Train Wreck Sepia Saturday 57

Train wreck late  to mid 1920's Here in MN

Just a short one this week and rather late for me; here is a photo of the train wreck I mentioned last week.  We know nothing about it other than Jerry's maternal  grandfather, Charlie,   is the man standing with his arms crossed in front of himself and  to the left of a taller man in the back of the photo. You have to click on the photo to enlarge it and see this.   Last week I shared one of Charlie hauling debris with his team of horses and wondered if it might have been from this same wreck because one of the gentlemen, dressed in a suit and hat and  overseeing the process was observing in that photo too.  We can see this was an old steamer train, and the rail road line CM & St. P.may have been part of the Midwest.  We are not familiar with that either.  Wonder how they righted this giant locomotive without use of today's rigs?  Must have been a chore for many men.

Perhaps we can learn more about this photo and incident by taking it to a meeting of our local La Crescent Historical Society or digging through their archives.  We are not certain if this was here along the track of town, elsewhere  in the area perhaps a couple miles down the track toward Dakota or the other direction toward Houston.  But we were thrilled to salvage this from Aunt Marie's; it is on a board in an old wooden frame the back of which is nailed into the fame with bent over old nails.  Jerry tried removing the back board  very carefully, but only got so far as a couple nails would not dislodge so he felt better to leave it be and not damage it.  He has it hanging proudly in his little corner of the downstairs TV/rec room where he can view it from his recliner. Here's a closing sneak at that exhibit, not Sepia, just the way at ease where today he will be found watching the NFL playoffs--my  recliner is off to the  right where I will be rooting  for my hometown Steelers, singing Blackbird bye bye to the Baltimore Ravens! 

Train wreck photo on wall, Jerry's recliner

This is my Sepia Saturday post this week.  To see others, click on the title above to this post where you can link to our international community site and enjoy many other photos of people, places and times...

Unbroken by Laura Hillenbrand

You  might get tired of hearing this, but I LOVED this book, all 398 pages of the story, 8 pages of Acknowledgements and 50 pages of notes; I do not recall reading a book through  including the notes in recent times or ever other than James Michener's later  books, in fact Laura Hillenbrand, the author reminds me of Michener in style and depth of research.  "Unbroken"  on the best sellers lists currently is the story of Louie Zamperini,  noted runner in the Berlin Olympic games and in 1943 an Army Air Corps  Lieutenant, bombardier on the Green Hornet, a B-24, which is shot down in the Pacific.  Louie, Allen Philips, the pilot and Mac, the tail gunner survive the crash and float on a raft for 46 days before being captured by the Japanese and taken prisoner in May 1943.  Actually Mac does not make it  and is buried at sea by the two men.  I have read much about World War II because of my father but little of my readings have been about the war in the Pacific.  When I first heard this book was in  process I knew I would have to read it because Laura has written only one other book, "Seabiscuit" which I absolutely enjoyed and have kept in my library and I enjoyed her detail and writing and research.  I have likely heard about Louie Zamperini but not paid attention but as I learned that it was a B-24, same plane as my father's I knew I'd b reading this book.

Louie Zamperini

Louie is still alive today at 94 in southern California.    How he or any of the men captured by the Japanese as POW's survived and endured is beyond belief.  As Zeke Jennings wrote in his review of this book,  "Think back to the worst experience of your life. Chances are, it pales in comparison to what Louis Zamperini went through..."  To state that they were tortured is an inadequate understatement and to know that some could and did survive is a testament to human endurance and something greater than all of us.

