posted by Chuck Ayers
No quarter moon on this privy.
We California Okies would sometimes visit our Aunt Minnie. Aunt Minnie was my mother’s older sister. Minnie lived just off the county road between Love and Carter County, Oklahoma. South of metropolitan Wilson, Oklahoma. A once upon a time oil and gas boomtown. Now with a population of 1800 down from a previous 5000.
But anyway, Minnie lived near a spot, and I mean a spot called Postoak. From the gravel road where it ends at the mailboxes on the county road near where my Aunt Minnie had lived one could draw a circumference outlining Postoak. Going from that focal point of the mail boxes out about a hundred yards or so and drawing a circle around it was the spot in the road near my Aunt Minnies homestead. Welcome to Postoak.
One feature of her homestead was the wooden out building located about 50-feet from the rear of her house. I must explain Aunt Minnie had no indoor facilities. No running water nor flushing commode inside her home. So when we had the ne we went outside to the smallish wooden building outback in order to expel our needs. We California kids were not familiar with such a unique ‘lavatory.’ My older sister, a prankster, stated without authenticity that there were rattle snakes down in the privy hole. Which prompted my dad with flashlight to inspect. I thought he a brave man. None the less that rumor was dispelled after his inspection. Whew!
So for those of you who had never entered an outhouse I will narrate what can be expected. This was a deluxe outhouse. It had two cut out holes atop a flat wooden ledge just inside the big wooden door. Holes with no seat or lid. So the sitter might experience some splintered wood stickers in his or Her’s backside.
Over to the wall to the right was a place to hang a roll of TP. But more often than not, the roll would be empty. But just below was a out of date Sears big general catalogue. The big general catalogue had tissue fine paper. Light enough to do the job. However, one would not use the Sears Christmas catalogue because of it’s color photos and heavier paper. One could possibly observe pictures of toy trains of Betsy Wetsy on ones bottom as a result. But as a last resort, corn cobs would be laying about.
Last but least there was no flushing. Just sit and relax. By the way, my Aunts privy had no quarter moon on the door. That would be too much time and expense. Don’t ask me about the odor. Room spray hadn’t been invented at that time. However, a struck match would work quite nicely. Now see what you missed being born too late? Have a nice day.
Bumper cars
Fender bender.
So we were driving on Monalua Road headed for Aiea Heights Drive. We made a green light and was passing through the intersection when a new looking Dodge Charger hit us square in the rear fender of our very used 1963 Plymouth Valiant. By the way Aiea is in the hills of Oahu overlooking Pearl Harbor.
But anyway, we two accidentarians pull out of the intersection and began to exchange Licenses and insurance papers. The young man, still teenage, told me he just got his drivers license and was driving a brand-new Dodge. I would have to admit he was very forthcoming. He told me everything. His parents ran a florist business just within walking distance from where we stood. He assured me his dad would take care of this. In the meantime a Honolulu police officer stopped by to as if everything was okay. Feeling sorry for the kid, I waved the officer off with a “everything is okay.” I knew of the flower shop the boy spoke of. Been there several times in the past.
So the next day I called the flower shop and spoke to the young man’s father. With little discussion he told me to take my car to a body and fender paint shop just down the road and that guy would fix the damage and repaint the left side. I must admit how easy and quick this whole transaction took.
The young man was of Japanese descent, his father was a person with many connections, and it all took about a week to transact.
We had other collisions years before in California and other places and most took months to resolve. Had this happened on mainland America I would had never agreed to such a proposal. Call the police and let them question the other driver. Have my insurance throw the book at whomever. Be tough. Look angry. But in this case, not. The kid now would be 66 years old. God bless him and his probably deceased parents. I hope he is having a good life. Mine’s been pretty good so far.
Fly me to the Moon but no further.
What do I do with this?
Almost everyday I hear on public radio a program about stars, blackholes, quasar’s, Goldilock planets, and marvelous detailed color photos from telescopes previously launched far into outer space.
