A Stitch In Time Saves Nine . . . and You Can Count On That!

Elizabeth and I have a very old quilt that
was made by Hulda, her grandmother. We
remembered it was tucked away in an old
wooden chest. Almost together, we thought . . .
it is so beautiful. At least we could place it
on the top of our made-up bed each
morning . . . but not use it for a cover
during the night.
                         
            That was a good decision!

The other day, I wondered just how many
individual stitches that Elizabeth's grandmother
had made to create the quilt. So . . . using a
magnifying glass, I dutifully counted them.

                          Each one.
         Came up with thirteen thousand,
                    nine hundred, and
                          forty two!

Some folks must be thinking that I have a lot
of time on my hands. Actually, I took a shortcut
in counting the stitches, by measuring the quilt
(5 X 8 feet) and then carefully counting the
number of stitches in just one of the 12 X 12 inch
quilt squares. Pretty clever, I'd say . . .

I figured that I was counting on doing a lot more
that day than to use it up counting.

           That was another good decision!

Some day I am determined to count the number of
granulated sugar crystals there are in a 4 lb (l.8kg)
bag of white sugar. (The bag says that the sugar is
"Naturally Fat-Free and has only 15 Calories
PER TSP.")

           Maybe, I will pass on that project.

                     That could possibly
                            be still yet
                              another
                         good decision!

Prayer is heard

prayer is heard
even though 
not always
in ways
we think it
will surely
come      

 
                          -This piece came to me early this morning
                            even before I awoke. It is written
                            the best I remember.
                            Now . . . I have come to believe that
                            it has something to do with Advent . . .
   

ARE OYSTER REALLY NOISY?

Just returned from
the local food mart to
buy a couple of cans of
oysters.

Each Christmas Eve, for
as long as I remember,
the tradition was to serve
oyster stew for the
evening meal.
(Of course,not all of the
family liked it.)

But still. . .
it was all we had.

I recall the childhood
ditty:

   What kind of a
         noise annoys 
                 an oyster???

   A noisy noise
         annoys
       an oyster.

Go ahead . . . try it . . .

and then

convince a group of
friends to repeat it,
like a mantra for the
Christmas Season!

Mowing the Lawn in December

So . . . there I am

following behind our

bright-red, trusty, self-propelled,

gas lawn mower.

One with a high performance,

easy start, over head cam, engine.

So what if it is 

        mid-December.

There will be

stranger occurrences

as climate change

persists.

Anyway -

     grasslets are

             green and growing!

                      Daylily bulbs are

             sending up

                       their shoots.

     Thank heavens . . . crocuses

             have good sense to

                       stay submerged.

                                          For now -

                                         

   

Amazing That Spell-Check Didn't Catch It!

I join many who are concerned about gun violence in the U.S.
Recently, I took it upon myself to write a satirical summary of
recent media reports on the dramatic surge of national gun
sales. What follows is a comprehensive compilation of a very
complicated issue.

A gum-buying surge appears to be unparalleled, with crowds
jumping the gum and flocking to area gum shows. According
to gum-maker industry executives, buyers deluge stores in
search of unusually potent varieties of gums as well as high
capacity chewing gum packs. All this fervor, even allowing for
the normal escalation in gum sales that predictably follow
increases in gas prices.

All in all, this represents a pretty dramatic uptick in demand
within just one month. The National Gum Association (NGA)
says that of special note are the record runs on "military-style"
gums (products intentionally augmented with special whiteners
and brighteners) that assault teeth with a promise to eliminate
"problems" overnight. It seems that some will do whatever it
takes to become top gum.

Certain outlets report that the highest sale of gums are those
sold in high-capacity canisters designed for the Chiclets A48's
holding as many as fifty-three gums at a time!

All this "emptying shelves market fury" is leading got a consumer
demand for sweeping proposals to revise existing gum control
laws such as:

    -Even more stringent background checks.
    -Prior to purchases, conduct on-site customer exams with
     special attention given to those persons with loose teeth, unstable
     dentures, serious overbite, etc.
    -Improved gum-ingredient laboratory analysis with specific
     attention given to higher-than-normal levels of chicle.

Meanwhile, gums continue to literally shoot off the shelves and
fly out the door in spite of strong and persistent gum lobby opposition.

Chew on that!


                          *Brands included in this market survey-report:
                                 Bazooka, Zapp, Turbo, Big Red, Cinnaburst,
                                 Dentyne, Doublemint, Double Bubbel, Eclipse,
                                 Chiclets, Excel, Freedent, Hubba Bubba,
                                 Hoodia, Orbit, Tidalwave, and Trident.

A s I s

Through my cabin window,
a wing-flash of white,
an iridescent tail.
A Magpie alights
with a bounce!

Glossy-black head,
crown feathers
     stick
        skyward,
            mussed up -
out of place. Only three,
     maybe four.

Couldn't
     tell
         precisely.

Bothersome.

I wonder why those
      so few
          feathers
      catch my eye?

The bird is
      such a gem -
           as
              is.

The cabin's window glass
      mirrors my wizened
           mane with it's
      thin hair.
Strands of white,
      lying mostly smooth.
A persistent few,
      disheveled -
            not
                perfect.
                                                                            NOTES:    Begun while at Denali National Park and
That's it -                                                                                completed the following day. We saw a
      the bird is                                                                         spectacular rainbow on our way to
           me!                                                                             Anchorage.
                                                                                                                       -Clem J. Nagel  8/25/2006
Who, I pray,
      ever looked upon a
           partial rainbow
               and thought -
YUCK!
      What an
           ugly
                 sight.