This book has a great deal of detail and drawings of the B-24's the complexity of those early days of navigation and the problems with that bomber, the best that the US had at the time.  Pages 59-60 describe the early B-24's and the personal qualities needed in men who flew them and by page 61 the research specifies the deadly accidents attributable to that plane in the early days of navigation.  I had learned about the accidents in training and of course lived with that legacy but reading it again gave me chills.  By page 82 the affect of human errors and miscalculations is discussed along with the faulty fuel systems and the fact that the  24's were notorious for fuel leaks; I can relate to that.   On Page 84,  I learned that 52,173 Army Air Corps men were killed in combat in World War II and in the Pacific those flight crews had less than a  50/50 chance of survival.   I learned that by design the B-24's could not ditch  but sank immediately due to their open fuselages.  There were rarely funerals held for the  B-24 crews, rarely  bodies were found and during the Pacific  missions  1/4 of a barracks could be lost at once.  "The men were just gone and that was the end of it."   

But this book is about Louie, his boyhood in Torrance, California, his Olympic triumphs,  his education at USC, his enlistment in World War II, and his captivity, endurance and release and tormented existence following the war where he turns to alcohol and then his  big life release as he is saved at a Billy Graham crusade in southern CA.  It's hard to describe Louie, a man with a sense of humor and determination that sustains him through movements from bad to worse in the Japanese camps, beatings,  isolation,  starvation, and unceasing nightmares.  The Bird, a Japanese soldier, so named by the POWs is Louie's primary menace in the camps and becomes his civilian nightmare.  The Japanese knew of his Olympic fame and enjoyed all the more subduing him.   When  Louie was released and being rehabilitated and ready to be sent  home from Okinawa he is so enjoying meeting up with former colleagues that he asks to stay just a bit longer to  see more of them. He is partying too and enjoying life again, though still battling dysentery and other physcial problems.  Everyone had believed him long dead  because the Japanese never reported that he was held captive and the Red Cross  never verified men in the camps; any man missing was declared dead after 13 months.   Louie got a big kick out of surprising them and watching their faces and hearing their words when they saw him in person!

The horrors and atrocities the  prisoners endured are unimaginable.  That any of them survived is a miracle.  I learned that the POWs in the  Japanese camps were executed  when Allied forces approached, that the Japanese  preferred to kill the men rather than turn them back to their countries.  Pg. 314-315 cite "Japan held  some  132,000 POWs from America, Britain, Canada, New Zealand, Holland and Australia.  Of those, nearly  36,000 died, more than one in four.  Americans fared particularly badly: of the 34,648 Americans held by Japan, 12,935--more than 37% died.  By comparison only 1% of Americans  held by Nazis and Italians died. Japan murdered thousands of POWs on death marches, and worked thousands of others to death in slavery..."  Back in civilian life, these men did not get the counseling and treatments pervasive and  given today; what is  known today as Post traumatic  stress was not recognized. That they made it through hell barely prepared them fro their freedom and return to life.   Pg. 349, "Their dignity had been obliterated, replaced with a pervasive sense of shame and worthlessness." But Louie survives and ultimately thrives, marries, has children and outlives his brother,  sisters and wife .  In his 70's he takes up skateboarding and the book includes a photo of him on a skateboard at 81!  He runs the torch in five Olympic games including  one in Japan where he runs it past the former POW camp site.  Louie founds a nonprofit Victory Boys Camp for lost boys whom he takes fishing, swimming, horseback riding, camping and skiing.  One ungovernable boy is such a problem that Louie had to be deputized by a sheriff to gain custody of the boy.

Pg. 384, "Well into his 10th decade of life between the occasional broken bone he could still be seen perched on skis merrily cannonballing down mountains.  He remained infectiously, incorrigibly cheerful..."  He believes that everything happened for a reason  and all things eventually  come to good.    When he contacted Laura to write his story he reasoned that if she could describe an old horse, she could surely tell his tale.  She does this so  eloquently and has chosen the photos and events as carefully as her words.  The Epilogue is very touching  with summaries of the lives of Allen Phillips  and Bill Harris, a marine POW who stays in the Marines and becomes a Lt. Colonel but who disappears in the Korean War in 1950.   

Recently there have been news stories featuring Louie which is timely with the release of this book.  I knew it was one I'd want to read and it is one I will keep and treasure.   I absolutely recommend it.  Resilience, survival, and faith.  As I am  putting this on  my blog as my first completed book read in 2011, I have just learned that Universal Pictures has acquired screen rights to Unbroken.   Wouldn't it be great to see Louie in the film? 

