Amazing! Sensational! Pretty Good!

Friends, I've discovered a treasure.

In my daily surfing of the Internet [You Tube this time], I found a fascinating new entertainer. Following my usual course of in-depth study of an interesting subject, I went to the home page of Connie Talbot.

Now, I usually don't fully enjoy young singers, but Connie is an exception. She is a fine singer with natural and true tones, stage presence, and confidence in her ability. She's charmed me for sure.

Connie was a finalist in the 'Britain's Got Talent' entertainment show. And since then, she's cut a CD, gone on tour, and is preparing for her American tour. She's so good, in fact, that I'll be ignoring my own rule, and I'll buy and download her CD.

Please visit her website [Here's the link: Connie Talbot ], listen to her sample clips and watch her short videos. Her video of 'Three Little Birds' in Jamaica is fantastic. You'll be very, very pleased.

And oh, by the way, Connie Talbot is six years old.

To Sin or Not to Sin

The Catholic Church's recent publishing of a list of 'new sins' in modern society has created a bit of controversy---mostly from people who have little knowledge of the Catholic Church, what it means, and how it operates.

I'm not at all sure what's meant by a 'dynamic' Church as opposed to a 'static' Church. I rather think the definitions are proposed to allow wiggle room when someone doesn't want an action to be a sin. Certainly, some parts of the Church will change with the times. But, sins are sins no matter when you commit them or how you try to justify them. Waffling isn't going to change reality.

Perhaps the best way to understand what's a sin and what's not a sin, is to be sure you're well educated in morality and your Catholic faith. If you know how the Church was formed, how God wants us to be and act, how free will operates, what morality can be and usually is, the precepts of our faith, the concepts of religion and life from the philosophers, and the teachings of Christ and the Doctors of the Church, you'd have a better idea of how to live your life as a Catholic. Learning is a lifetime process. And you can't call yourself a real Catholic if you don't understand many of these.

But, all that isn't understood overnight. You can't learn what you need within a few years of part-time religious education no matter how smart you think you are. It takes many years because of the interweaving of knowledge and disciplines, so in the meantime the Church and your fellow Catholics can act more as kindly fathers than simple guides. So, normally, the younger you are, the less you're going to understand your faith and religion and the World in general. And you have to understand you can't cherry-pick your sins based on how you want to live or what society is currently accepting as normal. Don't kid yourself. That's not being a member of our Church.

If you're well grounded in the Catholic faith and religion, and brought up to know right or wrong in a responsible manner, you'll know what's a sin and what's not a sin. The Church will give you guidance. The Church is a necessary and wonderful institution, and it's promoting a new list of sins is a welcome and needed guidance. It is teaching us, but it's not perfect. The Pope is not promulgating these lists infallibly. When the Pope promulgates anything in faith and morals in the prescribed manner, I'll accept such pronouncements word for word and adjust my own understanding of my faith and religion. But, in the meantime, it's up to me to determine on a daily basis what is sinful and what is not in my life, based on my education and these [and other] Catholic published guidance. It's certainly a tricky trail to follow, but life is like that. Very little around us is 'easy pickins.'

There is nothing inherently wrong with capitalism and the accumulation of wealth, per se. There may be, however, sinful problems in how you use capitalism to amass that wealth. There may also be sinful problems in how you later use that wealth and the concomitant power---personal, social, political, professional. Part of the problem here is the constant lack of understanding of what capitalism is and how it works; how the psyche of mankind operates; and how it drives a person to work harder than the next person and enjoy the greater fruits of labor. And, if you don't understand Economics, you shouldn't be bashing its sub-concepts willy-nilly.

What's excess wealth? Can it be defined? Reasonable people will disagree. Personally, I think an ostentatious life is off the mark and can be considered excess. But still, wealthy people do provide the capital to keep our Country running. Poor people don't. I've got nothing against poor people---I'm one myself---but our economy and our lives need continuous capital, whether it be from the financial markets, local businesses, or Joe in the gated community. And as long as you're throwing percentages around, please remember that the upper 10% of our society [the wealthy] pay 90% of the taxes. In other words, without them, our economy and Country would collapse, and we'd all be out on our ears in the middle of the nowhere. That would bring everyone down to [and past] my current level---but is it right? Is it moral?

Furthermore, I don't accept junk science and it's creation of new human wrongs. You have to be careful about these ideologically-driven crusades. While they may sound good at first, they're usually based on flawed or non-existent science with self-serving purposes. [And their 'gurus' are rarely in the lower 90% of our income stream, either.] There are usually many of these 'movements' floating around us on a regular basis. I've always tried to be responsible in my life, and I'm not going to permit pseudo-science or self-serving ideology-driven programs to make me uncomfortable in knowing what's natural in our World and what's not.

None of us knows all the answers, but a thorough understanding of what we face in life, how we deal with it, and what we believe in---or need to believe in---as Catholics, is absolutely necessary to determine the when or how of sinful behavior. The Church guides us, but it behooves us to be able to better recognize sin when we meet it.

Random Thoughts

I don't know about you [isn't that original?], but I find the 'Travelocity' ad with the jackhammers
interfering with conversation to be very annoying. Isn't it bad enough the travelers have to open their windows to a balcony overlooking a grave yard? Or deal with that poor, downtrodden plaster gnome gumming up the works regularly?

There was a message on my tv set prior to a showing of 'Law and Order': 'The following program may contain scenes not suitable for some. Parental discretion is advised.' This occurred at 2:30 am. Methinks our children are staying up too late in the evening.

In an ad for a siding firm, you can hear the boast: 'We also power wash and fix minor repairs.' Whose repairs are they fixing? Can't they do the minor repairs right in the first place? Or are they boasting an ability to fix minor repair efforts of the homeowner-handyman?

Attention 'Jurassic Park'! A recent study has determined that 'Tyrannosaurus Rex [is] Basically a Big Chicken'. So, when you open your next park restaurant, be sure to include some breaded, 'Fried Rex' on the menus, to be served with Jungle Greens and hand-carved sesame seeds? I'm not sure what kind of stuffing should be used. Perhaps 'bread trees?'

Don't you find it curious that billions and billions of dollars are spent each year around the world simply to see and [maybe] identify hazy, white lines on a screen as itty bitty matter particles? You could fool me for a lot less.

I've heard at least two different tv commercials using a pre-recorded [from the published song] singing of 'I believe in miracles.' I've listened and listened, but I still can only hear 'I believe in mail call.' It took me many hearings to figure out the real words, and I needed hints. I suppose if I knew the song, I'd have had no problem. But that would have been the easy way out.

The older and wiser I get [with much time out for inate stupidity], the more I can pick out the holes in many scripts for tv and movie productions. For instance, why do the actors have to look dumb and stupid instead of actually telling a person about the death of a close companion or friend? Is that really the time to subject an innocent spouse/friend to your guessing games? Sometimes the preliminaries to the actual telling can drive you up a wall. For drama I suppose?

Why are so many scripts filled with stupid actions. [I know they're there to move the plot along. But if you want the big bucks, do it more intelligently.] I've seen many movies that would simply have no plot if the main character had simply acted like a normal human being in the beginning of the story. Sure, find a body and grab the knife, thus leaving your fingerprints. You're innocent, but you make elaborate efforts to lie and throw the a wrench into the works, thus making yourself the prime suspect. Lie about a near relative because you are 'shielding' him/her. Good drama perhaps, but you can never fool a tv detective very long.

I'm curious. How can Mary Alice in 'Ace of Cakes' be 'feeling a little emasculated now?' I think she's a very pretty and charming woman. She has nothing to ever feel 'emasculated' about.

Speaking of 'Ace of Cakes:' I used to make specialty cakes for my children on their birthdays---their choice of what they should look like. I'm not a professional, but I though they were pretty good for an average Dad. Picture included above. But, I was nowhere near the efforts of 'Charm City Cakes.' They do awesome work. I found it hard to believe that the 'Hogwarts' estate was edible. I guess their cakes are worth every dollar you pay for them---and then some. [I could only afford maybe one of their cupcakes, but it's great to watch them at work.]

I'm watching the 'Food Channel' now. Did you ever notice that today's chefs reinvent the wheel on a regular basis? And not always correctly. They give out tips that I learned fifty years ago. And often, I know a better way to do something than they do.

Is it any wonder there are so many overweight chefs? Their recipes are heavy on the butter, animal fats, sugar, and sodium. Their fine looking efforts would kill many of their viewers who are diabetic, overweight, or suffering from many other health problems. Taste good? You bet! They're great! But they're killing most of us.

