Chuck the Blogger Guy

For Pete sakes! Why did I ever read this?

Let me say this up front. I am not a Danielle Steel fan. Even though I read her book presented below. Now that I got that out of the way, here it is.

So here is a book some of you might like. It has all the elements of things you might be interested in. Estranged sisters, Complicated relationships, divorce, former lives and present lives, the Catholic church, nuns, Irish convents, pregnant girls, adoption, hard feelings, reconciliation, death, divorce, restoring old houses, Mother Superior, ex-nuns, writers, books, a movie star, obligatory romance, and going back to Africa to resume a previous life. Whew! What more could a reader want.

After cutting off ties with her sister a catholic nun, plus experiencing divorce and the death of her child, Melissa, a former successful author, finds an old house to restore and tries to forget the past and ignore her sister and any other relationship. Plus vowing to never write again. Her only interest for the foreseeable future is fixing up and restoring an old house she buys out in the back woods of New York. All the while becoming most depressed and a loner. And once again, all to escape a past life.

The title of the book is “Finding Ashley” by Danielle Steel. Published 2021, fiction. There is a reasonable story line but as John Steinbeck once described some book writing “too much hoopty-dootle.” Lots of filler and bla bla bla. I call it filler cheesecake. But aside from that I would have written in some different twists at the end. But why am I saying this. Steel got paid for her trouble writing this book. I will not. So shut up Chuck! But be certain, I’ll never read another Danielle Steel book again. So there!

Are we there yet?

Before there were Interstate Highways, before there were GPS directions, before there were seat belts, before there were cup holders, before there was car air conditioning, before there were McDonalds and Denny’s along with Motel Six, there were narrow two lane paved and sometimes gravel roads across the great desert southwest and southern New Mexico mountains driving down into the humid cotton fields of flat west Texas. Monsoons, dust and electrical storms, flash flooding, bug splatter on windshields, hot and sweaty and young forever complaining car travelers, rolled down windows, greasy fried chicken along with apple slices, and vanilla cookies. So, all of this was the conditions in which made up our vacation experience in August each summer back in the 1950s.

We were all Los Angeles Okies taking our annual vacation trip out of southern California headed back to my parent’s motherland of Oklahoma in the 1950s. Destination, Wilson Oklahoma. Former oil boom town but depleted of most of its natural and human resources and now just a lazy hollowed out Mayberry north of the Red River. Definitely a trip in the retro-time machine. A look back to what might have been us had we stayed in Wilson years ago But very glad mom and dad decided to move to the west coast in the early 1940s instead.

But anyway, this grueling trek was a 24-, hour relentless marathon. Don’t stop for anything unnecessary until you get there. Just stop for gas, potty, and coffee along the way. My dad must had nerves of steel and an iron will to never spend much time or money on the road. So my dad’s fast driving was a blur of quickly passing tilted phone poles, tattered billboards, miles and miles of barbwire fences, prickly cactus, little red Burma Shave signs, weathered wooden windmills, rusting junk yards, big red Coca-Cola machines, and Texaco gas stations with the big red star. All of this but with the exception of an occasional stop for a highway trooper pulling us over for speeding. Requiring my dad to begrudgingly pay the fine before leaving the county. Darn!

So, without much thought, I wouldn’t trade these remarkable travel memories for anything. I’ll take the sticky fried chicken and rolled down windows all the way to Oklahoma in my mind. Land that time must have forgotten. Hello to my parents past. Goodbye for a few days to busy and smelly L A. Bottom line was in the end, we all were glad to return to our comfy home in Los Angeles. Thankful for toilets that flush and rolls of toilet paper. Don’t think I could get use to outhouses and bathing in galvanized tubs. But that was back then.

In case you missed the Cold War.

Let me start this way. Let’s pretend we dug up a time capsule buried inside a White Owl cigar box labeled “Cold War” and exhumed from under the chicken coop located in our backyard in East Los Angeles. Buried back in the early 1950s for anyone to later discover and analyze.