For more about the author, who is a favorite of mine, check out  Wikipedia at   http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Laura_Hillenbrand

or this link http://www.cfids-cab.org/MESA/Hillenbrand.html 
and read of her struggle with chronic fatigue syndrome in    A Sudden Illness -- How My Life Changed as published in the New Yorker.  And this link about  her http://www.bookreporter.com/authors/au-hillenbrand-laura.asp

Sepia Saturday 56 The Model Ts and Horse Drawn

Charlie Behrndt driving horse team in La Crescent
Appx 1920's

This is my response to the horse drawn photo on the Sepia site, from the Library of Congress.   I'm back to sorting photos from Jerry's side, ones we rescued from his 93 year old mother's stacks when we moved her into the nursing home in September.  Among our many frustrations with her is the big unanswered question, "why  didn't she share any of this stash earlier so the family might have been able to identify people and events, when folks  were alive and around when there could have been discussions?."  Such is the theme song of her life, self centered, poor decisions with little care about others as I have written about before but this is not about her only as  she is the source of these photos....  Jerry has most fond  memories of his maternal Grandpa Charlie Behrndt and knows that Grandpa Charlie did not  like to drive instead leaving the driving to Grandma Esther a diffferent attitude for that time. Charlie preferred his horses, so when we found this old photo where Aunt Marie had written across the back, "Pa, moving rail road debris"  it brought a laugh.  Unfortunately it was not dated, so we can guess it is likely the  1920's and easily identified as winter or spring thaw.    We have a very old photo, mounted on a splintered wooden board, nailed into a frame, of a rail road wreck  that came from Aunt Marie; it shows the old steamer train well off the track in the snow.  Jerry has it hanging near his evening chair downstairs; it won't scan as is and I have not been able to get a good photo of it to share here, but we think it is the same event.  We recall Aunt Marie saying that Pa (Charlie) picked up extra money when there was something to be hauled.  Notice the  gentleman standing off to the  left side  dressed with hat, that same man and others dressed like that are present in the train wreck photo.   He appears to be some sort of official overseeing the process. 



Charlie Behrndt beside the Model T appx 1923

 This photo shows Charlie dressed up beside the family auto, Model T. Reportedly the family  was not at all wealthy, but for  farmers of this time to have an auto seems somewhat on the prosperous end of things to me.  There is some speculation that the auto may have been a gift to Charlie when he and Esther married a dowry from her parents, the Wetchens.  The back of the photo and the suit Charlie is wearing (seen in other photos of the same day)  indicate it was taken at his parent's  50th anniversary,  in  1923. There's someone taking the photo, whose shadow appears in the left.  Jerry loves this photo and wants to have it enlarged and framed to hang in the relatives' gallery downstairs.

One last auto photo for this post shows Charlie's in laws, or Esther's parents, Dietrick and Louisa Wetchen coming or going in their automobile.  Aunt Marie's writing  on the top; they lived in the city--La Crosse and had come out to the farm to visit Esther and the girls.  Guessing again that this is in the 1920's but no later than 1925 because Dietrick died  August 1925.  None of the color selections that  abound now for vehicles  were available back then and really the designs show little variation, although the pair of greats  are going  top down!

This is my first Sepia Saturday post of 2011; to see  others' contributions to our international community, click on the title to this post above. 

Magpie Tales 47 Sidewinder

She: "What the hell do you suppose it is? Nothing collectible in here for me."    

He:  "Well it's but a part of or a piece of something that combines with something else in this box of parts."

She:  "Brilliant! But then what is it?"

He:  "If you say so.....remember I am not the one who paid  $20 for this trunk of junk!  Buying a pig in a poke and look what it got! Maybe all the pieces scattered through come together to make one something..old or rare or even useful.."

Another younger She voice:  "Dad, Mom, where are you?"

He:  "Out in the shed,  Lizzie...."