In a Doldrum

No winds at sea.
Ship's sails
at half-mast,
waiting for a breeze.
Hoping to
set sail
once again.

Flags at half-mast
across countless nations.
Hoping to be safe -
to unfurl
the world's Spirit.


Once again.


Just one week ago, on Friday, November 13th
a horrific attack occurred in Paris, France.

A MISSISSIPPI RIVER ADVENTURE

I live just 1 1/2 blocks from the mighty Mississippi
River - and so wish I could live even closer! What
a majestic creation!

It was summer, and a group of writing friends were
spending a "writing afternoon" at my house. After
a couple hours had passed, I put forth a suggestion
that we all pile into the van and drive over to the nearby
Banfill-Center for the Arts situated on Rice Creek, just
before the small river joins the Mississippi. There, we
could spend some time by the river, find a bench, and
do some writing.

Little did I know that not one of the other four people
in the group had ever been right down by the river!
They told me that they had only viewed it by looking
down from up high on one of the many road turnouts.

No wonder they seemed somewhat apprehensive as
we left the van and began our hike down to the river
bank.

And, there was the river! Right before us!

It cooperated by arranging for a lone Belted Kingfisher
to perch on one of the overhanging branches at the
confluence of the two rivers, and to have a small swarm
of minnows "hang out" right close to the shore. A Pileated
Woodpecker let out a call as it did it's swooping flight off
into the distance.

We totally forgot to find a bench to do our writing. Instead,
we piled back into the van, returned to the back deck, and
continued writing in the safety of a nearby, cultivated
flower garden.

W H A T A T R I P T H A T W A S !

Elizabeth and I have just returned from a four-day
"Poetry and Writing Festival" at Grand Marais on
Lake Superior. The trip north from the Twin Cities
was anything but relaxing . . .  heavy fog the whole
way. As the driver, I clenched the steering wheel 
with eyes glued on the faint road ahead.

We arrived on time and had a fantastic time with
a great group of writers from mainly Wisconsin and
Minnesota. The presenters were most creative!

Lake Superior exceeded our memories with the 
sunsets, sunrises, and the sound of waves.

What follows is an account of an earlier trip around
Lake Superior a few years ago . . .

    And what a trip it was! Last month, Elizabeth
    and I went on a road-trip all around Lake
    Superior. The leaves were at their peak. We had
    no plans as to where to sleep each night. We
    dawdled. We took every side road that went 
    toward the "Big Sea" that we could manage. 
    We just walked the beaches, looked for stones,
    listened to the waves and wind. Met some very
    interesting people in out-of-the-way-cafes.
    Of course, Elizabeth took photos and I wrote
    poetry. 

    The tires on our brand-new car went around 
    one million, three hundred eighty six thousand
    times until we arrived back home. (I figured out
    the number of miles and the circumference of a
    tire and multiplied!)

            Amazing the things that people do
                     with their brains!

ROSES ARE RED

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Sugar is sweet
And so are you

   (Vowels make a difference!)

          A

Rasas ara rad
Vaalats ara blaa
Sagar as swaat
And sa ara yaa

           E

Reses ere red
Veelets ere blae
Seger es sweet
End se ere yes

            I

Risis iri rid
Viilits iri blii
Sigir is switt
Ind si eri yiu

            O

Rosos oro rod
Voolots oro bloo
Sogor or swoot
Ond so oro yoo

            U

Rusus uru rud
Vuuluts uru bluu
Sugur us swuut
Und su uru yuu

The Old Arse is A-Moverin

The Old Arse is A-Moverin -
                 A-Moverin
                       A-Moverin and
                              I'm moving on.

One of our daughters stayed for a while in New
Zealand. She and her future husband Dave,
lived on a farm where Susan baked bread for the
family and Dave helped to shear sheep. When
the two of them arrived back, she had a somewhat
revolutionized vocabulary. One phrase she now
used quite often was "Rattle your days" which
was Kiwi slang to tell someone to hurry up or to
get a move on. Dags are the dried exrement
hanging from the wool at the back of sheep.
Rattling days would be when sheep are running.

     See you later . . .
                   got to get a move on!

One Just Has To Give It A Try!

As a little kid of 6 or 7 years old, our
family would regularly eat Schweigert's
Braunschweiger. (I remember it being
called liverwurst.) My dad loved it! I didn't
at first.

The liverwurst would be spread on little
crackers (usually Hi Ho's, I liked the Lone
Ranger), and then consumed with a tall glass of
cold milk.

There was a Schweigert radio commercial
back in 1947 that promoted liverwurst, and . . .
I got the great idea to send them possible
words for a commercial that they could use.

Liverup . . . things could be wurst!

Always an optimist, I actually thought they
would jump at the chance to use it!

          Guess what?  They didn't.

As Moses was once overheard to have said back
whenever . . .

      You can't help but give it a try.

Thunbergia Tamed

   I was being watched
          from within
        a dense tangle
            of vines.

               Eyes -
        liquid and dark,
    framed within petals
       of yellow-orange,

          peering at me
            from within
           an edge of a
         Kenyan jungle.

             That was
              long ago.

           Today, I see
     that same vine, with its
 liquid-dark eyes, and petals
       of yellow-orange,
    clinging to a cluster of

red geraniums - growing in
        a backyard deck
              flower pot.


        -I will never forget seeing
         those flowers from a corn
         field bordering an edge 
         of a jungle

C r e e p i n g C h u c k

The dilemma:  to eradicate, to extricate these pesty 
lawn plants to another locale, or to simply let them
be what they are.