Remember the movie 'Support Your Local Sheriff?' If you do, you'll remember the kitchen scene where Joan Hackett [Prudy Perkins] is trying to make dinner in a fancy dress with long sleeves and lace cuffs? The dress is inappropriate and leads the scene into a very funny result, including the usual flying flour and smoked skirt.

Check out some female tv chefs, especially Rachael Ray. With her long sleeves covering half her fist, she just doesn't seem to get it. Most of their viewers are housewives and men who can be easily imagined to be wearing shorts [ala Mario Batali], bathing suits, dressing gowns, overalls, uniforms etc. Despite the 40 years, Rachael is still very pretty and alluring---if she'd keep the energy level down a bit.

I've been bombarded with the advertisement about a cell phone you can get very cheaply, and you only have to buy about $20 of time every three months. Wow! It doesn't sound like much of an expense, does it? In truth, it works out to about 30 cents per minute. So, even wrong numbers and calls from the ex can sting the senses and the pocket.

There's a 'language instruction video' being hawked on tv. There have been others. Whatever merit they might have---I just don't know. I keep hearing the praises of the video, but none of the 'happy' users ever utters a word in the foreign language. I wonder if they can speak what they say after all?

What! No more? Of course there is, but not for today. This is simply another in a series of articles on 'Better Living' for the American media viewer and taxpayer.

Living in a Technical World - My New Computer

Finally, my new PC has arrived. At last, it was here and the Damn Thing could be retired---but, it wasn't about to go quietly. More on that in a moment.

On arrival---six quick days after I ordered it---I looked at the plain cardboard shipping boxes with delight. No more was I a captive of the Damn Thing. My legs tingled almost as if I was meeting B Hussein---no, it was only sciatica. The packing was neat and professional. It looked like the shipped PC and monitor could survive a tornado.

Since this was, oh about my seventh computer, I had no problem setting it up. These things come pretty much assembled these days. But, as usual, most of my time was spent trying to control the various cables so they wouldn't be a dangerous mess, rather like trying to control a Congress. I kept my old printer since I don't use it much. I downloaded a new driver and voila! It worked perfectly.

Connecting to the Internet was simple. I just connected my Comcast modem to the back of the machine and deux voila! It worked perfectly.

Next was the data transfer. Even thought both PCs have floppy drives, I didn't want to spend the rest of my life transferring data. That's why I bought Laplink's PC Mover Essentials. I wasted my money though. As noted above, the Damn Thing wasn't going easily. No matter how I tried, I couldn't get the transfer cable software working on the Damn Thing. So, being a realist, I gave up. Instead of the cable, I started using the CD drive on both machines.

I discovered my CDs were mostly R [no, not R rated; R as in one use only], and I couldn't very well do the transfer with them. Though strangely very difficult to find in most stores, I did have a couple of R/W CDs to use. I had to break up a few folders on the Damn Thing into smaller pieces, even though they were zipped.

I didn't transfer the programs if I could download new ones. For those I bought, I transferred the ownership keys, and for the most part that philosophy worked. I had trouble with a few programs but I finally got them running.

I had to swear some as usual. The Damn Thing was recalcitrant as ever. 'No CD recognized in the Drive.' What!!! There's nothing wrong with the CD. I just succesfully used it in this very drive. After some strong language and threats, a few restarts, and lots of patience [nothing new with the Damn Thing], I got it to recognize its own drive. This happened a few times during the long transfer process, but I did get it finished.

I next began working on the new PC [Vista] getting things in order. Vista is certainly different from XP, but I got the hang of it before too long. And I rather like it. In some ways it's far better than XP. In other ways it isn't. It's really a matter of becoming accustomed to it.

For example, the Control Panel is quite different in appearance, and some things are a little hard to find, as the categories aren't particularly clear. But, you can change the view to the listing or icons you had in XP. I don't see the Vista version so much as being better than as being different. Vista's Windows Explorer operates differently. Again, I don't see it so much as better than as being different. But then, some aspects of the operation of Windows is easier to use, especially in folder management. While 'moving' is sometimes a pain, 'copying' is easier.

My thumb drive operates flawlessly. But Vista won't let me move items from the E drive to the C drive or vice versa. It only allows copying. Thus I have to copy and delete when I am using it. But those tiny little buggers are great. Who needs an encryption program when you move your sensitive data to a key-sized flash drive?

My thumb drives are 4GB. I have two of them. Although Vista has a regular backup program, it only backs up to a reserved portion of the main drive [ten gigs in size.] With my thumbs [called that because they are smaller than my thumbs?] I have eight gigs in total. But these are easier to manipulate. The reserved portion of the drive uses data screens that are about fives in clarity and operation.

As for the PC, I think the drive bays are rather cheesy looking and operating. The CD drawer doesn't slide out free of the bay door. Rather like a plane with a 200' wingspan trying to leave a hangar through 150' doors. [I know. How did it get in there in the first place?] You know, the Liberal way of doing things. And the doors seem to be a chintzy, inexpensive plastic. The company logo is well constructed, though.

After everything was settled, I began to have problems. Several of my programs refused to work at all, and the Internet connection kept going off---impervious to repair attempts. After hours of cursing and swearing and playing around, I had to revert to a previous time. And trois voila! Everything was working again. I contacted the manufacturer through its website.

Service was excellent. The technicians called me [from India, but at least they called me.] We went around circles. I gave the techs operating control of my PC. I couldn't keep up with what they were doing, but they seemed to have a handle on things. I suffered from non-working DHCP and Event Service notification among other things. They got them running each time I spoke with them: Four times over three days.

They finally reloaded Windows, and decided that the modem was the problem. I was to call the cable supplier if it happened again. Sure enough, it happened again. I called Comcast and was connected to a delightful-sounding lass in Texas. It was Monday, Memorial Day. As a veteran, I should have been spending the day drinking beer and watching war movies---isn't that what many people think of us?

She couldn't find anything wrong, and she gave me the number for Microsoft as the next step. I couldn't really see an end to this thing. I didn't want a replacement computer because I had so much data. So, what to do?

I went to the Microsoft site---which is always difficult as all get-out to navigate. Anyway, after a while I found that I should be downloading Service Pack One. So, I downloaded it. I haven't had a problem since then.

So, why didn't all the techs consider that as a solution? It would have been really simple and showed that they knew what they were doing. Ah well!

Now that my new computer is up and running well, my interests are directed elsewhere. I'm working on my e-book collection, listening to music, and beginning to return to my numerous blogs. I need a PC just to keep track of them. Cleaning house, straightening house. Removing cardboard boxes and packing material. All that can wait while I play with my new toy.

My new computer is up and running. The Damn Thing is officially retired. May the force be with us!

Willie and the Cowboys

Something I like.

Changing of the Guard

Friends:

My favorite [only] computer [Damn Thing] is now in its final death throws. While it's been terribly sick these last few months, this past week has been a trying experience, with increases in: freezes, jumping cursor, constant system restarts, last second text highlights, garbled words, and lost work files.

I recently ordered my new Dell, and within a few weeks I hope to be up and running again better than ever---depending, of course, on how well I can handle the transition. I'll be using a 22" monitor, so even though I don't have a camera, I'll be able to see everyone. Just wave. My old computer has been the main reason for my spotty blog entries an correspondence, and I hope by the end of the month to be on a better schedule.

'The Damn Thing is dead!' Long live the new Damn Thing!'

My Computer and I - An Endangered Alliance

My computer and I don't get along very well. I always thought I was in charge and told it what to do. In actuality, I tell it what to do, and it does whatever it wants---much like one of our teenagers. I've always treated it well. You know: cards, monitors, keyboards, mice. A wide array of utilities. Firewall. Other Security. It has no reason for complaint.

I should have stayed with this.

Okay, so I talk to my computer. I plead with it. Sometimes I yell at it. Big Deal! Lots of people do that---and I have good reasons just like anyone else. I can't have the computer arrested and hauled off to jail, you know. On several occasions I've threatened to bounce its innermost electronic circuitry off a brick wall---but I need it, and I'm stuck with it for the moment. At least until my new computer shows up. [Shhh! Don't let my old computer know about that, it might fall completely apart, and I can't afford a computer analyst.]

My computer needs a new name. My brother originally called it 'knucklehead' when he set it up. I'm sure he thought that was funny, but apparently my tower of electronic gibberish is living up to its current name. So any change of name must be as properly descriptive. [I tried to use the words onomatopoeia and onomatopoeic here to impress all you readers, but they don't quite fit the bill.]

