Sitting At The Kitchen Table

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Ebbie
Date: 16 Sep 06 - 07:59 PM

Carly, I too had my 'special' poodle. She was not a pup when I acquired her and I had her 13 years. The most human-oriented dog I ever have known; after 30 some years I still miss her. If it is true that anything that is capable of loving survives I will see her again...

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: billybob
Date: 16 Sep 06 - 05:42 PM

Very large coffee please!
Billy and I had the most amazing experience last night, or early this morning, as our first grandchild was born.
Scarlett Mae was born at 1.15 this morning and we were there, Billy was sleeping on a settee and I was with our son in law helping our daughter, what a wonderful experience, I am speechless( to the amazement of those who know me!)
The birth of any child is special, but we are so blessed as our daughter has Crohns desease and this baby is so wanted and a very special gift. I found a quotation this morning "Of all the joys that lighten suffering earth, what joy is welcolmed like a new born child?"
So perfect a gift, to see her mothers face when she saw her for the first time!Tears are flowing, thanks for the coffee, I will sit in the corner and enjoy the table talk.
Wendy

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Rapparee
Date: 16 Sep 06 - 04:09 PM

AND a standard poodle is an excellent hunting dog. That's what they were orginally bred to be; the silly haircuts were originally a functional cut for the field. The little ball on the end of the tail, for instance, was supposed to make the dog easier to spot in high grass.

But I don't think that I'd trim a poodle like that, whether I used the dog for hunting or not.

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Carly
Date: 16 Sep 06 - 04:00 PM

We never gave our poodle a silly show cut. I totally agree, those pompoms look ridiculus. We trimmed her down in the spring, and let her grow back all through the year. My mom always said we had a summer dog, and a winter dog. I always thought about sheep,(sorry, Coco!)and then, interestingly enough, I grew up to become a spinner and weaver, and have shorn a few sheep myself. Hmmm... And yes, poodle fur spins into lovely yarn.Mom also loved Coco, not only for taking such good care of us, but because poodles do not shed, and they seem to not set off dog allergies as much as many other breeds.

Carly

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Elmer Fudd
Date: 15 Sep 06 - 07:35 PM

Hey Rap, maybe you can combine those two skills. Then you'd really have something!

Elmer

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Jerry Rasmussen
Date: 15 Sep 06 - 05:24 PM

Hey, Carly:

If someone gave me a haircut like a poodle, I guess I'd look dumb, too. Actually, I've seen large poodles not trimmed to look like a hedge, and thought they were reasonably, if not Way cool looking.
Like barking sheep.

I know that if I had a poodle and didn't trim it, I'd come to love it as much as you did yours.

(Please don't tell anyone, though... I want this kept secret.)

Hey, lefty. Glad you stopped by. We iz all friends in here. Why, I've heard from a reliable source that if you scratch Rapaire behind his left ear, his right leg twitches.

(Please don't tell anyone, though... he wants it kept a secret.)

Jerry

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Carly
Date: 15 Sep 06 - 04:53 PM

I am compelled to put in a good word for poodles. They come in all sizes, you know, and the big ones, like many bigger breeds, are nothing like their tiny, yipping cousins. I have a soft spot in my heart for standard poodles, because I was raised by one, from my birth until her death just after my 15th birthday. Coco(I know, but we didn't name her,) was smart, sweet and loyal, following me everywhere, including to school. I never knew if she was there all day, but she was always at the school door, waiting, when it was time to go home.

When I started junior high school, and had to take the bus, she at first tried to run after us. She quickly learned to wait for me at the bus stop, which she did every day. More than once she pulled me out of the creek near our house, when she felt I was in trouble. She was equally good around other kids and other animals (our house seemed to always be full of pets, from rabbits to a green-dyed Easter chick, who lived to become a green-headed hen.) The only person she did not like was the neighborhood bully. If he came into our yard, she would grab his arm (poodles were bred as hunting dogs, and have soft mouths, so she could get a good grip without hurting him,) and pull him off our property. I think she would have died, if necessary, to save a child, and I still, all these many years, and many pets, later, miss her.