Well anyway, here is what it might reveal today. Once World War II was over, the Soviet Union along with its conquered and occupied nations, flatly declared “We will bury you.” Directing their Vodka breath bombast towards us. We the United States. Russia obviously didn’t care for us. The United States government was not happy with Russia either as they occupied East Germany, Poland, Yugoslavia, and a few other Eastern European countries I have forgotten. Such post war events were not looked upon with favor or trust by America. Thus giving Russia and their captured allies the Cold shoulder. Get it? Consequently Russia cut off diplomatic relations and forbade travel in and outside of these countries. Plus Russia was developing the “Big Bomb” and intercontinental Ballistic Missiles. All to be aimed at American cities. So in turn America did the same and aimed missiles at Russian cities. Sort of annihilation Standoff on the streets in Dodge City. But thankfully it never happened. But later to be called MAD. Mutually assured destruction. Got it? To help you understand this so far read the book “Dr. Strangelove” or download the movie. But really it was mostly a war of words and threats.

But back to this Cold War thing. There was hyperbolic rhetoric going back and forth from continent to continent. Accusing each country of spying and sabotage. Bringing fodder for the Tom Clancy and James Bond stories. From Russia with love’ or “The Hunt for Red October.” Remember?

But anyway, just a noisy game of intercontinental Pickleball. Ping-ding! Ping-ding! Ping-ding! Most annoying to the casual observer. Once again known as the Cold War. Ugly words volleying back and forth.

Then there was the threat of Communism and the “Big Red Scare.” Senator Joseph McCarthy was accusing everybody in Hollywood as being Communist or Communist sympathizers and wanted to ‘Black list’ them all. McCarthy had frequent senate hearings and ruined many a celebrity’s reputations. Sending them into exile. As a result Edward R Murrow, a CBS commentator, spoke on radio and TV against the ‘Commie’ chasing McCarthy and put him out of business. Download the movie “Goodnight and Good luck.” Plus there was Senator Berry Goldwater a solid gold anti-communist running for president in 1964 who wanted to use the Big Bomb on Russia. No no no. Mostly a stupid idea back then.

Then there was the U2 spy plane thing flying over Russia. President Eisenhower denied the spy plane thing. But Russia shot down the U2 and captured Francis Gary Powers. A supposed CIA operative. Then later with our tried and true U2 spy plane US flew over Cuba and spotted missals coming from Russia with the intent to launch at America if need be. President Kennedy called Russia and Cuba’s bluff and Cuba returned the missals back to the Soviet Union. Download the movie “Thirteen Days.” That was scary.

Now here are my first memories as an eight-year old in second grade back in 1952. While at school we were to practice the following:

At the first prolonged ringing bell indicating a warning of a bomb threat while at school we kids were to drop down under our desks, crouch into a fetal position, and cover the back of our neck with our left hand. All meant to protect ourselves against a direct hit from an atomic bomb. I guess we did this exercise so many times no one ever tried to bomb us. Never the less, we practiced this maneuver many times during the school year. Which brings me to this question, what happened to our 60-year old second grade teacher Mrs. Block. I think she couldn’t squat down under a desk and instead hid in the coat closet where we kept our lunches. But not sure what we would have done with a bomb threat while at home. We had no school desks at home to crawl under. Boy howdy!

Then came along the idea of digging bomb shelters in our backyards. Usually a big square hole in the ground covered with a thick layer of concrete atop and supposedly stocked with survival supplies. Water, cans of Pringles, tuna, and cans of Frito Bean dip. Therefore here and there in the neighborhood holes were being dug for bomb shelters. Probably at least one or two on every block. Enough to shelter at least a half dozen survivors total.

Then came the movies. Failsafe, on the beach, The Missals of October, America with a K, Cardinal in the Kremlin, Dr. Strangelove (as mentioned before) etc. TV movies depicting every missal firing from Silos in America and Russian bombs exploding over America. All leaving us Americans with the sense of inevitable total conflagration. None the less, thank God it never happened, so far. However, leaving one a bit chilled and perpetually cold during those times. Kind of like today with China and North Korea. Always on each other’s case. Let me put it this way, it was cold back then without the hot. Kind of crazy. Are you following me? Good! Now you know. Cold War is not what we want to do any more. Back then, Cold War was too cold.

Just a shot in the dark?

So, what is the excuse?

What reasons are given to NOT get Covid vaccine? I read article after article about medical professionals growing weary of people dying from Covid-19 and the Delta Variant needlessly. “This shouldn’t be happening.” “There is a vaccine to prevent all this sickness.” Staff is over worked and fatigued.” .

Too many people are getting their medical advice from Social Media rather than from real doctors and real nurses.