Anyway, based on what I've been calling it lately [at various decibel levels,] I've a lot of names to choose from: 'C'monnnnn!!!'; 'C'mon dammit!! ' 'Stop this!!!' 'Damn You!' 'Not Again!!' 'Arggghhh!!!'---though I don't have a drop of pirate blood in my veins, so help me. But, I'm sort of partial to 'Damn Thing!' at the moment---'Dammette!' for short.

And this.

My computer constantly freezes during my work, no matter the program. [Doesn't global warming affect computers?] My cursor [great name!] disappears and appears with a rationale all its own. The program I use most is driving me up a wall. I type in words and I see authentic, electronic gibberish on the screen. The cursor jumps around all over the place, moving words by itself. I have to be careful deleting a letter or a word, because just as I hit the 'delete' key it often highlights whole paragraphs, and I delete everything. I'm often reduced to the two-finger typing style. [The publisher says it can't duplicate the problem, so it must be me. Yeah, right!] Because of all this, I have to make a liberal use of the 'restart' option.

I've been told some of my programs are 'incompatible' with the operating system. What!!! I use Microsoft XP with all the updates. What do you mean 'incompatible?' Perhaps Bill Gates owes me a new computer? [He's not responsible, but he does have more money than the software developer of my db program.]

With all my programs, 'the Damn Thing' makes its presence known by freezing and flashing all over the place. [Electronic version of the Wave?] The manufacturer says the problem can be fixed if I take all my files off the hard disk and we set it up again. And I get to put all my data where? And how? Big deal!

And this.

Now, I readily admit that I do suffer from a bit of fumble fingers, and I'm told that comes from trying to type info as fast as I did when I was younger, and I no longer can do it---though I've determined separately that much of that problem comes from the side effects of a pain medication I'm on. Besides, when you have software and hardware working together to destroy your psyche, your concentration does wander a bit. N'est Pas?

My frustration is also increased---necessarily, I sadly admit---from the numerous alarms I have set on my various computer timepieces for medication, a movie, meeting, or other special need. I tend to get absorbed in my writing, research, and the damning of my computer, thus forgetting everything else. I also have this tiny program which freezes the computer for thirty seconds every three hours [as I've set it] while a picture of an animated and stern, but kindly, woman with an apron and a rolling pin makes rude noises and tells me to take a break. I don't question her. I take the break.

So my writing is now being done with Open Office Writer. [It's the only word processor that doesn't have all the problems. I guess that comes from its being free.] Open Office Suite is a worthy answer [and it's free] to Microsoft Works Plus. I'll copy this essay into my regular program later.

The 'Damn Thing' in recent days.

And when the changing-of-the-guard occurs, you're all invited to 'the Damn Thing's' 'mother board execution,' [by lethal rejection, of course] at dawn on the second Tuesday after the third Friday of the second blue moon month of Summer. I know the word 'mother' is involved here, but despite that, it's a necessary event. Here it comes: It's a dirty job but someone has to do it! Yo! I'm qualified!

This is now the morning after, and some of my programs are working quickly as God intended. Perhaps threatening the old tower of gibberish---excuse me, the 'Damn Thing'---helps control it's anti-human feelings. And I'm certainly feeling more human today. I did some cleaning, cooking, treadmill, and took a shower. You really wanted to know that, didn't you?

From 'The Horseless Carriage' Magazine, November 6, 1901:

Doctors Turned Automobilists

Letter One

'After having used horses in my medical practice for ten years, I became interested in the automobile as doing away with the great expense of keeping teams, the bother and disagreeable features of drivers, etc. I subscribed for the three leading automobile journals, sent for a catalogue of every vehicle I saw advertised, attended every automobile show I could get to, and finally pinned my faith to steam as the best power for my business.

'The first of April finally saw me in possession of a steam carriage of the latest construction. Ready for anything, and on the point of selling my teams---so sure was I that the automobile was the proper means of locomotion for a doctor. My experience with steam had all been on paper, my knowledge of it being derived entirely from catalogues and journals. So after fixing up after a fashion I started out and ran quite a distance very successfully.

'Then wishing to appear before my family as a full-blown chauffeur, I started for my residence, just in front of which I began to smell gasoline for five minutes. Without stopping to think, I pulled out a match and attempted to relight the fire. Piff! Bang! And the whole thing was ablaze. I retained presence of mind enough to turn off the main gasoline supply and to throw out the cushions and throw mud and dirty water from the street at it until I had subdued the flames, but my $800 auto looked like a bad case of delirium tremens: the paint was scorched and soiled and my reputation as an expert shattered the first day among all the neighbors, who, as usual, witnessed the accident.

'This first experience rather put a damper on my enthusiasm, at least for two or three days, but when the machine had been washed up it looked somewhat better, and after much persuasion I induced my wife to accompany me on a short spin. After we had ridden out about a mile I suddenly missed the water. The fusible plug blew out and my boiler burned. Now I was simply going to shine! I explained how this could easily be overcome, for (according to the catalogue) all that is necessary is to insert a key where the fusible plug was, pump up the water by hand, and go rejoicing on your way. Spreading a robe on the ground I proceeded to put my printed instructions into practice; but, alas! I found the key would not fit in the opening, as the babbitt metal stuck to the sides and the tubes were leaking badly. So with fingers burned and clothes soiled and disordered I was again towed home in disgrace, and here I learned my first two lessons in automobiling: First, don't believe over one-half you read in the printed catalogue; second, never wear a silk hat, frock coat and white linen on an auto trip; they don't look well after an accident.'

***
Letter Two

'Many object to the steam type of machine on the ground that there are so many important matters to keep in mind. I personally think this is one of the advantages, for it gives one a great deal of personal satisfaction to master a beautiful piece of mechanism and keeps his faculties alert while utilizing the same.

'We do not go fishing for pleasure with a net, and spirited horses are still in demand. As I have never had two machines at one time I cannot really decide on my preference for use. I intend to have both styles next year and shall be curious to find out which one I really get the most use out of. I am sure the beginner will usually have more luck with the steam machine, for its main points can be appreciated in fifteen minutes' time. I have seen an expert work on a gasoline machine all day, and then after it got to running be unable to tell which of his various adjustments had accomplished the end in view.

'There is no question that the gasoline machine is far ahead as to economy of fuel, though the repairs of batteries and cost of oil used are somewhat amazing. The usual repair shop would hardly care to tackle the mechanism of a gasoline engine, and if the carriage is purchased from a manufacturer some hundreds of miles away the element of time and expense involved is rather appalling. Another trouble with the heavy gasoline machines is the very weight which enables them to obtain the high speeds and be properly steered. Many of them cannot be pulled by a single horse and offer a severe strain to the ordinary harness. If one gets down into a ditch it is practically impossible to do anything without the assistance of quite a gang of men.'

I Still Can't Buy it Sliced!

I was 'speaking' to Intef the other day [an ancient figment on my imagination], and he agreed to assist me in recording my thoughts about Ancient Egyptian grains and breads. His duties in the Pharaoh's palace as 'Major Domo' are heavy, but since I'm a modern figment of his imagination, he felt okay in working with me.

In case you're wondering, the Ancient Egyptians were not Arabs. The Arabic people did not invade and conquer until many centuries into the AD period. So, I'll be speaking of the 'old folks' in Egypt---though their language was somewhat Semitic.

One reason Ancient Egypt was able to become a great agricultural country was the lure of the Annual Nile Flood. Why roam as a nomad when the river created a rich, stable farmland for you on a regular basis? So the ancients settled down; the growing lands were fertile, crops grew well, and animal domestication progressed. It seems logical then, to believe that this reality led to the production of more than enough food for the populace, thus allowing civilization to spread out and develop human specialties: farming; religion; politics and leadership; crafts; services; etc. We must also remember that 3,000 to 5,000 years ago, the Egyptian countryside was not as arid as it is today. The lusher land then was populated even by lions, elephants, and hippopotami. And, at its maximum, the population of a larger Egypt was no more than 5 million, compared to today's smaller Egypt with about 50 million souls.

The earliest domesticated crop was probably barley, with emmer wheat developing a bit later. The grains were first used by themselves: chewed, soaked, dried; mixed with various ingredients to make cakes of sorts; and finally, grilled or baked. Barley and wheat grains could be used as porridge or mixed with other foods to make stews or gruel. Cracked wheat 'groats' were often served.

Pounding the grain and separating the chaff created a rough flour that was easier to work with than the raw or dried grain itself, thus providing tastier ways of basic food preparation. But, barley flour's chemical make-up was unsuitable for leavening, and its breads were probably dense, flat, rough, and course.

