MY FAVORITE

This time of the year...is my favorite time.

In April and May and early June...the weather is getting warmer...the days are getting longer...my pale skin gets a little more color in it.

Sometimes I get into that 'glass half empty' mode...thinking that June 21...is the longest day of the year...the summer solstice...and from that day forward...the days get shorter...and fall and winter are on their way.

But until then...I will enjoy my favorite time of the year.

Ahhhhh summer...where have you been?


Dan

TOUGH IN TENNESSEE

I had to giggle when I saw these headlines...about a Tennessee officer being fired, because he gave some confiscated beer to a fellow police officer. It took me back a few years.

In the summer of 1971, Haf, and I were stopped in the parking lot at Creole Lanes for underage drinking. We were asked to open the trunk of my car...and figuring I'd have more problems being a smart aleck and playing the 'show me your search warrant' CARD...than just cooperating and opening it up...I opened my trunk.

There...the officer found a well-stocked cooler. For our cooperation...we got a police car ride down to the station...where the officers looked through the spoils in my cooler...and teasingly...in front of us...quizzed each other on 'who' was going to take home the beer. 'Do you like this brand?' 'Nah...you take it.'

I don't know what ever happened to the beer...if they 'did' take it home...or if they poured it out on the ground. It didn't bother me. I was just glad they didn't throw us in jail. I think not playing 'the card'...paid off.

Apparently someone in Tennessee took offense...that the cops did something with the beer they took from a few underage kids. Firing a police officer over it...was a little over the top. Come on people...ease up.


Dan

FRENCH FRIES

I see in the NY Times...a man known for selling the world frozen french fries...has died. No...he wasn't cremated in a deep fryer.

French fries are well liked around our house...but there are few that I like. The bar down the street has lousy fries...so I get chips. I don't like Wendy's new 'sea salt' fries.

McDonalds has decent fries...but my favorite are from Steak 'n' Shake.

They're so bad for me...I don't get them too often. But when I want a good fry...Steak 'n' Shake is where I want to go.

Thanks to Mr. McCain...for his evil desire...to feed all of us...french fries.


Dan

THE MAP

I was Google-Earthing my old hometown of Owensville again today...when something popped into my head that I haven't thought about in many, many years.

Owensville...is a small farming town in southwest Indiana...with a population of about 1000. There are about 20 streets in the town...10 running east/west...and 10 running north/south...none of which are likely more than a mile long...some only a few blocks in length.

I remember my dad had a scale model...'birds eye'...view of Owensville...that he drew by hand on a large poster-board...showing every street...every business...and every residence in the town. This poster was probably 5 feet x 5 feet in dimensions.

My guess is that it no longer exists...as it would now be over 60 years old. The paper...and the pencil sketching...have probably long-since disintegrated or become illegible. Mother Nature...and Father Time...have likely taken their toll on this prized object.

Dad knew the town of Owensville...like the back of his hand...as the old saying goes. In his early working years...one of dads jobs was to deliver ice. Back in those days...there were few, if any, refrigerators...as we know them today. Instead...people had 'ice boxes' that perishables were kept in. Every few days...dad would deliver a big block of ice to the home that would be placed in the 'ice box'...and it would keep things cool...until it melted and needed replaced.

We...always had a refrigerator at our house (at least that's all I recall)...but it was always referred to as...'the ice box'. 

"Dad...where's the milk?"  "It's in the ice box!"

I'm guessing...since dad was of the age and background to have owned ice boxes...and delivered ice to so many home with ice boxes...that he always referred to the object in the house that kept the food cool...as the ice box...not the refrigerator. Because of dads use of the word...my brothers and sisters and I...grew up using the same language when we talked about 'the refrigerator'. It was called...'the ice box'.

In later years of dads work...when I was little...dad delivered bottled gas to the residences of Owensville. Natural gas was not prevalent in those days...so propane gas was used to heat stoves for cooking and baking...and probably for dryers for those that had them...and maybe other things in the home. And when the bottled gas tank ran out...dad delivered and hooked up a new tank for them.