Lizzie:  "Oh, guess what happened today at school?  Never mind, I'll tell you, I won the story poetry contest for the third week in  a row now!  That puts me at the top of the chart for the class; I'm 60 points ahead of the rest...they won't catch me now! And that means I am going to go on to the District finals in Philly, I just know it. And that means I have to start thinking right now what I'll write on for....whoa, What's that?"

He:  "Where have I heard that question before?"

She:  "Exactly what I asked before Mr. Puzzle Piecer commented on scattered pieces making a whole or something wise  like that...."

Lizzie:  "That's it Mom, I'm going to my room to  work on my poem for Philly!  It'll be 'Scattered Pieces!'  Thanks for the idea..nobody's gonna believe this my Mom had an idea that I could write about....later....."

He:  "Well, damn, there is more......."

She:  "It looks like a pipe..and wire and......"

He:  "It's a roller spool and wire and here is the other side of the one sided winder you were pondering......"

She: "Put it all together and still what is it?"

He:  "Well it's heavy cast iron and shiny as glass....there's a cog on the inside here to thread the wire; and a clamp.   Looks like it fastened to a work bench by  the vise clamp...this small pin moves the cogs...wait a minute...I'm  getting my Kovel's Guide to Old Tools.....it looks like, really a sidewinder....the Union Army used them in the Civil War to tighten the  wire bales on the....."

She:  "Umm hmm, right, a sidewinder...next?  I'll go mix up the martinis and start dinner..."

Later that evening, Lizzie shares her rough draft of her 'Scattered Pieces' poem.."Dad I need a punch line....".

Mom loves estate sales, auctions and junk
Dad loves the tools all metals and hunks.
Mom bought a trunk full of metal scattered  pieces
Dad put it together with screw drivers and greases.
Dad laughed at the pieces, scattered all through the trunk
But it kept him quite  busy those nuts, bolts and funk.
His work really paid off in value today
It entertained him for hours, will he sell it for pay?

Scattered pieces put together one piece made from many
With imagination and thought it grows into  plenty
Plenty of tools and gadgets and such useful stuff
But even Mom never dreamed  of a sidewinder in the rough.
Scattered pieces of such like the folks we all know
Brought together into one, our friendships may grow
At school, stores and churches wherever we wend
We can bring them together as  family and friend.

Mom laughed out loud for she'd only paid twenty
Not one dollar more, for those pieces aplenty .
But Dad had the last laugh,  a side winder tattered
The price in Kovels  became  all that  now mattered
It's worth is hundreds of dollars his old tool book said
Such worth from scattered pieces grew inside our old shed.

Try taking scattered pieces today wherever you go
Keep them close together, it works, now you know...

Lizzie:  "Dad, help me here, we need catch words to rhyme and a good finale!"

He: " Keep on thinking, girlie, you're  onto something there....."

Mom: "All thanks to my scattered trunk pieces for the inspiration.."

This has been my feeble attempt using the prompt posed for this week's Magpie Tales.  To read what others have written on the same prompt, click on the title to this post.  A sidewinder is my purely fictional way of portraying this whatever it is along with its fictional  use. It all makes a story.  If someone knows of such a contraption...please let me know...

Woody the Woodpecker is alive and well and destructive

We have heard that they are not often sighted and occur in pairs, the pileated woodpecker, the model for Woody the Woodpecker of our cartoon fame.  I remember laughing like silly when I watched Woody's antics.  Wikipedia offers this  "Woody Woodpecker cartoons were first broadcast on television in 1957 under the title The Woody Woodpecker Show, which featured Lantz cartoons bookended by new footage of Woody and live-action footage of Lantz. Woody has a motion picture star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame on 7000 Hollywood Boulevard.