Right now we have cats among us (nobody owns cats,) and I love them, too, but I would be delighted if another standard or giant poodle came into my life.

Carly

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: leftydee
Date: 15 Sep 06 - 04:27 PM

Hello Jerry and all. I've been feeling a bit stressed and thought I'd sit for a minute with some nice folks. I'm scracthing my Setter behind her ears and I feel better already.

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Rapparee
Date: 15 Sep 06 - 11:30 AM

Knowledge is never impractical. Long ago I learned how to make tombstones...ya never know. And the Army taught me about explosives. Again, ya never know.

History has shown that money spent on pure research pays off very handsomely in the long run.

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Jerry Rasmussen
Date: 15 Sep 06 - 07:53 AM

Watership Down.

That's my final answer.

The rabbits spoke of going "tharn" when they freeze in the headlights of an on-coming car.

Ya learn something every day. Whether it's of any use, other than to prove how esoteric and impractical that knowledge is, is another question.

Jerry

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Ron Davies
Date: 14 Sep 06 - 11:34 PM

Too obscure for me. I think you made it up to win at Scrabble. (Of course then I suppose you'd spell it tharnqx).

(LOL)

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Jerry Rasmussen
Date: 14 Sep 06 - 10:59 PM

I hate it when rabbits go tharn.

Jerry

(Or is that too obscure a term?)

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: JennyO
Date: 14 Sep 06 - 09:04 PM

Just dropping in for a quick coffee before I go off to another festival. This one is called the Turning Wave Festival. It's at Gundagai, scene of John's story of Yarri of Wiradjuri. His group, the Roaring Forties are doing a CD launch at the festival. We'll be staying in a caravan park just across the road from the golf course, which was where the great flood of 1852 took place. However, John assures me that a)we are on high ground and b) floods don't happen there now and haven't for a long time since various re-routing measures were taken a long time ago - forgotten what those measures are called though.

On the subject of running over animals with the car, I had an unfortunate experience a few years ago of hitting a wombat on my way to a folk festival. It was dark, and the wombat appeared too late for me to do anything about it. I couldn't see where it had gone, but I called WIRES (the organisation that looks after wildlife) and left a message (there was no-one there at 8pm at night).

I had only just bought a few weeks before, my new second-hand Holden station wagon, so it was my pride and joy. When I got to the festival, I could only see a little damage to the panel under the front bumper and, considering that wombats are quite large, heavy critters, I thought I had got off pretty lightly. Not so the wombat. A couple of people who came later had apparently seen the wombat looking dead somewhere and said "Ah, you're the person who killed the wombat!"

Anyway, driving home a few days later, the wombat got its revenge. After a while, my car started to run really roughly, getting worse and worse. I checked the oil and water. Everything seemed okay. Oil showed up as full. By the time I got to Sydney, I knew something was terribly wrong with the motor, and I was stopping every 10 minutes to pour oil directly into the top of the motor. The next day I found out that the wombat had pushed up the oil pan underneath the car stopping the oil from circulating around the motor, and the motor had literally cooked. So only a few weeks after buying this car, I had to spend heaps more money getting a reconditioned motor, and somehow it never seemed as good again.

Not much chance of hitting a wombat today - they only come out at night. The only critters I need to watch out for today are other drivers!!

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Tootler
Date: 14 Sep 06 - 08:28 PM

I would advise against it. A very large truck might come along and run them all over.

And especially for Elmer Fudd.

I was driving home from my regular singaround session tonight when my headlights picked out a rabbit in the middle of the road. It ran a short panicy way parallel to the car before I passed it. I was relieved that I did not manage to "kill the wabbit".

G

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Elmer Fudd
Date: 14 Sep 06 - 07:30 PM

So maybe we should take all these dogs for a walk along a trunk road?

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Ebbie
Date: 14 Sep 06 - 11:26 AM

I have a Cairn terrier. She is small - 20 pounds - but she is not a yapper- or yipper, for that matter. These days though, she worries me. There currently is a big black bear hanging around and Meggie goes into a teethsnapping, growling, barking, galloping frenzy when she sees or smells one. If she got too close, one swipe of the bear's paw could take her out.