What do I do or even we do with such eclectic information? How does it affect me here in northcentral Oklahoma. Can it gain me fame or wealth? Can it help me start a business. Will it increase my estate’s worth then pass it on to my two lovely daughters?
What tangible value does it have.
To me it appears just to be ‘make work’ and nothing else. They build huge telescopes high atop the tallest mountains and give degrees in “Make Work.” Wake me up when I can cash in on this useless boondoggle.
My appoligy to my astronomy friends. But anyway, why are we so obsessed with things floating in outer space? It’s hard enough to make sense of unexplainable things here on the ground.
And then there are those pinheads wanting to fly off to Mars to start a new colony. Never mind the Mars atmosphere is unsuited for human habitation. Not to mention there are no Starbucks, no Super Cuts, no Taco Bells, no drive thru-carwashes, and no ATM’s. For Pete sakes, why would any intelligent human want this? Go get a job at Disneyland.
I love the smell of fresh pressed rubber tires.
The Golden State/Sooner State connection.
Having grown up in a tiny house near a major industrial area in Los Angeles, we were just down wind from the B F Goodrich tire factory. Almost in the shadow of the Willard Battery water tower. Just north of the railroad tracks near the Union Pacific switching yards. A straight shot from the Pillsbury grain elevators.
Now around the corner back then from the East Los Angeles railroad station was the US Royal Tire company. Later known as UniRoyal Tire. The UniRoyal Tire company was housed in an old movie studio building. A very large facility. The front side of the UniRoyal building with its Romanesk façade was use as a backdrop for the chariot race scene portrayed in the movie “Ben Hur with Charlton Heston.” Now the facility houses a unique shopping mall called the Consortium.
To start with, the B F Goodrich tire factory was shut down in the mid-1960s. Its machinery and some of its jobs were moved to Miami(pronounce Miam-ah)Oklahoma. Our family moved out of the East Los Angeles area about ten years previous. But miss the rubber tire volcanizing smell. Something you get use to living in Los Angeles.
Next, the UniRoyal Tire factory a few years after the Goodrich move to Oklahoma, also moved to Oklahoma as well. UniRoyal moved to Ardmore just down I-35.
But later both tire factories were taken over by larger international brands and left Oklahoma. Not sure where they went. It is my understanding now the only American made tires are Cooper tires in Finly, Ohio. So one could only conjecture that the two tire companies of Goodrich and UniRoyal have left the continent. Roll on you rubber dowgies.
What a cool place to work Pops.
posted by Chuck Ayers
The oil refinery.
My dad told people he would meet he worked as a night supervisor at an oil refinery. However the oil he spoke of was soy bean vegetable oil. That and shortenings and margarines. Most of which went to large commercial bakeries. During world war II a big portion went to the war effort. Baking breads and such for the military. Thus his job was protected and he was able to avoid being drafted. None the less, he was actually by job description part of the military effort.
One Saturday he brought my brother and I to his work place. It was located near the Vernon Avenue meatpacking district in central L A. Oscar Meyer, Armour, Luer, and a dozen others were nearby. The company he worked for was Swift and Company. A meatpacker as well as a vegetable oil refining company.
Being a person wanting to know how everything is made or how it worked, I was duly impressed. But what ten-year-old boy wouldn’t.
My dad showed us his office, the huge vats where soy and other compounds were mixed and cooked. We rode up and down in the large freight elevator and visited the assembly line where things were packaged and shipped off. Wow, it was all cool.
By the way, inside this large two-story structure was a small area called the ‘test kitchen.’ A place where lab coated men or women tested the baking products. Often baked were pound cakes. Yes, yellow crumbed pound cakes. Made with many eggs and varying degrees of cooking flours and oils and other ingredients. So as a side benefit to the refinery employees, numerous pound cakes were available to take home. My dad brought home many a pound cake. A thick slice of pound cake made the perfect strawberry shortcake. The bottom line was we were poundcake poor.