Woody Woodpecker is an animated cartoon character, an anthropomorphic acorn woodpecker who appeared in theatrical short films produced by the Walter Lantz animation studio and distributed by Universal Pictures. Though not the first of the screwball characters that became popular in the 1940s, Woody is perhaps the most indicative of the type.  Woody was created in 1940 by storyboard artist Ben "Bugs" Hardaway, who had previously laid the groundwork for two other screwball characters, Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck, at the Warner Bros. cartoon studio in the late 1930s. Woody's character and design would evolve over the years, from an insane bird with an unusually garish design to a more refined looking and acting character."

I remember the Woody Woodpecker Song, do you?   Actually he was one of my  favorite cartoons so I suppose I should honor his nemesis here in MN in our yard, but really. " In 1947, Woody got his own theme song when musicians George Tibbles and Ramey Idriss wrote "The Woody Woodpecker Song", making ample use of the character's famous laugh. Kay Kyser's 1948 recording of the song, with Harry Babbitt's laugh interrupting vocalist Gloria Wood, became one of the biggest hit singles of 1948 Other artists did covers, including Woody's original voice actor, Mel Blanc. Lantz first used "The Woody Woodpecker Song" in the 1948 short Wet Blanket Policy, and became the first and only song from an animated short subject to be nominated for the Academy Award for Best Song; Lantz soon adopted the song as Woody's theme music, and due to the song's popularity, Woody Woodpecker fan clubs sprang up, theaters held "Woody" matinees, and boys got the "Woody Woodpecker" haircut.  Woody's wild days were numbered, however. In 1946, Lantz hired Disney veteran Dick Lundy to take over the direction chores for Woody's cartoons. Lundy made Woody more defensive; no longer did the bird go insane without a legitimate reason. "   Maybe our bird just  did not get the memo?

For a few weeks now, from our kitchen window, we have been watching this big guy land at the back yard bird feeder station and posts.  He is immense with a wingspan the size of a small hawk.  We will attempt to get better photos but for now, here is our destructive Woody.  Bird watchers think us  fortunate to have this guy, I am not so sure after today;  in this picture to the right of him you can see whitish stuff, that is the remnant of the post which he has just started to destroy yesterday, and has made great progress. The adjective "insane" seems to fit this character because if we don't get something done, he is going to take the  station down!  That white streak to the right of him is opened wood, on the  4   x 6 post which he has shredded away, huge shreds  and splinters of wood  are all over the ground below.   Check out the size of his beak!  He attacks with it, we have seen him go after a squirrel that he thought ventured too close. Here you see him moving the suet feeder and better exposing the destruction he has wreaked!  I can tell you I was not singing the Woody song today when I watched him, nor was I trying to mimic that Woody laugh, which I was quite good at in my childhood, driving my mother around the bend.  We have heard that people in this area disdain building homes of wood, fearing the woodpeckers will seek out pecking orders and with what he has done to the post you can imagine the fear of having your home pecked to death by a bird! 

Just so you can see for yourself his size, the right in this photo shows the bird feeder tube which is about  two feet long, it is to discourage squirrels as the seed doors shut down from their weight when they land there.  You can see Woody  is at least half the length of the tube, which  Jerry refilled after these photos.  We enjoy watching the birds and there used to be several other kinds of woodpeckers at the suet feeder but not lately. I mean would you want to take on this beak?

Last Books of 2010

I know I should have done this before my end of year  New Year greeting, but I didn't and so please go on to the  post following this for New Years Wishes, or simply accept my Happy New Year to  you and yours right here.  These three books are my  last full reads before closing the list of 2010; I seldom post as soon as I finish reading instead waiting till I have time and then adding two or three. All three of these books are winners and opinions will vary among readers.  Those of us who have the avid  lifelong reading habit have different favorite authors and different ways of picking our reads.  My all time preferences are with biographies and non-fiction, but I also enjoy mysteries, espionage, intrigue  and good stories so long as the writing is good.  I am not one  for pablum or what I call comic book reading, for that I'll pick up a magazine.  In backwards  order starting with the book finished a week ago, here they are....