Early Egyptian wheat was toasted to make it easier to separate from the chaff [thus leaving us numerous charred grains to examine.] A later developed strain permitted easier threshing without the heating process, and production of a wheat flour capable of being 'raised' by wild yeast microbes began. Improved winnowing, pounding or grinding, and sieving procedures created an easier-to-handle flour, something akin to our 'whole wheat.'

But the pounding, grinding, and sifting procedures never improved sufficiently for the Ancient Egyptians to create a pure, finely ground flour. There were always foreign particles and grit in the end product. Chewing and eating such breads, especially of the courser barley, wore down their teeth to a great degree. A good modern dentist would have been able to earn millions---perhaps deification?

You can almost hear a representative worker or craftsman sitting down to an evening meal with his family and biting into the latest loaf of bread with disgust. 'Great Khufu's Ghost! They can build a 965 cubit Pyramid, but they can't bake a decent loaf of bread without a lot of grit in it!' Some things never change.

Raised wheat bread was probably discovered by accident. Dough left to sit before baking could have become the resting place for wild years microbes. The bread rose slightly and, when baked, created a lighter and better tasting product. Fortuitous accidents like that always seem to move people to re-create them for their own benefit. Once the process of raised bread was a little better understood, the perfection of a raising agent came next. Beer froth, wine froth, and by the 18th Dynasty pure yeasts were used with the dough. Perhaps baking soda [bicarbonate of soda] was prepared from the easily obtained natron salts [hydrous sodium carbonate and sodium bicarbonate.]

Once a wild yeast was in the dough, however, it could replicate itself in other dough batches through the use of a 'left-over' starter. Keeping a piece of yesterday's dough for incorporation into today's, created a dough which would rise and become lighter and better tasting bread on a regular basis. In effect, some Ancient Egyptian bread was similar to our modern 'sourdough bread.'

Barley was cheaper than wheat, and as a matter of economics it would have been a staple for the poorer Ancient Egyptians, and certainly used for feast representations of deities and animals. The tastier and more expensive wheat products would appear in the wealthy households regularly.

Coarsely ground barley was mixed and used to make a semi-baked barley bread starter for brewing beer. The light baking did not destroy the enzymes needed for fermentation. The discoverers of beer, although never positively identified, have probably been blessed for thousands of years---though this beer was always rather cloudy and a bid doughy.

Intef told me many tales about the wine and beer parties at the palace. Why, he remembers one occasion---but that story's for another time.

The wheat bread was baked in many shapes and qualities: flat bread; triangular bread; raised loaves; molded conical loaves; enriched loaves; sweetened loaves; etc. Some breads were imported from Syria. Breads were enriched or sweetened with milk, eggs, spices [thyme, cumin, coriander, anise, etc.]---perhaps even filled with meats.

Some breads were flattened or rolled into spirals and deep fried; some were decorated, marked, or slashed; and some were baked into special shapes for religious or celebratary reasons. Some were baked in an oven, some along the inner sides, and some in pre-heated pots.

If baked in a covered pot, they would be moister from the retained steam. Fresh dough placed on a near-finished stew and cooked covered seems plausible, so my imagination sees it in the Ancient Egyptian kitchen [which was away from the house in most cases.] The Ancients would probably have felt comfortable creating and baking bread with anyone's Grandma.

In many cases, the Ancient Egyptians kneaded the bread dough with their feet. [Products might then be thought to be Cheese-Bread?] I don't know why, and neither did the ancient Greek, Herodotus, who said: 'dough they knead with their feet, but clay with their hands.' Perhaps Grandma wouldn't be so amenable to their kitchen assistance, after all.

Intef, our mystical advisor, says that today's cooks don't have to be perfectionists when it comes to making modern versions of the Ancient Egyptian breads. You can easily purchase bread if you're not an accomplished baker. Even Intef used a specialist for the palace. There are many fresh doughs and breads on the market with simple ingredients: water, flour, salt, yeast. [Sand and ground stone are optional]

Pizza dough, Italian Bread, French Bread, Portuguese Bread, and Pita Bread are good examples. I've seen available in the local markets a bread called Mountain Bread, or Syrian Bread---thin, flat breads sold in a package that is rectangular, but the two thin loaves are folded over to make a circle into a rectangle. An excellent Chinese style 'bread' made with flour, salt, and scallions [oil cake or scallion cake] is available, as are olive or raisin breads. Other rustic breads from the various cultures in the World probably have the same ingredients as these simple examples. Buy them all unsliced and slice them on the go or tear them apart in an Ancient Egyptian mystical frenzy.

'Bread is the staff of life.' Indeed, it's among the first food products to be prepared in a beginning civilization. So make sure you have your seed and recipes when you get stranded on that dreamy, desert island. Or else, make sure your companion is a baker. You'll need a proper companion to start a new civilization anyway.

Excerpt from 'Dominoes to Davy Crockett'

...After our move, we were closer to the center of town and different relatives. My grandmother also moved, this time to the home of Uncle Bill and Aunt Rose. On many Sundays, we'd go over to Oak Street to visit them. Nana would watch the Yankees or play dominos with us---but never at the same time. The other four adults would play Samba, Bolivia, or a similar canasta-based card game. Nana went to bed around 7 pm (she arose around 5 am,) so she didn't watch night games, and we kids had plenty of time to play games by ourselves in the kitchen.

Partners were family oriented, with my Mom and Uncle Bill (her brother) against my Dad and Aunt Rose (his sister.) While they played, we were treated to the aroma of the simmering tomato sauce, meatballs, and sausages prepared by Aunt Rose. In the living room, Billy was usually reading a sample from his vast supply of comic books, or else running around the neighborhood somewhere. When we were there at other times, I'd sit quietly reading his comic books.

I never bought any comic books myself, so Billy's stash was a good reading supply. And he had a lot of them. All kinds. Mickey Mouse with Minnie, Mortimer, Goofy, Horace, and Clarabell. Donald Duck and his nephews, Huey, Dewey, and Louie. Little Lulu with Tubby, Annie, and Izzie. Archie and his classmates Jughead, Veronica, Betty and Reggie. Superheroes called Superman, Superboy, Wonder Woman, Supergirl, Green Arrow, Batman and Robin, or Aquaman. Casper the Friendly Ghost and his brother ghosts. Bugs Bunny and Elmer Fudd. Daffy Duck. Henry the Chicken Hawk with Foghorn Leghorn. Scrooge McDuck and the Beasley Boys. Korean War comics---virtually everything published except the gory horror and romance types. I think Uncle Bill actually bought them for Billy. And the pile in the living room corner was about three feet tall!

In the kitchen, Mary Anne, my cousin Ginger (Virginia,) and me were usually playing a game: Sorry, Parchisi, Checkers, Dominos, Chinese checkers, Monopoly---or a card game of Canasta, rummy, Authors or Old Maid. Canasta was similar but simpler than the one our parents were playing. Ours was also friendlier. We laughed a lot. Uncle Bill, on the other hand, had a tendency to yell at Aunt Rose even though she wasn't his partner. We got used to it. But the food was always great and plentiful. These Sunday activities were usually lengthy. Our parents enjoyed playing until late at night---or at least late to us. I doubt their games went past 10 pm. They only drank---and that rarely---homemade anisette and rosette. Otherwise coffee, tea, soda, and iced tea were the drinks du jeur.

If Ginger and Mary Anne weren't around or didn't want to play games, I went out to the back porch. Uncle Bill and Aunt Rose had an old Victrola out there. The top opened for playing records with an older style needle and holder, and the cabinet had some records. I had to feed energy into it from a crank on the side, and I played and listened to the records---incorrectly apparently. The player had a steel stylus, which should be replaced after each record is played. I didn't know that, and I have my doubts that Uncle Bill or Aunt Rose did either. But cranking it up, putting a record on, and setting the heavy tone arm, sound box, and stylus on the record was an intriguing thing to my young mind. My aunt and uncle never had a problem with my playing the Victrola, and I don't know what happened to it. They probably sold it when they moved to Cottage Street a few years later.

Every year or so, the four of them would get together, alternating homes, and make a batch of the liqueurs anisette and rosette. Neutral grain spirits were hard to find but always there (or there wouldn't have been a preparation to prepare,) and the sugar and flavorings were easily obtained. I remember the use of the sink and jugs and hot water and the spirits, liquid and solid flavorings, and then they had to age for a while---about ten seconds before someone had a taste. After a few months, they were ready for imbibing in small amounts for celebratory purposes only. I mean they took all night to make, and they didn't make gallons of the stuff. Supplies were limited. I think all four of them expected the Middletown police to break in at any time and arrest them. It probably added to the preparation's mystique. But, it's my understanding that their efforts were perfectly legal. The few times I managed a taste was a sweet experience, because that's what they were: sweet liqueurs.

