Whatever Happened?

What happened to a child’s universe being its home, then expanding into the surrounding community, local schools, and churches? What has happened when the parents relinquish their skills of raising and controlling the child and reduced the influence of the home? A change occurred, and not for the better. Larger schools and school boards that are no longer community based have replaced the one room school houses and built mega-structures that herd our children through their lessons, paying more attention on indoctrination than to education.

A child’s universe was once very isolated and close to home. Children’s morals were learned in the home taught by family, clergy, teachers, and neighbors. That reflected a time when we knew our neighbors, we chose our teachers, and we decided on which church to attend. Then world expanded as a child aged, but they had a solid foundation upon which to stand and raise their own families.

Things have changed. More and more worldly influences have become the base of morals and examples for them to follow. Single parent homes have become the norm. A child’s life’s now are pulled into a much larger world, first by the radio. Then it was by television, computers, smart phones, and the internet. Our children’s examples for morality have become decidedly much worldlier.

Increasingly, those teaching our children lead them astray into secular views. The taint of following progressive liberal views is that there’s no set absolutes, no anchors to which children may cling, and no boundaries set. Kids are advised to “follow their hearts.” There’s no longer anything right or wrong; everything’s relative. People paraded before our children are presented as icons and heroes, but many only promote casual sex, drugs, and violence without the child seeing the outcome.

I understand it’s necessary for children to escape the limitations of a one room schoolhouse to keep abreast of technology, but as parents we cannot abandon our children’s innocence to be slain on the altar of the world. Children in the past have learned much more with the smaller classes. Latin, Greek, math, and yes, even the Bible were taught. There wasn’t time or need to teach how to place a condom on a banana. It was the families who selected the curriculum and teachers, not a government imposed choice of text books or new methods like teaching the burdensome and confusing path of “common core math.”

On top of that, the government steals the same money they give schools to educate our children by forcing the schools to follow “regulations,” keep records, and show compliance. When our children lose a solid local foundation, they’re compelled to adopt a more worldly view.

Fact, Fake, Fantasyland

Whether it’s fact, fiction, or a mixture of both this quarantine from the Covid19 virus is wreaking havoc and devastation on nearly every person in the United States other than the paid politicians. They’re still drawing a salary, paid from our taxes and imposing their will on us. Many Americans will lose their homes and face financial ruin. Small businesses are failing and can’t get bailout loans…unless they’ve already obtained a loan from that bank. Many businesses never took a loan and aren’t eligible. I’m just going to share some sarcastic remarks to lighten this heavy post.

Beauty salons may curl up and dye. Barber shops will feel cut off and have to shave their expenses. Carpenters are cutting corners and feel nailed to the wall. Electricians are shocked at their lost charges. Manicurists feel rebuffed and know that they’re being clipped. Plumbers are feeling drained and hose piped. How about the jeweler who’s chained with bailout promises and left with an empty ring? Bars left with mixed thinks and feel all tapped out. Liquor stores having bad spirits and whine because of lost revenues. Cruise lines starting to go under, awash with debt having no smooth sailing and risk sinking. Then there are florists who can no longer branch out because they’ve been nipped in the bud?  How about boot shops that are told to heel and can’t march on. Athletic stores who can no longer run and are now not good sports. What about print shops that are being discarded, then having their shirts ripped off their backs? Restaurants feel their goose is cooked and can’t take off with only take out; their servers are out of work and waiting around. Farmers can’t reap what they sow and many are straying far afield.

Then there are craft shops told not to sell material things, masked by intrusive rules. What about strip joints that can no longer bare the government’s song and dance; casinos that can’t spin the wheel of chance, their other games only shoot craps. Taylors seam to be just sew-sew and having fits. Sports teams; football’s fumbling, baseball’s striking out, hockey’s left holding the short end of the stick, wrestling’s taken to the mat while on hold, boxing’s acting punchy round after round, race drivers are no longer on track, and soccer teams getting kicked in the seat of their pants.

Tanning salons are seeing the light but are still turning pale. Cycle shops are barely keeping their wheels spinning and may have to peddle their wares elsewhere. Airlines may crash with their wings clipped. But bankers are gathering interest. Abortion clinics are still making a killing. Toilet paper manufacturers are on a roll and bringing up the rear and politicians are still living off tax payers’ dollars.

Honey Bun Anyone?

A physician would often have his office patients report to the emergency department for testing that he thought needed to be done. Without any inconvenience to him, he could extend office hours by using the emergency room staff. We’d make a chart for each patient, do their assessments, disrobe them, gown them, and take the patient’s vital signs. Once the person was settled in one of the beds we’d call the doctor for orders. When he thought the results would be back he’d stroll over to see the patients. Usually we’d have two or three beds tied up for just his clients until he finished

rounding and came to see them.