So risking law suit I am going to place REAL stories from the newspapers on Facebook. Articles about real doctors and nurses facing the challenge of nursing people who refused receiving vaccine and becoming deathly sick as a result. Facebook, cable news, TikTok, YouTube, Twitter, and others give out non-professional advice. More like disinformation or fake news. So if you see newspaper articles on Facebook, I placed them there. Risking copyright infringement. Probably get my pants sued off as a result. But it needs to be done. The real news is in real newspapers. Not on social media. God forgive us for we know not what we do. Amen.

By the way, I got my shots and for a few days later had experienced a sore arm. A small price to pay for Covid protection. You can do the same.

Are they Space Aliens?

What is their freaking point?!!!

Our southern governors are flat out nuts. They want to jeopardize our children and grandchildren going back to school. Back to school with some teachers and support staff without their Covid shots. Also not requiring all to wear masks. Morons all of them. I absolutely don’t get it. This issue is not politics. It’s putting our kids at risk with a serious illness. Where did these partisan mental midgets come from? In some southern states pediatric wards are full of sick kids with Covid. This is NO joke! There is one governor who refuses to alert parents of any covid outbreak at school. He is a mental lunatic on the loose. I’m pointing at you Texas.

We did this because we were transplanted Okies.

August was the month our family traveled from Southern California non-stop to southern rural Oklahoma. This was our required annual summer motoring away from our East L A home. An obligatory trudge taken for the purpose of visiting our parent’s mother land. A trip with a promise of lake swimming, ice cold watermelon, greasy fried chicken and homemade banana ice cream once we get there.

Once again, Destination: Wilson, Oklahoma. And for we California kids, a step back from California modernity. Early century ice boxes instead of refrigerators along with outside wooden door outhouses as an alternative to indoor plumbing. “What is this Sears catalogue doing in this smelly shack?”

Starting off, our car trunk would be jam packed with clothes and personal items. Two adults, four kids, and enough fried chicken and baloney sandwiches to last the entire trip all stuffed in paper sacks sitting in-between each kid on the back seat. Plus my dad had a thermos full of coffee up front. And again, it was non-stop. No restaurant or motel stops. Not even the occasional rest area. Stops for gas were rushed. Run to the bathroom, wash hands, and hop back into the car.

These were the days of no wide interstate highways. No car air conditioning. Just sweaty adults and complaining whining kids with windows rolled down. Come on! It was the early 1950s.

So, we did start off from Los Angeles in the early evening and drive south through the humid Imperial valley passing by the Salten Sea on the way to Yuma, Arizona. Driving Into hot and sultry Yuma after crossing the California/Arizona border over the Colorado River. Then rattled and rolled through the southern Arizona desert at about midnight and often slogging and sloshing concurrently with the Arizona annual monsoon season. Which did include plenty of blinding flashes of lightening. Then the following morning would put us into the cooler southern New Mexico Mountains where we would descend down the other side into the windy desert of White Sands on our way to Brownfield, Texas. Then head up to Lubbock and the hot humid cotton fields of west Texas. And eventually into Wichita Falls then head north across the narrow Red River bridge and continue on into the quaint little village of Wilson Oklahoma. We did not travel route-66 because it would take us several hundred miles north of Wilson. So we drove the southern route.

But let me back up. All this break-neck over night driving is not to forget the blinding dust storms we sometimes encountered. Plus occasional flash floods washing across low spots of the narrow two-lane roads of southern Arizona, New Mexico, and Texas. And my favorite to watch, windshields being splattered with all kinds of flying bug guts. And then there was the occasional driving atop gravel and dirt roads recently graded for soon to be an Interstate highway system. All these traveling adventures plus a few speeding tickets done in a dull gray humble overloaded 1950 Ford 4-door sedan. Just a physical and mental test of one’s Okie endurance. It is somewhat a surprise we all are still living today. Go Oklahoma!

This kid might have the right stuff.

I’m not sure if it was just happenstance or how it finally played out. But granddaughter E-8 could be our next big Broadway star. Belt it out kid.

None the less, during a recent visit from granddaughter E-8 and going on 20; our next-door neighbor gladly loaned us her Rogers and Hammerstein DVD collection of R&H’s most famous Broadway plays as they were adapted to movie Musicals. Sound of Music, South Pacific, Oklahoma, etc. So the three of us sat down that evening and started to watch one musical. We started off with Oklahoma. But what happened early on was grandma started singing Oklahoma in her goofy grandma fashion. Then quickly granddaughter E-8 had to join in with her and sang with a very loud Broadway stage-like bravado. Almost like a half size Carol Channing. High volume and with all the correct punctuations. The tune Oklahoma was sung several times during the movie and with it was once again accompanied by a loud chorus of Grams along with E-8 chiming in with their shrill megaphone voices. Good grief!