Aunt Rose was a fine cook. As a treat, she'd fry dough for us---pizza fritte. I liked it best plain with a little salt. Dunking it into the simmering sauce never occurred to me. The spaghetti or macaroni, meatballs, and sausages, were just the icing on the cake, as it were. I'm very surprised I remained so thin as a young kid and teen, since the aroma was a treat in itself.

Uncle Bill did have an annoying habit. When seated at the table, he'd rock his right leg continuously. It gained in momentum while he sat there, and sometimes he was able to shake the whole room and everyone in it. I kept waiting for the take-off. He did that until Aunt Rose finally yelled at him. No one else dared, except for Nana, his Mom. Then we'd have a welcomed pause until he started again. I think he did it unconsciously or maybe to get Aunt Rose riled. Who knows?

Nana made a lot of cakes, but her specialty was pineapple cake [my favorite anyway.] She made a white or yellow layer cake from scratch and there was a pineapple filling between the layers and on the top. Nana's recipes---of which there were plenty---were rather un-specific: a pinch of this, a pinch of that, a handful of this, etc. That pineapple filling was made from a can of crushed pineapple, coconut, and flour [to soak up and thicken the pineapple juice.)] For those of you who want to try making that concoction, it has to be heated long enough to cook the flour. Otherwise, you'd have a strange tasting mess. Nana's cakes were great stuff, especially the pineapple and the pineapple upside down cake. That cake always looked great with the pineapple rings and cherries on the top---err bottom. Her other recipes, as prepared by Mom, were taste sensations as well, especially turkey stuffing made with eggs, sage and unsliced bread; fruitcake [a holiday treat because it was dark and tasty---also soaked with rum for a month]; bread pudding with a sweet sauce, macaroni and cheese, and various soups and stews.

During those years we tinkered with arts and crafts. Naturally, we finger painted, colored with crayons, and built things from Popsicle sticks [we had to save them ourselves as bags of them weren't available to us.] We also used a little plastic, hollow tube with four points we called a “Knitty Knobby,” although it was officially known as a “Knitting Knobby.” We'd use that little doo-dad to knit narrow tubes, usually with no known purpose, although some people circled the tube and sewed it together to form a potholder or something. We just made the tube, and continued on, usually because we didn't know how to end the damn thing. We'd also be unable to start them without help.

It took more knitting knowledge than we had. Aunt Rose would always help us. She ran a local dressmaking factory and knew all about sewing. Mom was no slouch either. She made many of our clothes and costumes, and she altered even more to fit the person or occasion---read “hand-me-downs.”

When we couldn't find the plastic forms, we could use a large, wooden thread spool and a couple of brads tapped into one end. We could always find knitting needles or use the plastic ones included with the sets. We certainly bought and lost enough of them. Our family circle was thus filled with these long, knitted snakes. They became temporary necklaces, bracelets, wristlets, and anything else you can fashion from a long tube of knit thread.

Another of our crafts was the weaving of potholders from cloth loops. We bought the latter in bags. They were pretty much all the same (though some were more elastic than others,) and with the little square loom we made little woven cloth squares. I suppose if you connected them, they could make something bigger, but we never knew how to do that. Consequently, we made potholders---lots of potholders. We kids were a cottage business. The Turi and Stevens Families were awash in well-made and poorly made, cloth-loop, potholders.

We only knew how to use a small crochet needle to finish the edges and give the potholders a final cloth loop hook. We weren't able to put them together to make larger items. Since the loops came in various colors, we could also make a myriad of designs...

Random Thoughts

Many years ago, before the four-wheeled behemoths, chrome, tail fins, Edsels, sameness, SUVs, tiny, tinny deathtraps, and hybrids took over the automobile industry, there were grand cars with doors opening in a better way than they do now. I'm referring to the front opening doors in the rear. You know, so they can both latch in the middle of the car. You can see them in action in the older movies. To me, they're much easier to get into and out of. Perhaps the modern day dresses, being shorter and less flowing, make the difference? Perhaps the designers just wanted things uniform? Aerodynamics? 'Must make a change from year to year---any change.' Who knows? But it would be nice to see them again.

I like puns, especially good ones. But, I always worry about people who cringe, groan, and roll their eyes when hearing a pun, no matter whether its good or bad. But they're hypocrites, I say! They may groan, but they really like them. Any chance they get, they'll form their own and bring attention to them by saying: 'No pun intended.' 'No pun intended' my foot. They intend them. And who's the biggest user of puns? No contest. Headline writers for newspapers and online efforts use them all the time, sometimes to draw attention, sometimes because the writer falls in love with his own words. Long live good puns! They're a sign of intelligence---a rare comodity in the average news writer. Please, provide toleration-only for bad puns. But, for the most part, puns take a conscious effort from the speaker or writer, and that's always to be praised.

Imagination in the movies or on TV---from the viewer, that is---is generally no longer permitted to exist. You want death, gore, guts, and blood? Well, they're no longer going to be referred to, they're going to be shown in all their glory. Fade out for a love scene? Not any more. We're seeing all the hot and heavy details. If I want porn, I can go to the proper movie. If I want a story and good acting, I once found it in the movie theaters. Too bad that isn't quite the case anymore. Would old-time radio shows have any adherents today? Would anyone understand them or be able to visualize the storyline? Orson Welles' Mercury Theater version of 'War of the Worlds' would never scare anyone today. A quick check on the Internet would blow the whole thing---unless you check out Area 51.

Now that I think of it, who are 'they?' That's what I've heard all my life. the ubiquitous and undeterminable 'they.' 'They' do this. 'They' do that. [singular or plural] If 'they' can reach the moon, why can't... 'It was the sixties, and they all did it.' And no one owns up to being 'they', whether the contextual precept is right or wrong; so I guess whoever 'they' are, they'll remain in their linguistic limbo for some time yet. 'Chickens! Come forth and identify!'

I'm being turned off by televised sporting events. With all the flashbacks, in-game interviews, instant replays, and annoying graphics, there's little enough time left for the actual game or race. When I tune in, I have no idea what's going on. A guy hits a homer, and I see the thing replayed a dozen times, not to mention the flashbacks to a previous inning, earlier in the year, or previous years--but, then I did mention them, didn't I? How many times can a guy score the same touchdown without confusing the audience? As for the playoffs and all star games? Forget it. I've seen three-ring circuses with less pomposity, garishness, and self congratulation from the advertisers, commentators, and players. And don't get me started on the 'pre-game shows.' Bombastic, condescending, and sometimes arrogant are the usual know-it-all participants. Who can speak [yell] the loudest? Voice-over reaches a whole new level.

Older movies [as I get older, I watch older movies; you know, the 'one time' modern ones] and much current TV often include death and death scenes. But, does anyone talk about them? Noooo! 'Is Mr X dead?' asks the girl breathlessly, through tears of sadness. The doctor either stares at her, starts reciting a lengthy preamble, or gives a gentle nod---the latter being of the type of action that could mean almost anything: Don't ask me; I don't know; I'll call you later; No, he's not dead, he's leading an aerobics class; No, he's gone to better things: taming the 'Ghost Riders in the Sky'; Who are you?; Are you busy tomorrow night? Or what am I doing here? Fade out. Anything but a straight answer: 'He's dead. I'm sorry.'

Why can't TV chefs understand the old kitchen tricks? Do they really think no one could cook before they showed up? Why must they act as if they're the only ones who know how to perform in a kitchen? Case in point: putting oil atop the water being boiled for pasta cooking. History knows that oil calms an angry sea or boiling water. [Sure, it fouls the sea and kills vegetation, but it does prevent the sea from roiling over.] Hey guys! It's not added for flavor, but to keep the cooking pasta and water from boiling all over the stove. Do these 'experts' actually think the average home cook always uses the proper sized pot of water in a professional cooking-staged area, thus preventing a boil-over? I doubt it. So, take heart readers, the TV chefs don't always know what they're talking about when they attack old kitchen secrets, such as our adding of oil for cooking pasta. The starch in the pasta can cause a boil-over if the pot isn't big enough or the amount of water is too small---a normal occurrence in many households.

I wish sporting event promoters would engage talented amateurs to sing the National Anthem before the games or races. The tune demands and expects effort of the highest quality. The so-called professionals and 'stars' generally mangle it, have lousy voices without the electronics, turn it into their own poorly-voiced style, or don't even know the song. 'What National Anthem?' The occasional amateurs usually do a great job. I know it's a difficult song, but the amateurs put effort into the singing of it, while the professionals usually throw it off as a 'photo op' or publicity action.