Could it possibly be that - just maybe they thrive on attention?!

Perhaps to not be so harsh on them, would do the trick. After all,
they are part of the "wed of life."

Meanwhile, the Creeping Charlie plants live by stringing low
through the grass . . . sending out new roots at each and every
stem-joint.

And, they are in the mint family. This you can tell by their
beautiful blue florets, the minty odor, and the square stems. (A handy
rule of thumb mantra, could be:

            All mints have square stems . . . but not all plants
                         with square stems are mints.

Things could be worse . . . the stems could morph to be the size of
garden hoses, the flowers as big as bushel baskets, and the copiously
exuded odor of the crushed leaves and stems would necessitate
everyone in the neighborhood to don gas masks!

Now, that would be something for the national and local news!

I ONCE THOUGHT THAT I COULDN'T FIX THINGS

Guess what ?! I was just about ready to give one of my grandsons
a call for some consultation on how to get my computer back-on-track
and running again . . . (Every time I would go to write an e-mail, it
ran super slow and the letters and the cursor kept jerking around the
screen.)

It was then, I checked my moose. (Oops! mouse) Darn it anyway, I
hate it when the computer changes words on me . . . OK, back to the
issue at hand. I checked my mouse to see if it needed new batteries.
It didn't. (I remembered that I had put new ones in only two days before.)

Then, I happened to look on the bottom of the mouse - and there I found
a smeared smidgen of gunk (pizza or whatever?)

With great skill, I deftly flicked the stuff off from the mouse bottom and . . .
now it works !

                       That     means     that     I     fixed     it !

                                       WRIGHT ?

HOPEFULNESS

My prayers
are as wisps of
field stubble
blown across
open prairies.

Tumbleweeds
race with the wind,
lodging where
they are needed.

Seeds well scattered
are my prayers -
sown in hope of
being rooted.

YOUR GUESS IS AS GOOD AS MINE

This spring season is almost totally out of whack!
Some would say non-sensical. In the not-so-recent
past, a person could count on certain weather events
occurring in a sequential fashion. Yes - predictable.

Elizabeth and I so love gardening and can hardly wait
to begin! We have had the packets of veggies and
flower seeds for some time now. A normal spring
would see the first of the peas in the ground by the
first of March (at least in this part of Minnesota.) It is
well into the third week in April and we slipped them
into the cold soil just last week.

This morning's "exploration walk" braved the thick,
cold wind. The elderberry bushes have, just now,
pushed out their buds to greet the world. Normally,
they are among the first to bud out and flower.
Snowdrops did come up.

However, the joyous news is that our bougainvillea
vines are crawling all over the inside windows of our
"garden room". They cling to light fixtures and rungs
of the rocking chair for support. And they are blooming
in a profusion of pastel pinks and oranges. It is as if
they somehow know that this is the time for them to
escape to the outside to explore the fresh spring air.

Of course, the outside vincas and pachysandra peer out
from under last year's fall's dead leaves, waiting for
just enough warmth to launch their flowers for yet one
more season.

Meanwhile - the robins are caroling!

IN THESE DAYS - ONE HAS TO LOOK AHEAD

(One just never knows what lies ahead) Now that's a common
 saying I have often heard. And, who hasn't?   NOTE: The following essay on
 Abraham Lincoln is almost totally made up . . . other than Lincoln was assassinated
 on the 15th of April. (A true thing includes inventing the floating dry dock.)
                                        ).

                            *   *   *   *   *   *

    An Envelope Belonging to Abraham Lincoln?

 April, 3, 2011

 Dear Keepers of Official U.S. Documents, 

 I believe I have uncovered something of historic value and that it should
 be archived somewhere in Washington, DC. I can't believe what I am
 about to share with you.

 I found a very old envelope in a side pocked of an ancient storage trunk in
 Wanamingo, Minnesota.  I almost paid no heed to it. On the front of the
 envelope was a "to do" list which, at first, didn't catch my eye. That was . . .
 until I read it! 

 Does what I found have any value? What should I do with it?

 Respectfully submitted, 

         Clem J. Nagel

                              (The "To Do" List)
            
                                        To Do Soon
                         -Finish the speech of Gettysburg
                         -Give more thought to the idea of a floating dry dock
                         -Empty garbage as soon as I get home
                         -    ?  ?     (I was unable to decipher the 4th entry)
                         -Decide what to do about the problem in Mankato, Minnesota.

 What really triggered things for me were the words "Gettysburg", "dry dock"*, and
 "Mankato." It could only mean one thing. Abraham Lincoln must have scribbled the
 list on the envelope while somewhere away from home.

                        *(Note: This part about the dry dock is true). On 5/22/1849, Lincoln
                          received Patent No. 6469 for a device to lift boats over shoals. It was
                          an invention that never got manufactured.

 I then turned the envelope over and couldn't believe my eyes!  Whoever had written
 on the backside of the envelope was obviously confused in trying to come up with
 a phrase to begin some kind of a speech. There were crossed out words, here and there
 notations in parentheses, comments clearly added by someone else who must have
 known the writer. Just who was that ghost-writer traveling with Lincoln at the time?
 His wife? . . . or someone else? Mysteries abound! Fascinating, to say the least.

             (THE WRITING FOUND ON THE BACK OF THE ENVELOPE)

                                          The Talk at Gettysburg
                                  (years?)
                   Fourscore and seven days ago  (three score and 27 years ago?) our country . . . 
                   2 x 2 score and (fore?) four (4) years ago, our country . . . 

                           Abe, that doesn't add up. Just take my word for it!