When the movie finished granddaughter E-8 repeatedly sang the title song Oklahoma. “Oklahoma where the wind comes sweeping down the Plaines…” And it went on and on from there until we forced grandee to go to bed. “GOODNIGHT!

Then the next morning we were once again regaled with song by the visiting pint-size Broadway singer. It was most difficult to eat one’s blueberry pancakes with an eight-year old virtuoso sitting at our breakfast table. O-o-oklahoma where the wind comes sweeping down the planes…” “Eat your pancakes!”

So that evening we had to choose another Movie Musical. I thought she would like Sound of Music but granddaughter E-8 didn’t really care for it. I guess the melody and words were not easy for her to follow. None the less, we watched the Julie Andrews spectacular but with no positive reaction from granddaughter. Not even “Doe a deer a female deer.”

However, after the movie E-8 began again to sing O-o-oklahoma and repeated it over several times. Loud enough to rattle the windows. So, stop your New York stage singing and say goodnight E-8.

So the next night it was with little thought we played the Oklahoma DVD once again. Forget South Pacific or Carousel. As far as E-8 was concerned, Oklahoma was the only musical Rogers and Hammerstein had ever composed.

Consequently, for the next remaining days of E-8 visit O-o-oklahoma was sang at least a hundred times before she had to go back home.

Woe unto her parents when she arrives back home. And not to mention what her piano teacher will say when E-8 breaks out in full Broadway mode. “But sweetheart, I don’t have the music sheets for Oklahoma.” But anyway, “O-o-oklahoma where the wind comes sweeping down the Plaines…”

On my soapbox.

Here is the chance for churches to redeem themselves. Evangelicals could extend their stance on “Pro-life.” They could extend their Pro-life beyond birth. Yes, beyond birth. As it is now almost all church people generally lose interest in the young single mother and her new born immediately after the child is born. Leaving single moms to their own struggles of taking care of herself and the new born infant.

Churches should take a hard look at providing low cost or free childcare, food, and day-to-day necessities for working moms and their babies. This could be a fantastic new ministry for Evangelicals and other faith based institutions. Especially if government is not allowed to help. Perhaps churches should put their new building expansion programs on hold and help a few struggling working moms instead. Struggling teen or older single Moms who were pressured into foregoing abortion.

Again, what would Jesus do? Where is our humanity? What is a church’s mission? Extend that mission beyond birth.

Gee whiz I wished I had kept it.

Yes, I loved my 1958 Volkswagen Beetle. I bought it off a used car lot in Inglewood California back in 1968 for about $300. Just basic transportation to and from school.

The Volkswagen featured an air-cooled rear engine and the most manual auto of its time. Roll-down windows, four speed stick shift, small oval rear window, no fuel gage, and a foot shift over reserve gas tank. You would get a sense of real driving. Just you, the gear shift, and a funky sounding motor. But anyway, there was no fuel gage. You had a reserve gas tank with about a gallon of gas left. The trick was to find the lever with your right foot and flip it over while the Beetle was sputtering and coughing before it ran out of gas. Sometimes I had to reach down and shift the reserve tank lever with my right hand and try not to crash into something or somebody. If I had battery problems, I had to remove the back seat to get to it. A very manual and arduous exercise. The gas tank was in the front under the hood along with the spare tire leaving very little room for a brief case or travel bag. To heat the cockpit, the heater in the VW was a plastic twist knob down between the two front seats. Twist it one way and it begins to release non-exhaust air heat from the air-cooled engine. But the AM radio did work. No pre-sets. Just two knobs. On-off volume and dial knob. The small oval rear window is what distinguished the 1958 ‘Bug’ from newer VWs. However, the tiny window was most problematic. Just enough viewing space to notice other cars riding on your bumper. I wish I had kept that car. It could easily fetch a five figure dollar amount today. You just felt you were really driving something. Maybe wearing something. Oh so manual. Oh so humble. It was the undergrad’s car of choice. The most iconic car after Henry Ford’s Model A.