Since the other morning though I'm starting to relax a little about it- the bear bluster-charged her and Meggie ran backward several yards and didn't go quite as close again. So maybe she has enough sense to avoid catastrophe.

This particular bear is in good shape but they say that as a whole the bears are hungry this year. With all the rain it's been a bad year for berries; a lot of bears won't make it through the winter.

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Rapparee
Date: 14 Sep 06 - 09:12 AM

Out here, people do keep little yappers. Gotta feed the coyotes and mountain lions something.

I knew a newfie who would bark and growl whenever he'd see you. You knew it was only an act, and when you'd cross the street to say hi he'd cower behind his human and whimper.

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Jerry Rasmussen
Date: 14 Sep 06 - 05:38 AM

I hade a dog and his name was Blue.

FUnny, I had forgotten about the Portugese Water Spaniels. I was thinking of the Wisconsin Water Spaniels that would fetch a bottle of Blatz from the ice box. I don't think they're the same breed. The ones I was aquainted with as a kid were just good hunting dogs, with no mention of Portugese. Maybe that breed really has gone extinct.

And I'm with you, Janie. I prefer larger dogs. The little ones give a whole different meaning to Yippee.

Jerry

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Elmer Fudd
Date: 13 Sep 06 - 10:58 PM

Hey Ebbie,

I've seen a Portuguese water spaniel too--she's a service dog for a disabled woman hereabouts. She opens doors, helps her cross the street, fetches things and such. A very cool breed they are. Their skin is on the blue-ish side. Portuguese fishermen used to keep them on their boats, and they would be sent to swim between boats, bearing messages. Hence their name. Maybe their skins turned permanently blue from the cold water. ; > )

Elmer

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Jerry Rasmussen
Date: 13 Sep 06 - 10:07 PM

Of course, I DID hear Rapaire whispering to the person next to him. Sound REALLY carries at the Grand Canyon. Why, there are echoes still resounding that are over 100 years old.

Jerry

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Rapparee
Date: 13 Sep 06 - 10:01 PM

Doggone it, Jerry, you keep up bein' honest and you won't be able to be introduced as

Jerry Rasmussen -- Man of Miiiissssssssstryyyyyyy!

anymore!

Sure, I saw Jerry and Ruth. Also a whole lot of other people. They were all standing on the South Rim, looking up to me.

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Ebbie
Date: 13 Sep 06 - 09:40 PM

Jerry, there is a Portuguese Water Spaniel in Juneau, the first I have known. True to form he loves our frigid waters.

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Jerry Rasmussen
Date: 13 Sep 06 - 08:35 PM

Thanks for the ellucidation, Tootler. I enjoyed it, and you KNOW that Ray will.

And speaking of dog breeds, when was the last time you saw a Water Spaniel? I was probably eleven or twelve.

And in the 60's, the pooch du jour was the Miniature Schnowzer (or however it's spelled. And then Frazier was popular on TV, and Wishbone was a child's program doggie detective, everyone wanted a Jack Russell Terrier.

I always had mutts and loved them.

Here's a semi-autobiigraphical song I wrote about a dog who "followed me home" when I was a kid

WILLIE'S DOG

Willie found a dog, about half-grown
Poppa raised the devil when Willie brought him home
But Willie never paid his Poppa no mind
Told him that the dog just tagged along behind

Poopa told Willie, the dog's no good
Take him to the Pound, but Willie never would
'Cause Willie'd never had a dog of his own
And even though he tried, he couldn't leave the dog alone

So Willie kept the dog and he named him Fred
And he slept at night at the foot of Willie's bed
And early in the morning when Poppa was asleep
Willie and the dog would go swimming in the creek

Then Willie grew up and the dog grew lame
And the old man hobbled with a walking cane
And Willie found a wife and she calls him Bill
And the dog and the old man live together still

I didn't name my dog Fred, though. Although it's a perfectly good name for a dog.