                   OK.  Just possibly, use "A long time ago?"  (not sure)
                   31,755 days ago, our country . . .

                           Abe, do not use this ! ! !

                    One score, 7 years and 21,900 days ago, our country . . .

                           Abe Dear, keep it simple! Just use 87, believe me!  Love,  Mary

                     87 years ago (or maybe, just fourscore and seven years ago?) I'll have to
                     give it more consideration . . .

     It's a little early, but need to check with Mary to see if those tickets for the
                     theatre have arrived yet?
                   

An Envelope Belonging to Abraham Lincoln?

                Abraham Lincoln was assassinated mid-April                  

An Envelope Belonging to Abraham Lincoln

April 3, 2011

Dear Keepers of Official U.S. Documents,

I believe I have uncovered something of historic value and that it should
be archived somewhere in Washington, DC. I can't believe what I am
about to share with you.

I found a very old envelope in a side-pocket of an ancient storage trunk in
Wanamingo, MN.  I almost paid no heed to it. On the front of the envelope
was a "to do" list which, at first, didn't catch my eye. That was . . .
until I read it! 

Does what I found have any value? What should I do with it?

Respectfully, submitted, 

        Clem J. Nagel

                                    (THE "TO DO" LIST)

                                TO DO SOON

                                  -Finish the speech for Gettysburg
                                  -Give more thought to the idea of a floating dry dock
                                  -Empty garbage, as promised, as soon as I return home
                                  -    ?   ?    (I was unable to decipher the 4th entry)
                                  -Decide what to do with the problem in Mankato

What triggered things for me were the words "Gettysburg", "dry dock",* and
"Mankato".  It could only mean one thing. Lincoln must have scribbled the list
on the envelope while somewhere away from home.

           *Dry dock. On 5/22/1849, Abraham Lincoln received Patent No. 6469
              for a device to lift boats over shoals, an invention that never got manufactured.

I then turned the envelope over and couldn't believe my eyes! Whoever had written
on the back side of the envelope was obviously confused in trying to come up with
a phrase to begin some kind of a speech. There were crossed out words, notations in
parentheses here and there, comments clearly added by someone else who must have
known the writer. Just who was that ghost-rider traveling with Lincoln at the time?
His wife? . . . or someone else?   Mysteries abound!   Fascinating, to say the least.

       (THE WRITING FOUND ON THE BACK OF THE ENVELOPE)

                                 Gettysburg Address
                                  (years?)
   Fourscore and seven days ago  (3 score and 27 years ago?)  our country . . . 
   2 x 2 score and (fore?) four (4)  years ago, our country . . .

            Abe, that doesn't add up. Just take my word for it!

    Perhaps, just possibly, use "A long time ago?" (not sure)
    31,755 days ago, our country . . .

            Abe, do not use this ! ! !

     One score, 7 years and 21,900 days ago, our country . . . 

            Abe Dear, keep it simple! Just use 87, believe me!           Love, Mary

      87 years ago (or maybe, just fourscore and seven years ago?) I'll have
      to give it more consideration . . .  It's a little early, but need to remember
      to check with Mary to see if those tickets for the theatre 
                                                                             have arrived yet?

                       
                                             

TO IT

Not so sure
I'm up to it.
But,
I do bring
experience
to it.

When it comes down
to it,
I will just hold on
to it.
And then, do it
when I
get around
to it.

Nothing
to it.

News Flash: General Beauregard Lee In BIG Trouble!

I just received an urgent message from Minnesota Fat Cat. If you remember, he is the Midwest's honorable groundhog.

Minnesota Fat Cat says that his southern cousin, General Beauregard Lee, who lives in Atlanta, is in big trouble. It seems on Groundhog Day, Beau predicted an early spring this year for the south. 

However,  four - let me repeat that - four major storms have hit the south in just the last couple weeks. Some folks are suggesting he get his eyes checked. Others are reacting more strongly and suggesting he should be arrested for making false predictions. 

I hope he can weather this storm (pardon the puns) and clear his reputation. Because normally he is a reliable groundhog sort of guy. And a genial southerner. Why, he'll make up a batch of sugared ice tea when he sees you coming and sweep out his den to welcome you. He even will check to see if the pictures on the wall are straight. (He does worry about those many earthquakes in Oklahoma).

Because climate change has screwed up the winter weather big time and left meteorologists's computer models crashing, groundhog predictions are more important than they have ever been. Folks need to know when to put out the deck furniture and grill baby grill.And when to start walking in the woods looking for morels.

Speaking of spring say a prayer or two for the Massachusetts groundhog. They have so much snow in Boston that the poor fellow didn't even try to find his way through all the snow. Now there is a groundhog suffering cabin fever in a major way! When all that snow eventually does go away and he can emerge, he'd better have his sunglasses handy so as not to damage his eyes.

THREE LENTEN POEMS (2,4,6,8,2 syllables)

pinnacle

person
human being
two-legged, featherless
always striving to be on top
alone


living courageously

it is
right and proper
virtues become habits
temperance, courage, and justice
for all



challenge

our world
demands that we
persevere to always creatively
cope with the world
do it !

The Gift that Keeps On Giving

Every year we buy a balsam tree for Christmas. We can't remember where we bought our first tree. Though I do remember buying our first imported glass ornaments at the department store on Wisconsin Avenue. 

Every Christmas we add a new ornament or two to our collection. When we take them carefully from the box, they are a review of our life together.

I love the smell the tree radiates. It is a reminder of celebrations of Christmas past.