The word is H-a-lloween, with an 'a', and not H-o-lloween with an 'o'. I was listening to a major TV station newscast about that time, and everyone involved---including the interviewees---pronounced it incorrectly. But, then, that's been the case for years, and all my comments have fallen on hollow ears. And the correct name is Sleepy Hollow, and the headless horseman still tosses a pumpkin on H-a-lloween. Remember, it's 'All Hallow's Eve' and not 'All Hollow's Eve.' Departed souls are not usually 'hollow.'

Words 'they' or 'their' or 'them' are constantly misused as pronouns for a singular noun. My son is not a 'they', but a he, him or in the possessive, his. Your daughter is not a 'they', but a she or her, or hers. Your child is not a 'they' but a him or her. Ability to properly speak with agreeing nouns and verbs is a reasonable expectation from the media, as it is from the average American. It's amazing what vocal errors come out of mouths with the annoying, pure white teeth on the screen. 'Look! See me in the dark!' It really doesn't take too much extra effort to speak correctly---when you know how to do it. [Advertising executives take note.] Sentences can easily be reformed to make the needed point. [Don't leave school early!]

Thus are my random thoughts for today. When my brain gets older and more wrinkly, I'll voice some more.

Junior Frolics and Associates - a Day in the Wasteland Part 8 of 8 Le Finis

Do you ever wonder how the TV moguls handled the television day back in the fifties? Probably not. But, I'm going to tell you anyway. This was a time of broadcast TV only---and often a limited amount of that, since the stations went off the air at late night with the ever-present test pattern to drone in our sleepy ears. As most were, our TV set was a black and white contraption, FADA by name, gold mine by nature to the repairman. I can only remember that one TV throughout my childhood. While color TV was ostensibly available, like the space shuttle it was beyond the means of most viewers. Besides, the number of color presentations was miniscule.

Since the date I've chosen from the TV Guide is Wednesday, December 28th, 1955, I'd have been home on Christmas vacation from grammar school. It had been a snowless Christmas, according to my old photos. So, it may have been cold, but the ground was bare. Anyway, what fun would snow have been then? School couldn't have been called off because we were all on vacation. Kid's logic. Save the snowstorms for school days.

I don't remember what I received for Christmas that year, but I'd have been watching television even if I was doing something else at the same time. I've always liked the combination. At 10 am, I would watch 'Garry Moore'. It was opposite 'Ding Dong School', but I was ten and no longer needed Miss Frances. 'Arthur Godfrey' against 'Ernie Kovacs' at 10:30 was no contest. Ernie was among my favorites, especially with his 'Nairobi Trio' skits. At 11 am, I'd have to turn the thing off because I wasn't interested in 'Home and Women's News,' 'Janet Dean', or the 'Romper Room'---though beginning at 11:15 I could watch 'Life With Elizabeth', 'Beulah', and 'Mr and Mrs North.' These latter three were 15 minute shows [about the length of one of today's commercials], bringing us to noon.

My favorite at-home lunch was Campbell's Tomato Soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. Salty fare for sure, but very tasty. Nothing on television could keep me away from the aromatic kitchen table, although on rare occasions Mom let me take the meal into the living room. But this being Christmas, I probably enjoyed turkey sandwiches and cold stuffing---on fresh hard rolls if possible. I was never a fan of stuffing sandwiches because it seemed somewhat redundant [I didn't really understand the word at that time] and too bready.

Noon was the traditional start to the Soap Opera Day, this time with 'Valiant Lady.' Competition included 'Tennessee Ernie', 'Merry Mailman' [also past my years], The Christophers [a ubiquitous religious show], and the 'Coffee Club.' 'Love of Life', another soap, checked in at 12:15. Then at 12:30, the soap 'Guiding Light' aired. Soaps were rather short at the time, most being just fifteen minutes---barely enough time for a TV kiss these days.

'Jack Paar' arrived at 1 pm with his variety show. There wasn't much shown against him: 'Food for Thought' [not cooking], Nancy's Kitchen, and a couple of old movies. 'Love Story' at 1:30 was an interview show. Then, a game show, and two movies ['The Bunker' and 'Ramrod'.] At 2 pm, we move on to 'Robert Q Lewis', a 'Richard Willis' beauty show and some more movies ['Dr Mac', 'The Stars Don't Shine', and 'Road to Alcatraz.']

'Art Linkletter's House Party' meandered in at 2:30 against 'Jinx's Diary' [Jinx Falkenburg's fashion], 'Maggie McNellis' [today: modern French furniture], another film ['Some Small Nobility'], and the musical 'Florian ZaBach' show, this day with 'Glow Worm', 'Last Round-Up', 'April in Portugal', and 'Danny Boy.' 3 pm announced itself as it did when school would naturally be in session. 'The Big Payoff' quiz show, 'Matinee Theater', another movie ['Trouble Preferred'], and 'The Ted Steele Show', with guests Corkie Robbins and Ceil Loman. Oh, and Dione Lucas had a cooking show. At 3:30 'Bob Crosby' rolled in with 'Sixteen Tons' and 'The First Snowfall', followed by 'Window Shopper', 'Candid Camera [Alan Funt; I always thought this show was old film, but later I realized I was watching original shows], and 'Jewish Talent Unlimited.' The latter featured Able Ellstein presenting Fern Field and Bill Werbell. Short shows for the hour included 'Mr and Mrs Jewish TV' and 'Les Paul and Mary Ford.' Throw in a five minute news show.

More from the soap genre at four with 'Brighter Day' and 'Date With Life'---'Jessie hears the news and makes an angry decision.' Also at 4 pm was the 'Wendy Barrie Show', a Hopalong Cassidy western, more Ted Steele, a western with Buster Crabbe, and another movie: 'Rocketship X-M.' Soap 'Secret Storm' rolled in at 4:15, sided by 'First Love.' A quiz [On Your Account], 'World of Mr Sweeney' with Charles Ruggles, the 'Outdoor Adventure Club', and---drum roll!!---'Junior Frolics' with Uncle Fred Sayles---though I wasn't watching it regularly at the time. Age ten was almost 21, so I was leaving the kid stuff behind me. As you'll remember, 'Junior Frolics' was a cartoon calvacade led by Farmer Gray and his mice 'friends.'

The 5 pm movie was 'Diplomatic Passport' with Marsha Hunt. 'Pinky Lee' amused the younger crowd, and Ted Steele had his teenaged 'Bandstand'---Young Judeans from Kingsbridge, Bronx. Tom Tyler starred in 'Feud of the Trail', and finally we reach Annette and the 'Mickey Mouse Club.'

Mickey's Club had newsreels of water pets, horse hobbies, good shepherds and a dog's life; 'Mr Toad Car', 'Musical Farmer', and a bio of the black bear. It wasn't noted, but I think it fair to assume that Annette and Jimmy had a song or two, probably with the Club. 'Howdy Doody' signed in at 5:30. 'Howdy and Heidi discover that Doodyville has been sold to the Army. It was to be used as a site for the testing of bombs.'

At 6 pm was the news, 'Wild Bill Hickok', with Guy Madison and Andy Devine, 'Rocky Jones', 'Gene Autry', and 'Durango Valley Raiders' with Bob Steele. The Early Show [movie] was 'Heartbeat', a comedy starring Ginger Rogers. We skimmed through sports, weather, 'Looney Toons', 'Cisco Kid', 'Ramar of the Jungle', and a Roy Rogers and Dale Evans western. Hang on, folks, we're getting near prime time.

Starting at 7 pm we enjoyed a New York City special of the top ten local stories from the year, 'Kukla, Fran and Ollie', a detective movie ['Unforgotten Crime'], more news and weather, 'Les Paul and Mary Ford' again, and the ubiquitous 'Film Shorts.' The 'Brave Eagle' of Keith Larsen galloped in at 7:30 along with the 'Eddie Fisher' show ['Something's Gotta Give', 'Naughty Lady of Shady Lane', 'Love is a Many-Splendoured Thing'], a few more movies ['The Black Book' with Robert Cummings and Arlene Dahl, and 'Knight Without Armor' with Marlene Dietrich and Robert Donat], and 'Disneyland', where the viewers visited 'Tomorrowland' for 'Man in the Moon.' This was a time of only Disneyland [just opened] as a huge theme park. Disneyworld in Florida was still a dream. More news, Liberace, and the first installment of the 'Million Dollar Movie' [M$DM] followed quickly. The M$DM for the week was 'Three Husbands', starring Emlyn Williams, Eve Arden, Howard Da Silva, and Vanessa Brown. It must be noted again, that the same M$DM was shown each evening at 7:30 and 10pm, several times on Saturday and Sunday for the week. The movie was hard to miss. And if you liked it, you were like a pig in-----well, you had plenty of opportunities to watch it.