From a fellow Sepia and sometime Magpie contributor, my bloggy friend Vicki Lane's latest is "The Day of Small Things" which fits the bill as a great story, over 413 pages in paperback, small print, well told in the dialect of Appalachia.  The characters are alive on the pages.  The interesting twist to this tale at the end made me ponder, which works best at the time or the situation, Christianity and prayer or the old Indian ways, the little people, the connection to the spirits and sprites? This is the greatest story I have read in a long time and yet it was perfect timing for me to  read her provocative  thoughts like, "our mothers, good or bad, are always with us..."  something like that near the end of the book.  The names of the characters lure the reader through the story,  some are, Least, Lilah Bel, Granny Beck, Mr Aaron, John Goingsnake, Redbird, Calven, Prim, Dorothy, Birdie, Belvy, and the places Dark Holler, Gudger's Stand, well you get the drift it's southern, Appalachian.  The dialect is exceptionally  fitting to the tale and the characters.   This link to Vicki's blog has the review from the Los Angeles Times   http://thedayofsmallthingsvickilane.blogspot.com/   Here is the closing paragraph, " It will be late summer when we bury her and the yard grass will have grown knee high.   But the joy of that perfect day, with me and Luther young and happy, comes back to me every time I hang out the laundry or whenever Bernice's boy comes over to cut the grass.  He uses a power mower--that ratchety song is gone forever, I reckon--but the sweet green smell of new mown grass don't never change."  I will recommend this book to my book club and donate my copy to my local library for other  readers to enjoy.  

I knew I had to read George W Bush' "Decision Points" and purchased my first edition upon release; it is one that will stay in my personal library.  I do not recommend this book to people who have not followed news nor studied  current or prior national  history nor to those who lack familiarity with the Bush legacy and family. I would be curious if someone like that read it what they would think; I suspect they would not enjoy this book because  I think it requires some solid knowledge or foundation  as it is not written lightly and is more like a history, although not a chronology of his presidency. I have found in discussions that history means different things to different people.  To myself it is the building block of all that happens next, the basis for actions, and the key to understanding;  a mixture of philosophy and geography and  time and place; it is knowledge and awareness.  GW's own love of history comes through loud and clear.  I loved this book and now far better understand his decisions, some of which I did not agree with.  I also had read many books about and by the Bush family and  Karl Rove's "Courage and Consequences" which was another tremendous building block to  relishing this book.  It was interesting to me to recall what Rove had written as that  same situation was portrayed in "Decision Points."  There is no variance in descriptions though from different persons.   I knew before I read it that Bush had been wrongly lambasted by our very liberal media and cohorts, represented and taunted as a dummy, a joke, or worse.  Reading this thoughtful book verifies that all that was BS by the far left and worse down right lies.  The book is not difficult to read but neither is it one to whiz through lightly, not one of those simple  pleasure reads. It is for thoughtful pondering and contemplation. A book for thinking.   There are no surprises, but many simple truths.  George Bush prevails as a statesman and an exceptional leader, in fact someone who understands the prerequisites and demands of leadership and  who was able to make the tough calls and decisions when the country needed them most.  He emphasizes  relationships he made with  world leaders and their perspectives.  His greatest accomplishment is that America was not attacked again by terrorists on his watch (Thank you President Bush!)  He admits his big disappointment was in not bringing Osama bin Laden to justice.  In the introduction  he writes that as he began to consider his memoirs, historians suggested that he read "Memoirs" by President Ulysses S. Grant, which he did.  "Like Grant, I decided not to write an exhaustive account of my life or presidency.  Instead I have told the story of my time in the White House by focusing on the most important part of the job:making decisions."  

 I have other friends who have also read and relished this book, all are avid readers and historians.  We will see what others think, but it's place on the Best Seller's speaks a tribute to the well written book.  After I read it I needed to download mentally and so moved to Vicki's; while   "Decision Points" with 477 pages,  and 14 pages of index consumed weeks of reading other books are only evenings.   