We have learned to make a fresh cut at the bottom of the trunk as soon as we bring it home on the day before Thanksgiving. Then the tree stands in a bucket of water in the garage - until it is time to bring it in and decorate it. This access to water - even if it freezes over - is the secret to keeping it fresh and preventing it from shedding its needles. Sometimes the tree even puts out new pale green tips on the ends of its branches.

After New Years Day, the tree is stripped of its lights and decorations. It is hauled outside and tied to the edge of the deck - next to the bird feeders. 

The birds are overjoyed at this shelter that suddenly has sprung up in their midst. They fly in and out of its branches all winter long, as they come to feed on seeds and suet we put out for them.

We call our balsam tree the gift that keeps on giving!

THAT ROSALYNN . . . SHE HIT THE NAIL ON THE HEAD !

Gosh . . . it seems a long time ago.  I was volunteering for the Minneapolis Habitat for Humanity and had been asked to introduce Rosalynn Carter to the crowd that had gathered. The pastor who had been asked to give the opening prayer had failed to show up on time and so I had been asked to do that as well. It seemed so "impromptu" and it actually was. Both of the Carters have been my heroes ever since the first Habitat home was built near Americus, Georgia.

Both Rosalynn and I were up at the podium and after the prayer, it was time to introduce her. (I think I was a little nervous.)

I had been given a two-foot long 2X4, a hammer, and a 16 penny nail to be part of the event. The plan was to dramatize the beginning of still another Habitat home on the lot just adjacent to where the ceremony was taking place.

Rosalynn was to pound the nail into the board.    So far, so good.

She kneeled down by the 2X4. With the hammer, she just got the nail started . . . and then looked up at me.  Then she said  "I bet that you don't think I can do this, right?"  (The look on my face must have belied the worry that she would slip and hit her finger.) Don't remember what my reply was . . . but the  crowd laughed.

Then, she deftly whacked in the nail with just three blows.  The crowd cheered. Rosalynn went on to say that she and Jimmie had worked on ____ (number to be filled) Habitat homes so far !

I so wish that I had thought to keep the board with the nail in it.

A Perfect World? B o r i n g . . . !

When I was a child, I noticed some major discrepancies in the Genesis story about Eden. I was old enough to know things died - but if Eden was the perfect world, did that mean there was no death?

That's where things got sticky in my child's mind. Either nothing new was birthed or major over- population problems would occur very quickly. Imagine a world overrun with squirrels - or rabbits!

So I concluded adults didn't know what they were talking about with this Eden-business.

By the time I became an adult I learned that stories were not always to be taken literally. Stories are not intended to be video clips of reality, but serve other purposes. They are a means to convey truths that need to be passed on from generation to generation.

Later, I learned that even the gold standard of memoir, in which people's account of some facet in their life, does not reflect some sort of "accurate" accounting. Think about your own life when you were twenty or thirty and how your story has changed over time as you changed while maturing.

As for perfection, we use the term as loosely as we use the term love - like saying I love your outfit or I love springtime. I even question whether anything can be perfect. Instead, I am a fan of uniqueness and the artistry of individual differences - not perfection.

Those apples in Genesis? Were there no apple-worms in Eden? Hold that fruit in your hand and wax eloquent about its perfection. But if you look more closely, no apple is identical to the next apple. So what does that say about perfection? Apple growers and horticulturists are continually tinkering with apples to generate more varieties with different characteristics. So what does that say about the existence of a perfect apple?

When it comes to us humans, imagine being married to a perfect person. Someone who never makes mistakes and knows all the answers.  I remember sitting in an East Indian restaurant in Santa Fe, where a man at the next table was "explaining" Indian cuisine to his wife. It was pretty humorous, because it was obvious he had never eaten Indian food. 

He concluded with a question: why would anyone travel all the way from India to open a restaurant in New Mexico? Of course, he had the answer to his own question. And his wife took it all in as if he was the authority to end all authority. Never occurred to either of them to ask the restaurant's various staff what motivated them to move to Santa Fe!  

Speaking of New Mexico, I once read an article in a very boring, but highly regarded psychology journal. I have long since forgotten what the article was about. But if I close my eyes, I can see the author's use of an example three paragraphs down from the beginning of the article. 

Here is his example. It has been my guide for a non-perfect life ever since I read it: 

   

       A man entered a shop. He was looking for one of those belts common in this part of the 

       country - silver-tooled ovals linked to each other, with turquoise embedded in each oval.  

       The  shopkeeper watched the man examine the merchandise. The man was obviously 

       puzzled. He asked the shopkeeper why the belts on the right side of the store cost so much 

       more than the belts hanging on the left side of the store. The man said "why are each 

       oval of the belts on the left side of the store perfect, while those on the right side flawed. 

       But the imperfect ones on the right cost a great deal more?"

       The shopkeeper smiled at him. "The ones on the right were individually crafted by artists. 

       While the ones on the right are factory-produced."

                        I am a work of art, not something produced in a factory!

WHERE?

Where does

        mountain water flow?

               To the sea?

                       To a bottomless

                             pit?

               To nurture life-giving 

                             crops?

Into our souls

         to refresh?

              Flow

                    carefully, 

                             water.

Always Something New!

After a recent snowfall, the trees were laden white with the fresh, clean snow. With every slight breeze, puffs would settle out like big globs of froth - on their way down to the ground.

The bird feeders over the deck were a busy place. Little birds flew into the balsam Christmas tree we placed outside in early January. They checked out what looked good to fill themselves with energy for cold days. Resident grey squirrels showed up to eat seeds that had fallen from the feeders - and they enjoyed a long drink of water from the pan that held a heater element, which keeps the water in it from freezing.