Prime Time! Prime Time! 8 pm greeted us with 'Godfrey and Friends', 'Director's Playhouse' ['Titanic Incident'], 'Cases of Scotland Yard' [The Candlelight Murder'], and 'Oral Roberts.' At 8:30, the Anderson family joined us in 'Father Knows Best.' Robert Young, Jane Wyatt, Elinor Donahue led us into that daily adventure. George Murphy [later Senator] hosted 'MGM Parade' [Nelson Eddy and Jeannette MacDonald; Robert Benchley; a Susan Hayward dramatic scene; and a few other shorts], and Jack Webb starred in 'Badge 714' with Ben Alexander, asking for 'Just the facts, ma'am. Just the facts.'

Deep into prime time came 'The Millionaire', and Marvin Miller as my favorite person, Michael Anthony. He was charged with delivering $1 million checks [tax free!] to friends and neighbors and following up with the details of what happened. I'm still waiting for mine. Against that was the 'Kraft Theatre' ['Eleven O'Clock Flight' with Joanne Woodward,] 'Masquerade Party', 'China Smith' [Dan Duryea with another air drama, 'Plane to Tainan'], 'Confidential File', 'College Basketball' with Iona [my alma mater] against Springfield College. I have no idea who won. I was only ten and couldn't bet anywhere---though I found out a few years later that my barber would have been the connection I needed.

'I've Got a Secret' with Garry Moore arrived at 9:30 along with 'Break the Bank', 'Strange Stories' ['Out of the Dark'], and Broderick Crawford in 'Highway Patrol.' The former two shows didn't tell us in advance what they were about. At 10 pm, another movie studio presented itself in the '20th Century Fox Hour', this time with Cameron Mitchell, Sylvia Sidney, Vera Miles, and Alan Hale Jr [of 'Gilligan's Island' fame in the hazy future.] Ralph Edwards gave us 'This is Your Life.' The surprisee wasn't named in this TV Guide, but it was probably some unknown Hollywood technician or director. Willie Pep fought Andy Arkel in Miami, the M$DM signed in again, and Herb Philbrick [Richard Carlson] acted out another espionage instalment of 'I Led Three Lives.'

At 10:30 you could toss back a cold one and watch the 'Rheingold Theatre', tonight with Douglas Fairbanks Jr. On other channels were news, sports, and a Bill Stern interview. Eleven o'clock rolled in with the news shows, CBS and NBC at ten minutes, and Dumont at fifteen. We could also choose 'Star Showcase' [Slide, Darling, Slide'], 'Damon Runyon Theater' ['The Good-Luck Kid' with Gene Barry and Barbara Hale], a Liberace reprise, and another mystery movie ['Castle in the Desert' with Sidney Toler]. Throw in the 'Late Show' ['Gay Desperado' - Nino Martini and Ida Lupino], and 'Featurama' [a daredevil car race; a salmon's fight for life; and a Paul Killiam comedy], and we arrive at Steve Allen and the Tonight Show. His show started at 11:20 for local variety, and then became national with the 'Tonight Show' at 11:30, this time: 'exhibition by an elephant lifter and a talk with the Dartmouth College Indians; songs by Gloria Mann and Steve Lawrence.

Les Paul and Mary Ford made another appearance, and Boris Karloff starred in 'Juggernaut.' The movie, 'Four in a Jeep' and 'Evening Prayer' brought us to the finale, the 'Late Late Show', 'Riverside Murder' [time approximate] with Alistair Sim. We could 'Count Sheep' with Nancy Berg at 1 am and finish the day with the Rev Michael McLaughlin on 'Sermonette' and Father Patrick Ahern on 'Give Us This Day.'

Okay, fade to the Test Patterns until 6:50. Each one sounded like a smoke alarm that couldn't be turned off. And when you did turn the TV off, the picture disappeared slowly into a tiny point in the center of the screen.

I notice that the Reverend McLaughlin, after giving the Sermonette at 1:05 am, returned with the opening Sermonette at 6:50 am Thursday morning, December 29th. Hang in there Rev!

Junior Frolics and Associates Part 7 of 8

What else did we see? Charles Dickens' 'Oliver Twist' [1948] with Obi Wan Kenobi the younger [Alec Guinness,] and Robert Newton was the epitome of Long John Silver in 'Treasure Island' [1950.] I liked Newton better than Noah Beery as the peg-legged pirate. The 'Thief of Baghdad' [1940] with Sabu and Tim Whelan---I could have watched that movie once a day for years. Sabu with his flying carpet inspired me to write an Arabian short story years later [currently shelved due to political considerations.] The mysterious and strange 'Scarlet Pimpernel' [1935] of Leslie Howard was a Sunday afternoon treat. The 'Adventures of Robin Hood' [1938] in all its black and white glory allowed the straight shooting Errol Flynn to save Olivia de Havilland. Another presentation was 'Captain Blood' [1935,] a rousing sea adventure again showing Errol Flynn as Peter Blood ['…Colonel Darling! ...'] yet again winning the hand of Olivia de Havilland. Those two stars made eight movies together.

And who could skip 'King Kong' [1933] and the jungle adventure on Skull Island with Faye Wray, Robert Armstrong, and the ingénue, Mr. Kong. Or 'Frankenstein' [1931] with Colin Clive, Mae Clark, and the unbilled Boris Karloff. This film was scary in black and white, and imbedded in my young mind the scariness of dark, mountaintop, castle laboratories. I've always avoided such places---not that I was ever invited to one. I wonder how scary the movie would have been in color. Frankenstein's monster was really green.

The dark and eerie images of Bela Lugosi's 'Dracula' [1931] stayed with me for a long time---in scary black and white. '…I vant to bite your neck…'---perhaps not a direct quote, but in Lugosi's accent, it would have been a scary phrase. I was very happy to have Zacherley cut the horror a bit with his comedy. Thank you, John. I hope your wife's brain hasn't been served with onion dip.

Dracula and Frankenstein, partnered with the compelling life of Larry Talbot seen in the 'Wolf Man' [1941---year of the wolf bane,] to make the Big Three horror movies of my youth. I watched them numerous times; black and white, nothing graphic (spurring imagination was the key,) no gore, but pure Gothic terror at times for a young boy of the fifties.

When Dad spent the evening donating carpentry service to the Church? Why that was a good time for Happy Felton and the Dodger game, again with me on the floor in front of the TV with my Hershey ice cream or blue cheese and crackers---slowly disappearing into the setting son.

Happy Felton, a rotund fellow who looked rather silly in a Dodger uniform, had a pre-game show just before the Dodger games. Down the right field line, the guest Dodger player would usually throw or fungo hit a ball for the kid contestants to catch against the right field bullpen wall. The player then chose the best of three to win the contest. The kid generally won some memorabilia, baseball equipment, or both.

Happy also had a regular Saturday show, 'Happy Felton's Knothole Gang,' with guest players from the New York teams teaching kids baseball basics. The kids were taught in Ebbets Field, the Polo Grounds, and Yankee Stadium. It ran from 1950 to 1957. I guess it ended, in part, because the Dodgers and Giants moved from New York City to the West Coast leaving two-thirds of his ballparks empty.

Friday was grocery-shopping night for our family. We went with Mom and Dad when I was very young, but I could tell that Dad didn't enjoy the trip. He treated it as a responsibility and not as an enjoyable experience. I wasn't much older when the trip turned to an us and Mom-only expedition. Sometimes I went, but I was more likely to stay at home watching educational western TV or the Dodgers. So, most of the time, Mom went alone---well, not entirely. I guess little Mary Anne went with her.

And when she returned, I'd help unload the car. After which, I'd spend a few minutes looking through the bags to see what Mom had bought---not putting things away, mind you, but checking things out. Cookies, candies, and crackers were usually opened before the rest of the bags were empty. Oreos, Hydrox, Peanut Butter Creams, and chocolate chips were the cookies of choice. We also enjoyed Premium Saltine Crackers with almost anything. I had wheat crackers for my blue cheese.