The last book is Homer Hickam's  second in his trilogy about life in the West Virginia coal mining town,"The Coal Wood Way."  another exceptional read.  The story he began in "Rocket Boys"  continues  through the boys' senior year of high school and the cross roads for the mine and the town.  You know because of my ancestors' work in the mines I am drawn into the memoir.  When he describes men walking with "trudging grace to and from the vast deep mine" and the "black faces after a shift"  I see my Grandpap and my Great Grandfather Frank and so many other ancestors.  His writing is alluring, "we endured as always" a tribute to the town and the people.  "True things are filled with shining glory" summarizes why I prefer to read non-fiction.  In this  book he makes a trip to the mine to be  renovated, 11 East with Jake, his idol and  his father's nemesis, Mr. DuBonnett, the union boss.  A small cadre of Germans have arrived to direct the renovation of what his father hopes will be the salvation for the town and for the miners.  I laughed out loud when his mother  reads something that is in his desk drawer and justifies it perfectly:  " I said aloud, ' You looked at my list?'  'Sure' she answered, 'It was in your desk drawer.  Why wouldn't I look at it?'  I was outraged but knew better than to show it.  'Oh I don't know.....maybe because it was at the bottom of the drawer under a bunch of other stuff that belongs to me.....' ...'Sonny as long as you live in my house, anything you bring into it is fair game.  But before you ask, no the reverse isn't true.  Adults have things that kids aren't allowed to see.'..."is there some sense to that?" I asked emboldened by my anger.  'No, it's just the way things are...Let me tell you something.  Someday you may have kids of your own.  You'll want to know what they're up to and you'll do just about anything to find out.  When they get mad about it, you tell them ol'Granny Elsie Hickam taught this to you:  Parents can do any dang thing they want it it's to make sure their kids get brought up right."   I know I had shades of that same conversation with my son and my  Mom with me!     360 pages of a paperback and worth every word, phrase and page.    

New Year Abides

We spent the  past day purchasing and then installing a new printer/scanner which resulted from bringing home my new Bold Blackberry smartphone replacing Pearl after the two year  contract period had expired by months.  I had debated and analyzed since October and  the other day was feeling bored so Jerry suggested we go to the Verizon store and take care of what needed to be done.  Actually we could have kept on the month to month business with Pearl, but she was starting to  demonstrate some dementia, losing her touch now and then and not staying charged up.  So it was time for her to do into the box for safekeeping in the event of needing a backup.  

I believe now (too late because he is already amongst us)  that Bold is a Blabbermouth and when I was not listening he got the attention of the old HP printer/scanner and convinced it to give up it's achy existence.  The former HP printer had been limping along and I thought it  would make it for a  bit longer, but Bold told it "enough is enough and be done with you" and so it did!  Just the other day we were in Sam's and Jerry suggested we get a new printer, but I said, "Oh no, I have it working it will be fine for a while!"  I didn't know what conversations were going on...Bold had his own challenges the first afternoon as I could not download my ringtone, "Devil Went Down to Georgia" by Charlie Daniels, that's what I had in Pearl and it is most distinctive.  When we hear the fiddle play, "Fire on the mountain, run boys run!"  We know it's the cell phone.   I chose to stay with Blackberry rather than going Droid because I do not like the touchscreens and felt I am accustomed to Blackberry and would have less to learn, which proved to be almost right.  However, after a few hours I have conquered most of Bold and we are rolling along merrily.  Except that Bold, as I said, is a Blabberer and I am sure it is a HE as opposed to Pearl who is a she. No woman would tell another to go "get done with yourself" like Bold did!  Maybe Bold is somehow tied into the death panels so many are wary of with Obsama Care.  (That is another topic of conversation and interest to me because I do believe everyone should do  end of life planning which can come at any time, but I hate to see our government sticking it's nose into this process as well, but then the one paying the bill has the ability to make the rules or something like that.  Anyway that is for another time.)  

Back to gadgets and appliances, most of us home owners have been suspicious for some time that appliances and electronic gadgets communicate in languages unknown to us and behind our backs, constantly plotting so that we spend more $ and more$ upgrading, replacing and on the hamster wheel of electronicism purchasing. 

