Sunday, August 2, 2020

Splashdown!

The astronauts have landed.
Bob and Doug are back on Earth.

Since I was in 6th grade, I have followed the space program avidly.

I am crying with joy for them.

Yay!

Wednesday, July 29, 2020

Do they still exist?

Another historical reminiscence.

Back in the day when the earth was young, my mother felt that since my older brother was getting Boys' Life magazine, I should also get a magazine, delivered to our house, wow, something to look forward to.

So, she signed me up for Jack and Jill magazine.
I LOVED it.
Every month, a magazine no one else in the family would get and read! Stories. Articles of great interest to someone who read voraciously every book she could get her hands on.

Baba Yaga. The Russian witch!
That's the only recurring story I remember off hand, but I loved it.
A witch who lived in a house with chicken legs on the bottom so it could move wherever she wanted to go.
Wow.

There was so much in those pages.

When I got into Girl Scouts for the several years I could, I also got American Girl magazine, which was explicitly for scouts. Good stuff in there, too, but either I grew out of it by 6th grade or it folded. Jack and Jill was discarded as childish. Too bad.

Now, there came a time, when my brother moved from Boys' Life to  Field and Stream. I don't think he got much out of it, and there wasn't the back page of jokes, but he got it. Maybe he liked the thought of hunting and fishing. Dunno. He liked knives, though.
Maybe it had something to do with the IDEA of hunting and fishing. He likes to surf fish now. Might be a  hangover from those long forgotten days.

But, when I hit middle school, and 12 or so, I got switched to TEEN magazine.
Oh, did that make me special or what?
Or what.
It had tips on make up and dresses and American Bandstand folks and movie stars. I remember it telling me that with my coloring, I ought to wear coral colored lipstick. Yes, that's what I got out of it.
But I did watch Bandstand after school...which is why I'm writing this today.

Whatever happened to  Arlene and Kenny? The two beautiful teens from Bandstand that EVERYBODY thought would get married and live happily ever after in Philadelphia?
Does anybody in this world know what happened to them?

I thought they were perfect. They danced together so well.
Ahhh. It had to be true love.

So...anybody?

Jack and Jill is still published online. Teen, also. I didn't bother looking up the guy magazines, but if anybody knows what happened to them, let me know.

Saturday, July 25, 2020

Summing up

I am sitting in quarantine.
We had to go to North Carolina for the annual family beach house thing. Even though we knew that when we came back to New Jersey, we'd have to spend 14 days in house, waiting for the plague to manifest itself in one or the other of us or both.
But we went.

We did not leave the beach house.
We did nothing. Herb didn't even go in the pool because it was 90 degrees or more every day.
So, actually, we paid about $2000 for nothing.

Not really true.
His mother managed to make it there, despite having had her kidneys reamed out the previous week.
She looked so pale and fragile, though her mind is sharp and she's voting Democrat. He kept telling her she had to live until November.

Amazing how many arseholes there are in North Carolina.
So many Trump signs.
Made me sick.

And, no Biden signs.
I have a feeling people were afraid if they posted their support for Mr. Biden, the trumpers would damage their cars or burn their houses.

And that, my friends, is THAT.

Friday, June 26, 2020

Worse? Who said it couldn't get worse?

The daughter, returning to her apt. via the NJ Parkway, just had her car rear-ended.
The whole back is smashed to the point where she can't open the rear hatch.

She claims to be okay.
She won't be tomorrow.

I have been in a terrible collision. I ended up in the hospital. My head connected with the windshield. My hands broke the steering wheel while trying to keep myself  from going completely through the windshield. My knee got bunged up.
Every bone in my body hurt, but my arms were the worst.

Keeping my body from sailing through the windshield caused enough adrenaline to course through me to keep me alive. Yes, this was years before seat-belts, folks. The '64 Dodge I was driving did not have seat-belts.

It was totaled by some guy pulling off the main highway to get into a bar.

The next day, I couldn't move. Anything.

I had a split in my scalp, but nothing on my face. Had I had ONE stitch in my face, I would have made millions.
My parents did NOTHING to pursue the driver.
NOTHING.

I was without a vehicle right after graduation from college. I had interviews for jobs to go to. 
All in all, I got $1200 for a car that was in perfect condition.

Crippled for years. No car. 

I still have trouble holding anything of weight.


This was the only photo of the exact color and year of my Dodge 440. Of course, mine was not set up for racing like this one, but that was a lot of steel and engine.
Once again, Irene lost.


Friday, May 29, 2020

All wrong

This bullshit has got to stop.
A true humanitarian would declare, not that he isn't getting popular agreement on Twitter, but that these overreactions to violence and the blatant harassment by police, is wrong and has to end.

Judging people by their race is wrong.
Judging people by where they might be, as we all have a right to be wherever we want to be, is wrong.
Judging people by their language, their proximity, their hairstyle, is wrong.

Judging people by doing the jobs they were given, if they are doing them correctly...you have to make sure they're doing what they have sworn to do, on bibles or their mother's lives or those of their children.

This isn't 1868 or 1968. The time, the year is 2020. We should have learned some important lessons by now.

Sunday, May 17, 2020

Hometown memory

Just saw an ad on TV for some kind of heating pad that is weighted and safe to last all night long.
This, of course, reminded me of something from when I was maybe 10 or so.

My grandmother had a friend who lived on the outskirts of my hometown, right on the edge, on a dead end street. It was paved, but lonely. Okay, for the longest time, this woman, Dodka I will try to phoneticize her name, lived in a shack with no toilet or running water, though I do believe electricity was forced upon her later in time.

What made me think of this poor old lady who did not speak English in my vicinity, was the horrible way she died.

It was a fierce winter. Snow was piled high in drifts. I doubt anybody even knew someone lived in this shack, not even the town. 
The old lady, in an effort to be warm, plugged in three heating pads and slept her last sleep.

When she was found, many days later, she was burned to a crisp, inside and out.

My grandmother found out about her passing weeks later. I do not know whether she would have done anything to alleviate the woman's situation while she still breathed because most people didn't give a rat's ass about Dodka. She had no family.

The killer thing is, when the town was tearing down the shack, a great deal of money was found in the walls and that part of the dirt floor that had boards over it.

Is there a lesson in this? 
Either: Spend it while you have it  or
be careful using heating pads. 

Thursday, May 14, 2020

Weather or not

The sun is beaming brilliantly into the windows. Birds are bathing atop the pool cover. The lilacs are in full glorious bloom, the day lilies will soon shoot up with their brazen orange flowers, the azaleas are doing their utmost to cheer the world.

Unfortunately, these lovely things cannot cure this Corona virus plague.

Pity, that.

For if they could, everyone would be out, gazing and sniffing and allowing the sun to warm their late spring bodies.

There is no cure yet.
People somewhere are working diligently to find one, but it takes time. In the meantime, people are dying.

This is a cruel purge on us.
A flood would have been much more effective. Just saying.

Of all the various things I have thought about writing here, this is what came out.
No humor. No innuendo. Nothing but a furrowed brow.

Yet, there is still hope.
I can never lose hope that this epidemic will be resolved...weeks, months...years?

How long can you tread water?