Jerry

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Tootler
Date: 13 Sep 06 - 06:22 PM

Someone was still interested in trunk road.

I looked it up and here's what the shorter Oxford Dictionary has to say;

1. "Main body of tree opp. to roots and branches; human or animal's body without head & limbs & tail; main part of any structure"

2. (Also ~line) main line of railway, canal, telephone main line [...]

9. [...] ~road; main road."

The origins are Middle English from Old French "tronc" and Latin "truncus"

I reckon the use for main roads etc. has come out of the first meaning, especially the main body of a tree. A road system has parallels with a tree with main roads having minor roads branching off them.

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Elmer Fudd
Date: 13 Sep 06 - 06:15 PM

You don't see Bassett hounds much any more. Around where I live, the neighborhood is lousy with golden retrievers. They are a dime a dozen.

There used to be a guy who worked in a nearby hospital who walked his dog near my house every day after work. I don't know what breed she was, but she was medium-sized, black, and very furry. Her name was Flo-Jo. He told me that he had brought her to work the day he adopted her. She had somehow gotten loose on the ward. He and a couple of other nurses were trying to catch the puppy, but she was very fast, running in and out of patients' rooms, toenails pattering on the floor, and staying out of reach.

One patient, an elderly woman, called to him, "Honey, what's that dog's name?" He replied that he hadn't thought of a name yet. She said, "Well then, honey, you better name her Flo-Jo, because she sure runs fast!" He promised her he would, and he did.

Elmer

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: JennyO
Date: 13 Sep 06 - 02:06 PM

You mentioned poodles, Jerry. I had a strange experience with one once. I was standing on a little beach minding my own business, and I saw a small black poodle walking towards me. I assumed its intentions were friendly and waited for it to come up to me. So it just strolled up to me and bit my leg. Just like that. Weird!

Some years later I worked in the home of someone who had a miniature poodle, and it was the most neurotic little dog I had ever seen. Occasionally I had to take it to be groomed, and as soon as I put it in the car, it shivered and whined all the way there and back.

I've never had a dog - I'm more of a cat person - but if I did I think I would go for one of the larger breeds.

I haven't been in here much lately - I was at a folk festival last weekend, and I'm off to another one this Friday. In between I've been trying to get my new no-dig garden set up so I can plant my tomatoes (it's spring here in Oz). There never seem to be enough hours in the day! You're sounding pretty busy yourself! I might pop in for a coffee tomorrow, but it's off to bed now.

Jenny

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Ebbie
Date: 13 Sep 06 - 11:15 AM

Was that Columbus's logs?   


Funny you should mention bulldogs, Jerry. Just the other day I met a pitbull that was rescued (a colleague was leaving town and couldn't take the dog) by a young man who didn't want to keep her because he has two small children. At the same time, the dog is under a year old and seems very sweet, so he would like to find a home for her.

Forty years ago my generation worried about Doberman Pinschers. When I was a kid, it was bulldogs that alarmed my parents, because, they said, when a bulldog latches on you can't get it loose. Bulldogs were also reputed to be ferosious killers of other dogs, often suffocating them by grabbing them at the throat.

And now it's pitbulls.

I'm not immune to the fears- I love dogs but I look at certain breeds out of the corner of my eye. Even though I know that the breeds statisticly most likely to bite me are led by the American Cocker Spaniel!

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Jerry Rasmussen
Date: 13 Sep 06 - 10:53 AM

Met an English bulldog today. Not that he said "By, jove!" or anything. I was glad to meet him. With breeds of dogs, they can easily go extinct if they fall out of fashion. Dogs are bred to sell. If everyone agreed that they didn't ever want to buy a particular breed of dog, it would go extinct. Take poodles, for example. I'd vote yes on that one.

When I was a kid, bulldogs were a lot more common. There were three living in our block. I still have two scars in my lower lip that one of them gave me when he bit me. I tried to yell for help, but it's hard yelling with a bulldog attached to your lower lip. I liked bulldogs, though, and I enjoyed this one... just a pup dog, out for a walk with his owner on the river walk we take every morning. I think he was feeling kinda special, being nearly extinct, and all.

