calls on us at work brought his Cadillac up the shore a few days ago.

Speaking of work, I got to take a drive up the Gunflint Trail (one of the three or so paved roads in the county) to fix a minor problem and stopped on the way down to take a look at the change of colors.

In another week or so we will be at the peak of change.

Yesterday the Cooker and I took a stroll through the woods looking for any mushrooms that might have made themselves available after the recent rains. We found woods sculpture that we had left behind at another time. I call this "Bolt on a Stump" because it's a bolt on a stump. Clever, eh?

And then the Cooker left her implements in a pile on the trail while she went to peruse a wooded hillside for some fungal treasure. I call this still life "Basket and Walking Stick". Pretty clever again, don't you think?

We never did find any edibles, but did see some interesting 'shrooms like this on the butt of an old log. These are tiny as the log is only about 6" (15.24cm) in diameter. Cool colors complete the composition. Click on it to see the variety.

 Something this past week brought to mind a poem from T.S. Eliot called "Dry Salvages". It was the death of an old friend with whom I had reconnected with a few years ago and got to see at my college reunion a few months ago. There were a few lines toward the end of that poem that took me back to our college days.

For most of us, there is only the unattended
Moment, the moment in and out of time,
The distraction fit, lost in a shaft of sunlight,
The wild thyme unseen, or the winter lightning
Or the waterfall, or music heard so deeply
That it is not heard at all, but you are the music
While the music lasts.

Fall Fair

It’s Fair time around much of North America. Some were earlier in the summer and some just finished.  In Minnesota the state fair is a big thing. I have been a few times, but it is far away and I have gotten just a little agoraphobic in my later years. I can handle being in the vicinity of large crowds, but when the crowd picks you up like a leaf on a river you just have to go along for the ride. I don’t like that part. In recent years I have opted for smaller venues. I am much more likely to attend the Hymers Fall Fair located west of Thunder Bay, Ontario in the village of (wait for it…) Hymers. 

 It is a quaint little agricultural fair with no midway or beer garden. There is some good food available as well as junk food, but no deep fried anything-on-a-stick.   

We usually go for the first of the two day fair. That is when they have the light horse events. The heavy horse events are the second day. It is fun to watch the kids do some amazing things on their trusty steeds. It is a fairly low key competition, but a good practice experience for those who want to go on to bigger and better things. 

 

It is the stuff of dreams for a lot of young girls. If young boys knew more about the girl/horse thing there would be a lot more boys out in the arena waiting for their future “buckle bunnies” to get old enough to date. 

One of my favorite displays is from the "Tired Iron Club". They find, salvage, and restore old engines of all sorts. Everything from pumps to chainsaws and generators, some of which are over a hundred years old. The noises the engines make are from the past and are often a bit comical by today's standards of mechanical sounds.

 They tend to put a smile on your face or cause you to think back and contemplate.

There are two stages for your entertainment and the bands are pretty good for the most part. About ten or fifteen years ago I could hear some very familiar instrumentals coming from the main stage. They were playing a bunch of songs from Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass. Guess what? It WAS the Tijuana Brass sans Alpert. They were older than I remember (Gee, so am I), but damn they were good! Here is that stage with one of the local bands.

There is a dog show of sorts and there are the usual cows, pigs, chickens, geese, goats, sheep, ducks, etc., for everyone, but some would rather just eat.

  

We came home with Canadian maple syrup which is better even than our local home brew, homemade cookies, and three pairs of really soft handmade wool socks for really cheap! 

Don't forget your Passport!

Geography is Destiny

A few days ago I went on a road trip south to Duluth to consult about a knee replacement. On the way I was listening to MPR when "Talking Volumes" came on the radio. I don't often get to listen to the radio during normal working hours and if I do it is just background noise. The speaker/interviewee was  Dr. Abraham Verghese and the interview was done at the Fitzgerald Theater in St.Paul (that bastion of culture) last October. Mostly they discussed his book "Cutting for Stone" which is a wonderful and best selling novel, but I am more impressed by the man himself. I would love to have him as a friend.

One of the points he brought up and getting from his own background is that geography is destiny. He mentions that Freud said "anatomy is destiny" and segued that into geography is destiny by mentioning all the important stuff near the birth canal and then to Napoleon's "geography is destiny" attribution. I may not have that exactly right as I am doing this from memory of a few days ago, but that was the gist of it in my mind. His changes in geography led him to where he is now and he used that journey as a basis for some of "Cutting for Stone". I listened intently, but kept wandering off to my own thoughts about this.

As the son of immigrants I have always been drawn back to "the old country" and wonder what life would have been like if I had grown up there.

My mother died about the time I turned three so I don't know much of what her life was like in the U.K. I never got the details my father was able to give me throughout my life. The bedtime stories he told me as a child were full of adventure with a little fantasy thrown in much as the stories of Iceland and Norway are often related. The characters were Per and Odd, boys not much older than myself so that I could relate. The plots I don't remember well, but the scenery and pictures he painted in my mind always took me to beautiful and rugged place.

Sometimes the stories would take me to ancient settlements in the viking age and voyages across the North Atlantic where fish was always plentiful. This is across the fjord from where my grandfather was born in Iceland.

Years later I would hear Led Zeppelin play "The Immigrant Song" and it would take me back to some of the places in the stories.

"We come from the land of the ice and snow,
From the midnight sun where the hot springs flow.
The hammer of the gods will drive our ships to new lands,"

And so I have often wondered what my life would have been like if my father had returned to Norway after my mother died. But he had carved out a life here and Norway was devastated from the War. His younger brothers returned after getting an advanced education and my father would return to his homeland every couple of years to visit his family.

Of course, the questions from my own life like what if I had stayed in Delaware or Minneapolis? How would my life have been different. I will never know because my geographical destiny brought me here to a beautiful place along the North Shore of Lake Superior and life has turned out the way it has because of where I am. At least I think so.

If you get a chance to read or hear Abraham Verghese, do take the time. He is a great believer in "Geography is Destiny" and he has certainly given me a reason to think about it. As Mr.Spock would have said, "Fascinating."