So...over the years...by either needing ice to keep their food cool...and/or needing gas to cook their food...everyone in Owensville knew dad...and he knew everyone...and where they lived...and was invited into their homes...maybe hundreds of times.

So one day...out of need...or out of a desire to maintain his sanity...dad found some stiff poster board and paper...and slowly...meticulously...over hours and days and maybe weeks...drew every street...every business...every home...and the names of those who lived in those homes...on that poster board. The 'map'.

In 1962, when we moved from Owensville to Vincennes...the map...wasn't an item that could make the trip...and it was left behind...in Owensville.

It was of no value to me...then...at age 8. Now...as I approach 58...it would be invaluable. It would be like owning an expensive art piece that belonged in a museum...a city history document.

I would love to own it. It would be a priceless treasure.


Dan

MOTHER'S DAY

Today...May 8, 2011...is Mother’s Day.

In March...my mother would have turned 99 years old…but she died at age 59. I never had the typical mother-son relationship with my mother. You see...she developed a mental illness that consumed much of her life. Because of that...mom wasn’t around much of my life.

When I was 3, mom was placed in the Evansville State Hospital…a hospital for mentally ill individuals. Outside of holiday visits home and an occasional short term leave…mom stayed in that hospital until I was 17 years old. I was 18 when she died.

Mom never got to be that mother figure...that moms are supposed to be. Oh…she loved me dearly and wrote me often…but she wasn’t at home like she’d like to have been.

I had other wonderful family members who filled in for my mom. My sister Joan…my sister-in-law Sylvia…my sister Jean…all helped to raise me...all wonderful women in my life…all wonderful mothers to their own children…and me.

I happened to marry a wonderful woman too…who became a wonderful mother. Now...she’ll tell you she’s not so sure about that...being a good mother and all. But I think all mothers probably wonder if they were a good mother…just like all fathers wonder if they were a good father. But I’ll tell you…she’s a great mom...just like she's a great wife.

So on this special day that we recognize the women in our lives...to my mom…my sisters…and my wife…Happy Mothers Day.

Thanks for all the wonderful things you’ve done for me…in my life.

Love to all of you.

Dan

SMOKEHOUSE

If I asked my children today what a 'smokehouse' was...they'd probably respond that it's where a group of people who smoke are relegated to these days...since most people can't smoke at their workplace.

I would however mean...a building used for storing and curing meat.

Smokehouse...popped into my head today as I was 'google-mapping'.

Google mapping allows you to look down upon the earth from the satellites...and you are able to zoom in close on objects...seeing cars and even people...from outer space.

Today, I was looking at various places across the country...an old family cemetery I was interested in locating in Illinois...my old hometown of Owensville...and...outside of Owensville...the old farm that my sister, Joan, and her husband Elvin and their children, Diane and Kim, my niece and nephew, lived for most of my young years.

As I zoomed down on Joan's farm...I saw the old farmhouse...the silos...the machine shed...and the old garage. But missing...was a few of the other outbuildings that used to be there in my younger years...the hog houses were gone...and the big old red barn was gone. As I gazed at the picture, I recalled the old smokehouse that was at the back of the house. The smokehouse had been torn down long, long ago. I knew it was gone...but somehow it came back to mind as I stared at the old place.

The smokehouse was taken down when I was quite young. By the time Cindy & I were dating...and she began going to Joan's with me...it was already gone...so she doesn't recall it ever being there. But I do.

The smokehouse wasn't a 'functional' smokehouse when I was little...but was used more for storage. But I can still see it.

A smokehouse...isn't a modern day smoking bar. It was a usable building that had it's place years ago. But no longer. They are no longer needed, no longer used, and in my sister's case...no longer there.

But looking down on that old farmland...brought back many good memories...of a wonderful place in my young years...my sister's farm.


Dan