Jerry

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Jerry Rasmussen
Date: 13 Sep 06 - 07:47 AM

Hey, Ron: I figured you were off to the races again. To a great extent, I am, too. But not as busy as you.

Ron and Ebbie:

I was going to ask Rap if that was him wearing the blue gardenia, but they don't the Grand Canyon "Grand" for nothing. It's 230 something miles long, and many miles wide. Where we were standing on the West Rim, we could look across and see part of the North Rim. If King Kong was on top of the Empire State Building at the edge on the North Rim, we couldn't have seen him. Not only is the North Rim many, many miles away, it's 1,000 feet higher than the West Rim.

There's a wonderful book, out in reprint by Dover, titled The Eyes Of Discovery. It;s a collection of the earliest known written descriptions of America from logs of Christopher Columbus through Journals of the explorers, as they pushed westward. There is a terrific description of an early explorer (I'd have to check the book to get the details) coming upon the Grand Canyon with no concept of how large it is. He describes looking down at the Colorado River, and because he was disoriented by the scale of the canyon, though he could climb down to fill his canteen. That's the way I felt at times, standing on the edge of the canyon. We judge distances in comparison to objects we are familiar with... the road is a lot wider than that sotop sign, or a tree is taller than a house. Those visual comparison pale, standing on the edge of the canyon. At times, the canyon looked vast, but at the same time, it looked smaller than I expected. When I looked at the photographs we took, with someone standing in the foreground, the canyon looked far more vast than it did when I was looking across it, with nothing to give a sense of scale.

I'm surprised that they didn't name it the Purty Danged Big Canyon.

Jerry

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Ron Davies
Date: 12 Sep 06 - 11:02 PM

Gee, Jerry, I've been around--even asked about the origin of the term "trunk road" awhile back. But it seemed the conversation had gone on. Still interested in that question--I'm very interested in language.

But I also second Elmer's question-- did you and Rap actually see each other at the Grand Canyon?


Choral Arts has cranked up for the season--first concert will be the Beethoven Missa Solemnis. I think that's the one that turned up on both the favorite and least favorite lists of choristers--when asked by our director about pieces we liked or didn't like. As I recall, basses liked it but sopranos didn't--it pushed them way up in their voice range--and made them stay there--so a real killer to sing for them.

Meanwhile our arch-rival is having serious problems-- the director thought he was taking a sabatical--but it turns out his own board doesn't want him back as director. I was also in that group for 3 years--and he infuriated me beyond belief--which is why I left (about 20 years ago!). After that I was a choral gypsy--in lots of groups--until 1990. Now I've found my choral home. A conductor sets the tone of his group--and our conductor makes it an extended family (that gets along, too)--while the other conductor had a reign of terror (well that's a bit strong). I'll tell you the story if there's any interest. But I can easily believe he has alienated his own board.

Organized music, even choral singing--can have all sorts of undercurrents.

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Elmer Fudd
Date: 12 Sep 06 - 09:03 PM

Soooo, did y'all actually SEE each other?

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Rapparee
Date: 12 Sep 06 - 03:36 PM

Hey, Jerry! It was great seeing you and Ruth at the Grand Canyon!

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Jerry Rasmussen
Date: 12 Sep 06 - 01:04 PM

Just stopping by to put on a new pot of coffee. This must be September. Everything is up and running all at once, and I'm not even going to school. Last nioght I had Men's Chorus practice... a 45 minute drive each way. Tonight, We're having our first Gospel Messengers practice since last spring... another 45 minute drive each way. I was asked to make the same 45 minute drive tomorrow night, but declined because Thursday and Friday, Ruth's brother and sister-in-law are going to be here and there's too much preparation to do. lRuth has already been cooking up a storm, and I';ll start this afternoon, making a batch of healthy lasagna (for me and whoever wants to try it) and arterty clogging, fattening, high carbohydrate lasagna for the carefree. Saturday, I'm singing with the Men's Chorus at a special program where all the sick and shut-in members of our church are transported to the church for a service and a concert. Another 45 minute drive each way. Sunday, the Men's Chorus sings at 8 a.m. for another 45 mnute drive each way.