On occasion, and without the management’s knowledge, my dad would bring to work his mixing tub and ice cream maker. The assembly line workers liked an occasional glop of vanilla ice cream on their slice of poundcake. But word got around and the management called in to their office my dad and asked him when could he bring back the ice cream maker to his work for the next poundcake serving. Whew! “Whenever you would like sir.” Even plant managers like ice cream on their pound cake.
Red’s revenge.
A follow-up to the original.
Red’s Retribution.
It was at midterm in her sophomore year at Forestview college when her Grandma sadly had died. But it was no surprise because grandma was unfortunately slowly going down anyway. This was not a very good time for Red and her mom.
But anyway as time progressed, her mother was now instructing yoga at the local community Senior center three days a week filling her time with healthful exercise. High stepping line-dancing and Pickleball among others. And at Red’s college, Red Riding hood herself was majoring in culinary and baking management in order to open a designer cookie store in the nearby mall.
And incidentally and on another note, no one knows what ever happened to the diabolical wolf who lived in the deep dark forest. But ever sense then the Grandma and the “Better to eat you with my dear” scary episode had faded from Red’s mind. And by the way the helpful woodsman who had rescued Grandma had later been promoted to Chief Forester of the deep dark forest. A good promotion with a nice salary increase.
None the less, and one holiday weekend later on Red Riding hood came home to visit her mom and they had big plans to paint and redecorate Riding hood’s upstairs bedroom. Take down the old posters of Yogi bear and Cheech and Chong. Paint the walls with a Rosey deep pink color and put-up new Taylor Swift posters.
Surprisingly as they were moving furniture out of Red’s room her cell rang. On the caller ID it showed unknown. However Red Riding hood answered the ring anyway. She answered with her cutsie sorority girl voice. Heylow everybody Heylow. Then there came a worrisome pause. Then a voice somewhat like Darth Vader came from the other end, And he said am I speaking to little Red Riding hood? A voice somewhat familiar to Red. Then she said this is Red Riding hood but I am no longer Little Red Riding hood. I am just Red Riding hood. I’m not little any more. Are you copying me Bubba?
Never the less, The growling mystery voice on the other end said with a matter-of-fact tone. I need you to bake a fresh bag of chocolate chip cookies and delivered to Grandma’s front door at grandma’s house deep in the dark woods. The gruff voice went on to say, grandma told me herself for Red to do this. the wolfish voice knowingly lied to Red through his very sharp teeth. And again as per instructions to leave it at the front door of grandma’s cottage. Just leave it there and go home the gruff voice demanded.
Red paused to think. That voice sounded very familiar. Then thought, she would comply but with a surprise in the cookie bag.
So it was that Red made up a full bag of mostly delightful sweet confections the next day and off she went.
Stepping lively through the deep dark woods to grandma’s house and as she walked further along into the darkening woods Red could see out the corner of her eye a shadowy figure following her from a distance. She saw Something Dashing behind tree to tree.
Once she arrived at her late grandmother’s house Red placed the bag of goodies at the front door as instructed by the familiar voice, then quickly she turned around, and started walking back home with a hurrying pace. About 20 or 30 yards away from the front of the house, she glance back and saw a dark grayish shadowy figure with a long straggling tail rush to the front door, grab the bag and run back into the deep dark woods.
Red then stood silent and suddenly heard an ear-piercing gaBOOM. Suddenly birds and critters began to tweet and chatter followed by falling fur and deep forest debris coming down from everywhere. Then Red posed a faint smile with eyes glaring straight ahead as she headed off towards the deep dark woods exit. And as she shuffled down the narrow forest trail Red thought to herself, “gotcha.”
I’m here to see the mouse.
The place to find fantasy fun and fairytales.
When you first drive into the humongous parking lot at Disneyland, you pass under the elevated monorail and immediately you are directed by an army of white nosed parking directors pointing this way and that. All cars follow each other and park neatly in a row as directed by the white noses. The white nose is a sun screen to protect the young men from sunburn.