We are both  somewhat skilled with the technology but still had issues with the new HP 6500A + Office jet printer, but it's now a go and set up wireless so we hope to be able to print from upstairs when we are using the laptop.  After  three hours efforts we needed some alcoholic refreshment to celebrate and acknowledge ourselves!   My Belvedere Polish Vodka martini hit the spot and Jerry stuck with his beer.  But today the  6500 began to chew up the paper as I tried to print a belated Holiday greeting letter.  After some diagnostics it behaved and is doing what it needs to do.  Meantime we are toying with whether or not to  get another landline to accommodate its FAX capability, something we need infrequently and have managed to do by paying our local Charlie's Office Supply in town or going to our friendly Wells Fargo Banker who obliges us for free.  So that is a question for the New Year to  hook up the fax and pay another landline and associated taxes or not?  Will we or won't we?

Meantime,  in honor of 2011 lurking behind the door, wrapped in a swaddling diaper,I wish you all the best of evenings and the happiest in the year ahead.  I have one more post to prepare on the three books I have completed so that will get into this old year, but for this post, I close with  the following, again by Edgar Guest, the people's poet of days gone by. 

Merry Christmas to All

Once upon a Christmas time, long ago, a man who had a big heart, but little money, dreamt he could give his friends endless riches. When he awoke, the dream kept running through his mind, over and over. Finally, he asked himself: "If I could give my friends anything, what would I give?" He smiled as he began to think of all the wondrous things he could buy for them but then he thought: "I'm a happy man, yet I have none of those things." And he began to think that perhaps real wealth could not be measured in riches. Perhaps there were gifts of greater value than the things money could buy. In the still of the night, he pondered these things and thought of Christmas and what it meant to him. Taking out his quill, he began to write on a parchment scroll:


On the first day of Christmas I pray for you joy in abundance and laughter, for laughter cures our ills and joy makes our spirits soar.


On the second day of Christmas, I pray for you a sigh when you need one, for a sigh clears the heart as a cough clears the throat, and with a sigh comes acceptance of what we cannot change.


On the third day of Christmas, I pray for you tears when you need them, for tears clear the eyes to see the stars and cleanse the soul to let healing begin.  

On the fourth day of Christmas, I pray for you serenity, for fights and wars start in individual hearts and that is where they must end.


On the fifth day of Christmas, I pray for you wisdom, for our priceless gift is the gift of choice - and we should use it well every day, in word and deed.


On the sixth day of Christmas, I pray for you patience, for most troubles pass if we wait them out, and success comes with persistence.


On the seventh day of Christmas, I pray for you courage, for there may be many pitfalls and dangers ahead and problems can only be solved when they are faced.


On the eighth day of Christmas, I pray for you compassion, for we cannot help others until we understand them, and we cannot understand them until we walk in their shoes.

On the ninth day of Christmas, I pray for you a willingness to work, for work turns dreams to reality - whether the dreams are ours or belong to those we can help.


On the tenth day of Christmas, I pray for you unwavering faith, for faith shapes our morals and our destiny and draws us closer to God.


On the eleventh day of Christmas, I pray for you a mind full of hope, for hope determines our attitudes, sets our goals and creates our ideals.


On the twelfth day of Christmas, I pray for you a heart so full of love that every day you must give some away to those whose paths you cross.

And with each prayer, the man realized he was not giving a gift at all, but hoping that his friends would find the gifts they already had within them. Each time he wrote a prayer, a marvelous thing happened. It seemed to him that the prayer, although offered for his friends, remained in his heart and produced in him the very thing he prayed for them. The man copied his scroll and sent the Christmas prayer to special friends, and that is where the legend of the Christmas Prayer is lost in the mists of time. The man was never heard of again but, over the years, the Christmas Prayer began to appear all over the world. People in obscure villages and big cities would receive at Christmas time a copy of the scroll from a friend. And so the wonder multiplied, until the story finally reached you. May you, too, feel the warmth and enjoy the riches of the Christmas Prayer.