Today, it was the usual crowd - sparrows, an occasional cardinal and a saucy blue jay, nuthatches, chickadees, and juncos. Downy and hairy woodpeckers took turns at the two suet feeders.

It would be easy to say same-old same-old. The same flocks filling themselves with birdseed.

But this daily activity calls me to pay attention.

As I gazed out the window, I saw something I'd never seen before. A blue jay headed for one of the suet feeders and precariously balanced itself. With its long beak, it acted like a woodpecker, pulling bits of suet from the feeder.

If I had given the congregation of birds a cursory glance, I would never have seen this blue jay supplementing his diet with suet - and playing the role of a woodpecker - as though it had studied the smaller woodpeckers who had been coming all winter. His audition as woodpecker was a pretty floppy act and not likely to earn it an Oscar. Several times it almost fell off - like a clown entertaining its human audience of one.

But in the cold, a bird does what it needs to, in order to stay healthy rather than hungry.

Today, what have you paid attention to that brought a smile to your face?

(Part II) LITTLE NORELCO'S ESCAPADE: A JOURNEY OF DISCOVERY

                             (What follows, occurred within just a matter of minutes.)

O'Cleron relaxed and simply allowed the journey of exploration to unfold. First came a sense of skimming across endless furrows, first one and then another. Then he skidded directly into a patch of stubble that covered the terrain for what seemed like forever. O'Cleron had to be oh-so-careful as to not disappear into a gaping hole that presented itself almost too late!

Then a flapping protuberance had to be negotiated carefully (a second one was to appear later!) Whoever heard of such a trip!

Then O'Cleron carefully nosed his way toward a looming pinnacle that was just ahead. One or two (maybe three) stiff hairs stuck straight out from its somewhat oily surface. Moving closer to what he thought to be along the front range of the pinnacle, he saw two, small, closely positioned cave entrances. Peering into one of them, O'Cleron wisely made the decision not to go spelunking. More than one tantalizingly small, gooey, roughly spheroid balls were lodged just within each dark cavern.

                                                           O'Cleron moved on.

Positioned on either side of the pinnacle, two clear, azure-blue pools came into view - each one was protected by a bushy, overhanging brow. Careful not to become entangled in the fringe-like barriers, he masterfully avoided stepping into the pools. One of the pools suddenly disappeared, but only momentarily. (For an instant, O'Cleron wondered if he had only imagined it.) Presently, the other pool was gone in a blink . . . then reappeared like magic. What an amazing world!

                                                                        * * * *

The time came for O'Cleron's exploratory escapade to come to a close. He felt his battery power was waning to a low ebb. He carefully nosed his way into a seemingly wide-open space, free of bristles and caves. Pausing for just a moment and being careful not to succumb to an urge to lie down and rest, O'Cleron just knew he had to return to his drawer of safety.

Upon his return, he found the drawer still ajar, as if waiting for his arrival. It was just open enough for Little Norelco (oops! O'Cleron ) to regain the protection of his cozy abode.

                      O'Cleron had a dream that night . . .  a voice echoed through an empty room . . .


                                                      Oh Norelco, 

                        so much remains ripe for exploration. 

                                       You are the one! 

(Part 2) LITTLE NORELCO'S ESCAPADE: A JOURNEY OF DISCOVERY

(At the end of Part 1, we had left O'Cleron as he "felt himself hoisted to a considerable height and then turned on.")

      What follows, occurred just within a matter of minutes. O'Cleron relaxed and simply allowed the journey of exploration to unfold.

First came a sense of skimming across furrows, first one and then another. (These furrows were not what one would call deep crevasses.) After transversing the furrows, he skidded directly into a patch of stubble that covered the terrain for what seemed to be forever. O'Cleron had to be oh-so-careful as to not disappear into a gaping hole that presented itself. It was almost too late but he managed to avoid falling in.

Then a flapping protuberance had to be negotiated carefully ( a second one was to appear later!) Whoever heard of such a trip! Then O'Cleron cautiously nosed his way toward a pinnacle that presented itself just ahead. One or two (maybe three) stiff hairs stuck straight out from its somewhat oily surface. Moving to what he thought to be the front range of the pinnacle, his eyes fell on two, small, closely positioned cave openings. Peering into one of them, O'Cleron wisely made the decision not to go spelunking. More than one small, tantalizing gooey, roughly spheroid balls were lodged just inside the entrance of each dark cavern.

                                                        O'Cleron moved on.

Positioned on either side of the looming pinnacle, two clear, azure-blue pools presently came into sight. Each was protected by a bushy brow. Careful not to become entangled in the fringe-like barriers, O'Cleron masterfully avoided stepping into the pools. Then, one pool disappeared, but only momentarily. For an instant, he wondered if he had merely imagined it all. Then, in a blink, the other was gone . . . then it too reappeared like magic. What an amazing world!

The the came for O'Cleron's exploratory adventures to come to a close. He knew his battery wouldn't last forever. He carefully nosed his way into a seemingly wide-open space, free of bristles and caves. He paused for just a moment being careful not to succumb to an urge to lie down somewhere and rest.  O'Cleron knew he had to return to his drawer of safety. He found the drawer still open and just wide enough for Little Norelco (oops! O'Cleron) to regain the protection of his cozy abode.

                  O'Cleron dreamed that night . . . a voice echoed throughout an empty room . . .

 
                                                                Oh Norelco,

                                             so much remains ripe for exploration.

                                                            You are the one!