Eventually he got tired of answering our telephone calls as each patient would arrive. He knew how many patients he’d advised to come to the hospital and he’d wait until he thought that they had all arrived before he would return our calls. We’d then have fill out the needed requisitions for tests and wait for the results to come back. All the while our beds were being tied up with his patients limiting beds for true emergencies. Once the all of results were back, we’d again page him and he’d eventually decide to see his patients.

We’d heard through the grapevine each morning he liked to grab a cup of coffee and talk with the radiologists before he visited his in-patients, so we started to call x-ray to see if they could prod him into answering our pages.

This worked for awhile until one day someone called the radiology department and asked if the doctor was there. Apparently he’d told the technicians and the secretaries not to interrupt him or tell us whether he was in the hospital or not. He obviously didn’t want bothered until he was ready. He was married but it was also rumored that he had a girlfriend who worked in the radiology department as well.

It was a very busy morning and had four of his patients filling our beds. The emergency department only had a total of eight beds at the time. We were trying to work around his patients and take care of those arriving for emergency treatment. The limited number of beds hampered us and made our jobs so much more difficult. Of course this was one of the days he refused to answer his pages.

I got frustrated at his lack of concern and felt the devil crawl out of me and climb up onto my shoulder. I snatched the telephone and dialed x-ray.

“This was the x-ray department. How may I help you?” a female voice demurely chimed.

I said, “This is Tom from the emergency room. Would doctor Malden happen to be there enjoying a cup of coffee and a honey bun?”

Now a honey bun could have been one of those sweet, sticky, swirled pastries or….?  Well you get the idea.

I heard a small gasp on the other end of the phone and then a soft chuckle before the super sweet voice said, “Hold on, I’ll check for you.”

Dr. Malden returned my call shortly thereafter. I don’t know if she ever told the doctor or the honey bun what I’d said, but when I called the x-ray department from then on, someone would always check to see if he was there. I guess my “innocent” comment had at least gotten passed along to fellow employees.

Post Wedding High Jinks

I am not sure what else to call the post wedding harassment of the newly wedded couple’s vehicle and or their luggage. It’s been a long standing tradition to hang cans, shoes, and other noise making items to the back bumper of the nuptial’s car with a sign of “just married” to announce the newlywed couple to the world. Sometimes the prank may be to completely fill the “escape” vehicle with dozens of balloons or thousands of Styrofoam peanuts. There have been other incidents when wrapping the car with cellophane or toilet paper by jokesters. The wrapped vehicle greeted the bride and groom as they left the wedding or the reception and barred a swift departure. (I imagine the Corona virus has limited the number of weddings ceremonies and the amount of toilet paper they use.)

Other tricks well-wishing tricksters used would be to stick a note inside of the gas cap cover saying, “Wish us well. Just married.” The attendant would greet them and the confused couple would often wander around their car to see if they’d missed removing any “decorations.”

I’ve heard of jokesters smearing limburger cheese on the manifold of the engine, sliding an opened can of sardines beneath one of the seats, or hiding several shrimp inside of the hubcaps to rot and smell.

Two rather large families in my area became involved in the “one upmanship” of tricks; where brothers, cousins, sisters married people from the other family. These pranks became more involved and sometimes more intense. The original small stunts escalated. No longer would hiding sardines or smearing limburger cheese would suffice.

After the act of crushing shredded wheat and spreading the crumbs in the suitcases of honeymoon clothing, the pranks and pranksters were kicked into high gear. The last escapade that I heard was for a wedded couple who had plans to celebrate their honeymoon in Florida. After they arrived at their hotel and opened their suitcases for a change of clothing, they found that someone had substituted their swimwear, sandals, and shorts for sweaters, coats, and mukluks. It was necessary for them to go shopping for a change of clothes while they waited for their parents to make an overnight shipment of climate appropriate clothing.

Many couples I know who have recently been married or are planning a wedding now include a trusted family member who keeps their luggage under lock and key until their escape to their honeymoon destination.

A Good Sport

My brother Ken is an avid sportsman. He has always enjoyed golf, baseball, hunting, or almost anything that occurs out of doors. When he played golf on his downtime as a caddy, he would come in one or two strokes either behind or in front of the course’s golf professional.

In hunting, only the seasons change as to what game he was hunting and the weapon he used not the desire to hunt; bow and arrow, rifle, or shotgun. He enjoys fishing as well, but not as much as hunting. He went out West to hunt elk one year, riding a horse into the mountains on the tour. He helped the guides setting up camp.

When he played baseball, he played in a local league for young men. The league played their games on Sunday afternoons. If we wanted to know if he had a game that Sunday, we’d tease by saying, “Are you going to the church of the swinging bat today?”

He often got roped into being an umpire at his son’s little league games. Ken didn’t like when coaches verbally abused their charges and at the beginning of each game he told them, “I’m giving you two warnings about cussing at the kids before I toss you out…and this is the first.”