As you make your way from your car and walk towards either the Disneyland main entrance or to the parking tram you will notice car license plates from states afar. Arizona, Navada, Idaho and as far away as New York and Florida. Also some from Canada and Mexico. All driven to see the “Happiest Place on Earth.” Disneyland in Anaheim, California.
I and some of my siblings and cousins visited Disneyland the first week it was opened back in 1955. When I first entered Disneyland I got goose bumps from knowing this is the place. The Magic Kingdom. Uncle Walt’s place of fun and fairytale. I was excited.
Years later with my little family visiting Disneyland we walked under the Santa Fe railroad bridge at the main people entrance into the town square. Immediately you know this is a special place and so do others. As we were entering this one time a gentleman approached me with his Kodak Instamatic camera in hand and asked me to photograph him and his young family. All standing just in front of the flowering representation of Mickey Mouse’s grinning face. Sure, I would be glad to. One, two, three…Smile-click.
Turn me on, Phil
They called it a Philco cathedral radio. A wooden table top model about two feet tall with scrolling cut outs over the five-inch speaker and it weighed about 25-pounds. It was called such because of its arching top something like a church cathedral. Below was an analog dial pointing from 550 kilohertz’s to 1550 KHZ AM. Down below was two round knobs. One to switch the radio on and off and to adjust the volume. And the second knob used to tune the dial to the frequency you wish to listen to. It had crystalline vacuumed tubes in the back which lighted up like a Christmas tree and put out significant heat. However this one was sitting on my dad’s work bench out in the garage. This relic had lost some of its finish and luster being exposed to uncontrolled heat and humidity.
This particular Philco radio was bought shortly after my parents moved from dust bowl Oklahoma back in 1941 to southern California at about the time World War II began. And was often listened to in order to hear the latest war news and if any enemy boats or planes were spotted off the California coast. If something suspicious was spotted at night a total black out was called for by broadcast radio. All lights were to be turned off or heavy shades were to be drawn.
Never the less, just a few months earlier my parents were living in southern rural Oklahoma in an almost ‘third-world’ existence. No electricity or running water. The only radio near them was at a neighbor’s house about a mile down the road. A radio powered by a car battery. If the president were to speak on the radio, someone would have to drive down to my folks house and alert them of a presidential address. An address such as one of Roosevelt’s fire side chats. “Good evening America.”
Where do you get all those Ping Pong balls?
The Captain’s curse.
Not sure if you notice these things but the CBS Morning Show has almost always rated last for early morning news and interview shows. The Today Show and Good Morning America has flipped back and forth in the number one and two spots. CBS has been a distant third with low ratings.
Many of the CBS Morning show hosts have left disappointed or a bit angry. Paula Zond, Harry Smith, Katherine Sullivan, Diane Sawyer, Bill Curtis just to name a few. Some going on to bigger and better TV environs.
So what happened? Most say the CBS management was a bit over expecting or disappointed as well. Resulting in too much pressure on the TV personalities. Certainly a culture hard to perform in.
But here is the truth. Once Captain Kangaroo was cancelled in the early morning weekday time slot the Morning Show was mercilessly cursed. Cursed by the children who were fans of the Captain, Mr. Green Jeans, Mr. Moose, Mr. Rabbit, and other regulars on the famed Captain Kangaroo Show. It is as simple as that. Cursed! Hexed! An evil pall was cast over the CBS news department by the Captain and his followers. Fade to black.
Throwing out the constitution with the bathwater
Its almost like re-writing the Bible. Changing truths to suit our own life style.
This is what haters of the US Constitution are trying to do. Get rid of rule of law and American History. Forget the past, make it up as we go along.
The constitution may be old and stodgy but it works. Protecting our rights and freedoms. Resist voting for anyone who desires to cancel the US Constitution.
Chuck the Blogger Guy 