LITTLE NORELCO'S ESCAPADE: A JOURNEY OF DISCOVERY (Part One)

I recently bought a brand-new Philips Norelco Aquatec electric shaver. It is a beautiful black, silver, and red machine The old one just finally gave up. This new one has a "life-time guarantee" which doesn't mean much, since I have traveled a little over seventy-four times around the sun. (However, I'll take the guarantee as a vote of confidence.)

The story I wish to tell is one of discovery through the "eyes" of my Norelco shaver. I should explain that, throughout what you might choose to read, the word O'Cleron appears. O'Cleron is simply Norelco spelled backward.

But, I must move on and tell the tale, for as Eugene Ionesco (1909-1994) is quoted to have said: Over-explanation separates us from astonishment. What follows is a strangely intimate, yet astonishing account.                And- it recurs often . . .

* * * * * *   Part One

Little Norelco realized he simply needed to disguise his name. There was no question about it. His ensuing journey has to be one that absolutely no one would ever discover that he had undertaken.

              Hence, it came to be that Little Norelco, took on a new name.
                                        He renamed himself.
                                                O'Cleron.

His escapade would require a healthy dose of spizzerinctum to be truly successful. And spizzerinctum was something O'Cleron possessed from early on. His creators took note of his guts, nerve, backbone, verve, and zeal from the very first. In fact, he was almost assigned the name Spizzer when he came to life on the factory assembly-line.

              But now . . . to O'Cleron's journey of his lifetime.

With his sleek form newly re-charged, he was more than ready for whatever might lay ahead. And, O'Cleron was up to it. How his naive curiosity would come to serve him, is just part of the story.

              Thus begins the journey of his lifetime.

With his brand-new, fully-charged battery -  O'Cleron whirred and whirred inside the closed drawer. The vibration was too much . . . and the drawer opened just enough for Little Norelco (oops! O'Cleron)
to jump out and tumble to the floor. Lucky that a soft rug broke his fall. As luck would have it, he unfortunately fell directly on his switch and his whirring came to an end. But, not before the sound attracted the curiosity of Pixie and Maggie, the resident cats.

Initially, the cats tentatively pawed away at their newly found toy. Then one of them gave it an exploratory nip. The bite was just hard enough and at the precise point, to trigger O'Cleron back to life! That spooked the felines and they skittered away and hid. All the buzzing attracted one of the two-legged inhabitants who came, retrieved O'Cleron, and turned him off.

Peace and quiet again . . . but not for long.

O'Cleron felt himself being taken out of the drawer, hoisted to a considerable height, and then . . . turned on.

                   His journey continued!                  (end of Part I)

Minnesota Fat Cat Discusses the State of the World

Minnesota Fat Cat writes his yearly column: (He is not quite as cranky as last year, enduring the polar vortex that was stuck above his burrow.)

It has been a year since I last wrote to you, my trusted and sometimes ornery friends. Yes, I know - today is the day groundhogs across the country are  supposed to predict when spring will arrive by emerging from our cozy dens and checking out our shadows. Alas, with climate change altering the weather map so drastically, any predicting that we might attempt is about as accurate as those meteorologists predicting a New York City blizzard.

Yesterday as is my custom, I watched the Super Bowl. The big controversy this year was over the inflation level of the footballs. Deflategate, I'd call it. Some folks don't seem to have anything better to do than to mess with the footballs - or spend endless media time discussing the whole scandal - which was more exciting than the game itself. Next year, maybe the focus will be on the size of big toes used for the kickoff. How trivial can you get!

Nevertheless, I gathered together my favorite snacks and settled in before my television. Eating seems to be the most cogent ritual associated with the big event. A groundhog can't eat enough unhealthy food on such occasions.  Same to all of you who did likewise on Sunday.

Fortunately, only humans have been the target for this obesity scam. Eat this, don't eat this, eat that, don't eat that. Who can keep track of the latest edict anyway. I mean, we groundhogs have to keep our weight up so that we look all sweet and cuddly. Who would listen to a scrawny groundhog on the 2nd of February? It would just set off another media blitz. Which then would distract from the importance of shadow-observing and non-observing.

Actually, this winter here has not given us  much to complain about. Video clips of the Northeastern part of the country have been another story. There, driving has become like dominos.  Who can create the largest number of cars, SUVs, trucks, and semis piled up and obstructing the traffic flow? If humans were as smart as I am, they wouldn't be out driving around in such bad road conditions. (I just park my Maserati for the winter's duration. Saves getting salt in its underparts). They'd stay home, watch PBS, or do sudoku and crossroad puzzles. Or settle in with a good book.

And they wouldn't get measles form those unvaccinated children either. If you get lonely, send out a flurry of emails and you will be connected - just like that. Even to my cousin Phil in Pennsylvania.

Speaking of books, lately I have been reading about rivers. A fascinating topic for groundhogs since we tend to avoid rivers like the plague.

Speaking of climate change, listening to climate change denying  rallies is like watching the Ku Klux Klan in its heyday. Speakers (and floods of printed media) prey on people's fears. No, not fears of some apocalyptic world that has become inhabitable. Fears of unemployment have been the ticket. Want to scare someone - preach the loss of jobs.

And fears of government regulation. Even a groundhog such as me can see the fallacy in their arguments. It is a given that energy is needed to run the world - why not try sunshine and all those other clean sources? I say, keep your nose to the ground and you can't go wrong. And don't get into this fracking business - a terrible means of destruction of the underground.

And all that gun violence? Believe you me, that's another thing to pay attention to. I don't take kindly to all those guns. Shooting up schools is not fair play - and the solution does not lie in issuing every kid a gun. Nor is hunting groundhogs for sport fair play. Horrors!