If I keep this up, I'll be as busy as Ron Davies. By the way, where you been hiding yuourself, Ron? We miss you at the table.

Jerry

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Jerry Rasmussen
Date: 10 Sep 06 - 09:43 PM

Oh, once I had a little doggerel.

I've been putting some stuff down on paper and was reminded by my Mother that when I was a little boy, maybe three or four years old, I'd head off down the sidewalk pulling my little red wagon singing at the top of my lungs:

"Hi ho, Hi ho, it's off to work I go
I paid my dues with a bottle of booze
Hi, Ho, Hi ho, Hi Ho Hi Ho"

Maybe Big Mick could use that one..

Jerry

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Elmer Fudd
Date: 10 Sep 06 - 08:07 PM

It sure does. In "Wait Til Next Year" the historian Doris Kearns Goodwin wrote a charming memoir about her childhood as a fan of "da bums," the Brooklyn Dodgers. In one part she describes asking Jackie Robinson to sign her autograph book. She hands it to him and first he leafs through it, reading all the inscriptions written by other children. You know the ones:

2 Good
+2 B
_______
4 gotten,

and the like He starts chuckling, signs it and gives it back to her. He wrote,

"May your smile
last a long while.
Jackie Robinson"

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Jerry Rasmussen
Date: 10 Sep 06 - 03:23 PM

Haven't read it Elmer... does it bleed Dodger blue?

Jerry

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Elmer Fudd
Date: 10 Sep 06 - 03:08 PM

Thanks for posting your thoughts, Donuel. They are beautifully stated.

Elmer

PS to Jerry: Wait 'till 1,200! Have you read "Wait Till Next Year" by Doris Kearns Goodwin? Need I ask?

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: GUEST
Date: 10 Sep 06 - 03:00 PM

Great thread

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Ebbie
Date: 10 Sep 06 - 12:36 AM

That was very funny, Little Hawk. lol

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Jerry Rasmussen
Date: 09 Sep 06 - 10:54 PM

And, how nice to see you drop by, Little Hawk. Don't be a stranger, or be like jimmy who only stops in at intervals of 100 :-)

Jerry

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Jerry Rasmussen
Date: 09 Sep 06 - 10:53 PM

Curses! Foiled again, Elmer!

You must be an old Brooklyn Dodger fan.

I'm still reflecting on what donuel wrote. The thread woven through all of his writing is that he maintained his love of this country, despite all the dissapointments and even betrayals he's gone through. I've been sharing some thoughts about my Father recently, and they've helped me to crystalize how love embraces it all, or it isn't truly love. I't sentimentality. Reminds me of some old sayings (if I can remember them accurately.) It also relates to another thread about telling the truth.

"Love without honesty is sentimentality
Honesty without love is cruelty"

When someone says, "I'm telling you for your own good," make a bee-line for the nearest door. Even a window will do. You know a compliment isn't coming. Probably not truth, either.

Jerry

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Elmer Fudd
Date: 09 Sep 06 - 10:47 PM

!@#$$%%^*&(&^$%!%&*(^%%$#@@#%^&!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Elmer

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Little Hawk
Date: 09 Sep 06 - 10:37 PM

Ehhhh....What's up, Doc?

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Elmer Fudd
Date: 09 Sep 06 - 10:36 PM

AHA! There's NO WAY you can escape this time! I missed ya at one thousand, but now, at eleven hundred, you're mine, alllll mine! Now just hold still a minute!

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Elmer Fudd
Date: 09 Sep 06 - 10:34 PM

Just hold still there a minute, Bugs Bunny, while I load up the old blunderbuss--I mean--get a nice vegetable patch ready for you and sweeeeeet little hutch to sleep in.

C'mon you wascally wabbit! Front and Center!

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Jerry Rasmussen
Date: 09 Sep 06 - 09:47 PM

Here, bunny, bunny. See the wovely cawwot I have for you..