Our grocery shopping was done at the A & P in downtown Middletown, near the phone company. It's not that we had a lot of choices. Other than the Grand Union on Orchard Street across from the library, there wasn't anyplace else of size to shop. There was the local Markovitz at the other end of town, and several other smaller groceries around, including Shoemaker's down our street at Larkin's corner [where I voted every year for Miss Rheingold.] But their prices were higher [though phenomenally cheap by today's standards], and they had limited selections. We only used the latter when we needed a few things and couldn't go to the A & P. When I was young, the stores were relatively small. No one even imagined a super-store. In the A & P, which was miniscule compared to the current stores, there were narrow aisles, stuffed shelves, the aroma of ground Eight O'clock Coffee pervading the air, a basic selection of fresh produce [in smaller quarters, the aromas are stronger,] and a bin of empty product boxes near the front. The A & P even had its own house brand of beer, though I don't know anyone who dared taste it. Noise and conversation abounded while our groceries were packed in paper bags or the binned boxes as we chose. Big, black cash registers were used and filled the air with even more noise. Ka-chink. Ka-chink.

When I'd be with Mom shopping, I'd push the cart with my attention directed around me to see who else was there. Thus, I often ran over Mom's poor heels in front of me. She'd have something to say about it, but I'd be likely to do it again. Maybe that's part of the reason she didn't mind my staying home and leaving the grocery shopping to her and Mary Anne.

Most stores were open to 9 pm on Friday nights. The rest of the week saw 6 pm closings, and everybody was closed on Sundays. This schedule was pretty standard, and I remember working at Green's Department Store from 1964-66 when we'd be open only on Friday nights. Of course the Christmas season was different. The stores remained open later each night as a matter of course–but still only until nine.

Except for the Yankees, 'Perry Mason,' and an occasional movie we hadn't seen before, Mom and Dad didn't watch television all that much. Dad occasionally watched Wednesday night or Friday night boxing when there was nothing else to engage his interest or Sugar Ray Robinson was on the card. Dad was an adherent of the concept that Sugar Ray was, 'pound for pound' the best boxer around. [Though that concept, literally, doesn't make much sense.] If we were all in the living room, we'd be watching television, and Dad and Mom would be reading---a habit I picked up. I can read anything light while the TV is on. Anything heavy or more intellectual will require silence. So the TV goes off.

I toiled on my homework upstairs in my room or downstairs at the kitchen table while Mom washed the dishes. I liked to have her immediately available to answer a question or deny having the knowledge. Any questions mathematical or physical were normally saved for Dad. I'd open the learning season by choosing new supplies such as a protractor, compass, pencils, pens, rulers---though they'd go missing when the next summer came around.

I used all those supplies, and usually brought some home each night in a book bag. Nobody used knapsacks, and we didn't have lockers. We could leave some books and notes in our desks, which had flip-tops, since for the most part we didn't change desks or classrooms. In high school it wasn't cool to use the book bags anymore. We could use small gym bags or use a rubber strap around the loose books, or just carry the books themselves. We still didn't have any lockers in high school either, but at that point we didn't care. The books used were simply too heavy to cart home unless we needed them for homework. The only desk storage space was underneath the seat. But, really, who would have stolen a Latin or Algebra textbook?

As with any youth, my homework was sometimes sketchy or forgotten. Amid the laughing and yelling on the high school bus, we'd compare our night's work, I'd share my work, or I'd copy from someone else's efforts if I agreed with him. I 'borrowed' from Jack Mills enough to have him comment about it in my yearbook. I was no slouch in criticizing his work either, but still---better a wrong something than nothing at all. There were many other pens and pencils working on the bus ride, so I wasn't alone in 'borrowing' homework. And as necessary, I lent my Latin efforts to others, even Jack. Fair is fair! Besides, nobody but Madeleine could translate Latin with any competence, and she wouldn't participate in our fair and balanced swapping. Usually, most of the rest of us were all off base. My efforts usually had numerous blank spaces for missing words or phrases. Opera publicus, Sister Chabonel!

Surprisingly, we didn't talk much about the previous night's TV fare, unless it was important for some reason: major cold war news, changes to the hierarchy in the USSR, the newest rock and roll songs, new model cars, major league baseball games or trades, or local news of note, or the latest romantic pairings. But mostly we had our own concerns.

I know. I know. I'm off the TV track and on the bus track to school. But, everything just flows, rather like responding to an essay question for which I actually know the answer. So, I let my mind wander wherever it wants to go---stream of consciousness as it were.

Back in the fifties, we could actually tell the difference between cars and the models of each make, as well as their years of manufacture. The models changed quite a bit each year, and kept us memorizing. Seeing them in a sunny situation was sometimes awe-inspiring. Man and machine. These days, you can't tell one model from another or one nameplate from another, and the cars are decidedly not awesome. Cookie-cutter cars, as it were---with the exception of the Chrysler 300 and Dodge Charger, which look like each other. And they both look like the Bentley. And I like all three, though I'd still rather have a jaguar. We didn't really track the changes in annual television set models---though I must say again that the Sylvania halo television appealed to my tender years.

I wasn't the type who could study amid loud rock and roll, or loud anything for that matter. In high school and college my study habits were rather quiet. I made my noise in social situations. We maintained a quiet home at 126 Cottage, except when Mom and Dad were yelling at each other.

Not noisy at home? I can still laugh about the time Mom caught me in my room singing 'Mack the Knife,' with Bobby Darin's versions on the radio and the record player all bellowing or blasting at the same time--- well…I wasn't studying, that's for sure. Mom opened the door and scared the hell out of me. Couldn't she have waited until the song was over?

Junior Frolics & Associates Part 6 of 8

'The Million Dollar Movie' [M$DM] was an interesting concept. The same movie played at 7:30 pm and then again at 10 pm [during the day on weekends] on WOR-TV, Channel 9, a local channel. And this for an entire week! Some of the times changed over the years, but the M$DM lasted for quite some time: 'King Kong', 'Yankee Doodle Dandy', 'Mighty Joe Young', 'Three Husbands', 'Adventure in Baltimore' etc. Not every movie could be a M$DM. Only ones which could gather your attention over and over and not become stale---and me and Mary Anne could attest to that. We watched some of them weekday evenings at the early showing, and on weekends during the daylight hours. [Movies changed on Mondays.]

You don't see that kind of station or network dedication today. One exception is one of the true marathons of one show I've ever seen on TV. Spike TV showed CSI for an entire week. All the time. Every hour a different episode. From 9 am thru 3 am. From Monday through Friday. It filled in a lot of dead time as background for these essays when nothing very interesting was on any of the other stations. I usually have the TV on for company these days, and I can write these essays while they keep me interested between sentences. [USA does have frequent mini-marathons with Law and Order CI or Law and Order: SVU for a whole day] Other than the M$DM, there weren't any marathons in early TV.

Running times for the 'Million Dollar Movie' depended on the length of the movies, and how much had been cut to disinfect them for our poor minds. But, the movies were generally an hour and a half, some two. There were fewer commercials at the time [yet we still complained.] These days, with so many cable channels, you can see one movie a hundred times over the period of a few months. But it'll be hit or miss and won't be on a regular schedule. And I've seen movies on modern channels interrupted by numerous commercials---often at a poorly appointed time---the break often going up to three minutes. TV film editors continue to be lacking a cylinder or two.

Among the movies I particularly remember from that M$DMovie' series were 'Yankee Doodle Dandy' [1942] with Jimmie Cagney and Joan Leslie ['…born on the fourth of July...'] the story of George M. Cohan, the prolific composer and showman, and “Mighty Joe Young' (1949) with Terry Moore. This latter movie featured a stirring rendition of 'Beautiful Dreamer,' proving that the right music can decidedly tame the wild beast. It tamed Mr. Joseph Young of Africa, and it can always tame me. Mary Anne and I loved those two movies, and when they were on the M$DM, we must have seen each one a dozen times during its week. They were definitely one of the movies we had “seen before.'

I still remember lying on the floor watching Jimmie Cagney faking old age, kicking up his heels, dancing around the stage, singing, marching with his movie family, and being rightly humble with President Roosevelt. The music sold me on the pre-war tin-pan-alley tunes. As for Mr. Joseph Young of Africa, I can still see him playing tug of war with the 'strong' men, of whom Primo Carnera was the only one I recognized as being authentic, though I had heard of the Swedish Angel, Killer Kuwalski, and Man Mountain Dean. Later in the movie, Joe was a sight riding in the back of a moving truck, peaking out, shaking his fist, and then climbing out to scale a burning building to save the orphans. Hot stuff! And that fire scene had an orange tint throughout, reminiscent (I suppose) of the silent movie era---although I didn't know that until later when I had a color TV.