He was attracted to fast cars, motorcycles, and A.T.V.s. They were a past passion in his life although the A.T.V. is an integral part of his hunting now.

I think his two favorite cars were a pale yellow mustang, his first car and a 1976 Dodge Demon that was black with white stripes painted across the hood, roof, and trunk. I always thought it looked like a skunk. Ken tricked and souped it up for speed and took it to the drag races to compete. There was a large air scoop that rose above the hood.

He’s slowed a bit since then and has just finished restoring a Jeep, painting it red. Red was our dad’s favorite color. It’s Ken’s baby and it stays up on blocks during the winter in the garage. His cars are a little less powerful than before, but he still likes to work on them.

The one thread that has wound through all of his other passions was to meet and date women, looking for that one special person that he loved as much as he did all of his other passions. My grandmother Miner had a favorite saying, “There’s never a pot too crooked that a lid won’t fit.”

Addiction

I have a desire that’s developed over the years and intensified with the recent imposed quarantine. It’s not drugs, not alcohol, but the need for a phone. As a child and early adulthood the phone only commanded attention when its loud incessant ringing caused someone to answer it to stop its intrusion.

The first telephone I remember was a wooden box hung on the wall with a crank handle and a black receiver that dangled from its cradle. It was a party line and not always available for use. Others might be talking. Patience was required to place a call. When the line was free, the person making the call would twist the crank to get the attention of the switchboard operator who would transfer thr call to the intended phone number. When we received a call, we had to listen to the length and number of rings to know whether the call was for us or not. One problem happened when someone on your line forgot to hang up essentially blocking the line.

The local phone system and telephones improved. No party more lines and we could make our calls directly with a rotary dial, you knew the number. If not, there was always the telephone book or directory assistance…for a small fee.

Push button dialing was the next innovation. Curly plastic covered wires connected the receiver to the telephone body. The phone could sit on a desk, a table, or hung on the wall. Cords became longer and conversations could continue while raiding the refrigerator or lying comfortably on the floor.

I became more attached to my phone when I worked as a nursing supervisor. Initially when I was needed an overhead page system would summon me to phone or go to certain areas of the hospital. Next came the pagers, its beeping caused me to look to see the number march across the miniature screen. The next invention was the cell phone. It wasn’t my favorite. It demanded immediate attention, even in the bathroom. A person couldn’t find a few minutes to relax even there.

When I came home from work and our house phone rang, I allowed someone else to answer it. I was burned out and really didn’t care who was calling.

My kids finally talked me into my first cell phone, a small flip phone. I disliked the tiny key pad and my fat fingers often fumbled when making a call. Slowly the cell advanced and thus began my addiction. I don’t panic if it’s not with me, but I do struggle when it’s on silent and I can’t find it. Now I have access many aps and unless I silence it, I get notifications then am drawn to see what is happening.

The View

I shared the first meeting with my wife to be, Cynthia Louise Morrison on Monday’s post. She was a complete stranger, but we became connected through the wedding of my cousin Alan Bottomley. She was an usherette and I was the best man. It was completely a happenstance meeting. We were both in college and I wasn’t looking for a date at the time. I was concentrating on completing my studies after my stint in the Navy.

Debra Firestone was Cindy’s childhood friend as well as her best friend. Cindy knew Bill Detar too. They attended the same university, California State College and probably met him through Debbie as well. Debbie saw my teasing Cindy at the wedding and played matchmaker. She invited me to go on a blind double date with Bill and her and Cindy of course. I needed a break from my books and agreed.

The date was for the dance cruise on the Gateway Clipper in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Debbie and Bill decided that we needed to eat before the cruise and stopped at Peasant Village Restaurant. The restaurant’s menu listed full meals as well as a la carte items. I was nervous and chose veal steak only. I was afraid of eating too much. When the veal came it covered the entire meat platter. I was glad that I hadn’t ordered more. It was delicious. Desserts, no thank you. Not another bite.

Back in the car and into Pittsburgh. We boarded the Clipper before the time it would leave the dock and wandered onto the upper deck. A soft cool breeze felt so wonderful. A large group of men were gathered at the pier side of the ship. Curiosity piqued, we wandered over to the railing to see what the attraction was.

Down on the dock stood a small group of people chatting, but there was only one person who was causing the stir. It was a rather busty blonde woman. She was wearing a powder blue outfit in a time where pantsuits were in style. The bodice of this suit was quite revealing. From perches along the railing, the men had a perfect view of the woman’s navel. Had the pants not been cinched tightly, I’m not quite sure what we would have seen. We kidded afterward, if one more man would have crowded the rail, the Clipper would have surely capsized.

The rest of the cruise was rather uneventful, but it eventually led to a second date and our marriage in May. Debbie and Bill’s wedding was in June. Our lives and families have been intertwined ever since. Their kids and ours were more like brothers and sisters than friends.