As for all the warring and hate directed at anyone who is different. What kind of world would it be if there were only groundhogs. No coyotes or wolves. No squirrels or rabbits. No deer or elk. And for that matter, no humans.

I rest my case.

GREAT SCOTT ! ! COULD IT REALLY BE ? ?

On the average, at least once a day (for some folks it may be more) it comes to my attention that each square of our "septic safe" toilet paper tissue has become quite small. The shrinkage may have happened gradually. Usually, I don't pay much attention to things like that.

BUTT, this is of major concern and may have many ramifications. (Come to think about it, does the word "butt" have one or two t's?)

So, I carefully measured a square of tissue paper from the current supply. Here is what I discovered . . .
     
            The piece measured:  4  1/8th inches in width and 3  5/8's inches in length.

Furthermore, the square of tissue is very flimsy. I seem to remember that the individual tissues to have been quite hefty. No wonder then that I now have to unroll at least three thicknesses to do an adequate job. And then, I discovered that the diameter of each toilet paper tube is considerably wider. For a moment, I entertained the possibility that this larger diameter was just for the one I had measured at random. So, I went down on my knees and pulled out another roll from the lower storage cabinet.

             The diameter was identical . . . Amazing !

Becoming ever curious, I went to the Internet and Googled to see if other folks were experiencing the same phenomena.

                  THEY WERE . . . ALL ACROSS THE COUNTRY.

Several web sites agreed that the changes had indeed occurred and that people are simply abuzz.

The original tissue-square size had been 4 1/2 inches by 4 1/2 inches.   An actual square!
Furthermore, it was reported by users that the tube size had significantly increased in diameter.

I wonder if  SCOTT is aware of all of this and have any corporate long or short-term plans to return back to the original product and, this time, call it  "SCOTT'S ORIGINAL."

That might possibly even give a boost to both on-line and in-store sales!

UNPRECEDENTED GUM-BUYING SURGE REPORTED (A satirical writing)

(I have been very upset about all the shootings, and the worship of guns and weapons in our country
  and across the world.  I know that I am not the only one . . .  
  This satirical writing is one way that I try to deal with my feelings, by trying to be humorous. I hope is
  is not offensive.)                      -Clem J. Nagel

Market Analysts report an unparalleled nation-wide surge in the purchase of gum with crowds flocking to area "gum shows."

        Brands included in the Market Report Analysis include: Bazooka, Big Red, Cinnaburst,
        Dentyne, Doublemint, Dubbie Bubble, EclipIce, Excel, Freedent, Hubba Bubba, Hoodia
        Gum, Orbit, Tidalwave, Trident, Turbo, and Zapp Gum.

According to gum-maker industry executives, buyers are deluging stores in search of unusually potent varieties of gum as well as high capacity chewing gum packs. All this, even allowing for spikes in gum sales that predictably follow increases in gas prices. This dramatic uptick in demand comes within just the last month.

The National Gum Association (NGA) says that of special note are the record runs on "military-style' gums (products augmented with special whiteners and brighteners) that assault teeth with promises to wipe out and eliminate "problems" overnight. Some outlets report the highest sale of gum are those in high-capacity canisters designed for the Chiclet A48's that can hold as many as 48 gums at a time.

All this emptying of shelves market-fury is leading consumer demands for sweeping proposals to revise existing gum control laws. Included are:  more strict background checks prior to purchase;  on-site customer exams with special attention given to loose teeth, unstable dentures, and serious overbite.
Improved gum ingredient monitoring is also recommended for future research with specific attention given to higher-than-normal levels of guar gum.

Other future areas of needed gum research are: effects on the alimentary canal from swallowing gum; and how long various brands of gum will perform at optimum efficiency following repeated use.

Meanwhile, gum continues to literally shoot off the shelves and fly out the door in spite of ever-present
and persistent (NGA) gum lobbyist opposition.

CHEW ON THAT!

THE 51ST ANNIVERSARY OF A LANDMARK SURGEON GENERAL REPORT !

It was January of 1964, I was a graduate student at the Wesley Theological Seminary in Washington, D.C. and it was announced that the U.S. Surgeon General, Luther Terry, was going to give an address at Baltimore's Johns Hopkins University that coming Saturday, January 11th.

His subject:  the health risks of smoking. There was no question about it . . . I was going to attend!

Ever since childhood, I have been death against smoking. My mom and dad smoked and I had serious asthma. I had such a hard time breathing, that at night I had to sleep propped up by pillows. I loved the out-of-doors and being able to get away from people who smoked. It seemed they were everywhere.

I arrived at the huge, medical school teaching auditorium where the presentation was to take place. I was so impressed by the state-of-the-art, multimedia screens and the theatre-like seating. There I was
in the midst of hundreds of doctors, nurses, medical staff and . . .

the entire room was filled with smoke.

It appeared that most of those who came to hear the report were habitual smokers. It was horrible, but I was determined to stay.  And, I did. Luther Terry's address was most forthright, data-filled, and convincing. Huge photos of lung tissue (before and after smoking) filled the screens.

And the audience smoked through the whole 90 minutes. I was so relieved to be able to leave the building and return back to the out-of-doors.

                              I don't recall if Luther Terry smoked during his talk.

so small

Snowflake so small.

      What do you amount to

                    in the midst of it all?

Have you ever made

       a difference

                    all by yourself?

Of course

       you have . . .

                   and will !

STARTING TODAY

         Morning, New Year's Day
    resolved to brush teeth more than
              once a month or so.