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Elmer Fudd
Date: 09 Sep 06 - 08:53 PM

My fingers are starting to get itchy for that wabbit....

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Jerry Rasmussen
Date: 09 Sep 06 - 05:43 PM

Just beautiful, Donuel. And what a writer you are! Thank you so much for posting that. It is a feast for all of us.

Jerry

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Donuel
Date: 09 Sep 06 - 04:49 PM

I was sitting at the kitchen table and thought about how Norman Corwin might write about some thoughts I was having...

this was the result:


I love my country to the stars and back.
I was only six but what I knew made me love America to the bursting point.
What did I know? I knew fishing in the Ozarks, I knew my parents driving across our great country, I knew we won a war against monsters, I knew great movies like the 50 ft. woman, I knew singing this land is my land and we loved our land. I looked at the moon and Saturn through my uncle's telescope. The most exciting thing we watched was Sputnik. We felt proud that man made his first star in the heavens but some people seemed worried

When I was seven I heard fearful whispers about the unamericans and the Russians who might blow us up in a surprise atomic attack.
When I was seven I remember my parents argue if I should see the Nazi films of the Holocaust on TV.   I learned 40 years later the film had been edited by Alfred Hitchcock. I saw the skinny bodies bulldozed, I saw the naked ladies hiding themselves as they were rushed to a crater's edge.

I was nearly eight while learning old union songs, Al Jolson tunes and the mountainous deep canyon voice of Paul Robeson singing "You know who I am… America", and I loved my country. The whispers faded and in their place clear voices told me what our country did to some great men and women. My country was hurting people in this country I love so much. Eight year olds know all about things not being fair.
Things weren't fair for my river. It changed colors daily depending on what color they were dyeing shoes at Endicott Johnson shoe factory.

At eight I listened to the Civil War on 33 rpm records. The Sergeant yelled FIRE and the boom shook my bones over and over again. Lincoln said to me "A house divided against itself can not stand." Then on the other side he read the Gettysburg address to me. In class the practice for atomic attack was as much fun as it was scary. Then the last Civil war veteran died right before I turned 9. I love my country and those who sacrificed for America.

At nine I had my first big bike and I was feeling America inside and out. I wasn't just listening anymore I was talking about world peace while other kids said their dad trusts the brass. My dad told me about the working man and imperialism. I pretended to know what imperialism was but I love my country.

At ten eleven and twelve the forest, creeks and rivers were my paradise. Warren Fries showed me what was inside his grocery bag. It was a giant snowy white owl that he shot dead. I was so angry that the owl and its family were gone from our woods that I grabbed the owl from Warren then changed my mind and swore never to play together again. He was the first friend I saw cry when he understood exactly how mortal he was.

The Cuban Missile crises meant there could be a big bomb war any minute. I took a walk and heard TV's blaring the Beverly Hillbilly's. Somehow the war went away.
In math class we suddenly learned JFK was dead. We were all scared and sad but only a few wept out loud. Only the teacher Mr. Craft was grinning and pointed out how there is no hope when shot in the head. We were sad but we loved our country.

The world really started pushing back against words about peace and the waste of war. I was beaten half a dozen times in school. Twice I was sent to the hospital. Dad taught at the college so I could hear a seminar about China and how great they were growing. If I shared that at school there were self appointed football players who enforced their world view by breaking my nose in the locker room.

News that the USA topples governments and installs puppets was either denied or accepted as might makes right. Then the children of US slaves followed a non violent King in a movement for freedom that could have made some of our founding fathers proud. I was proud for these Americans. When I said so I was called a nigger lover and sometimes a Jewish cocksucker despite the fact I was neither.

Viet Nam was front and center with mounting body counts at dinner time. And I loved my country so much I tried to tell people that there must be a better way. A house divided against itself will not stand. Love it or leave it people shouted back at give peace a chance people. We both loved America. I can't tell you how many friends died or disappeared. Even the shoe factory was gone. They said it went to Taiwan.

The love it or leave it people were broken. Their house could not stand the loss of their sons. They were betrayed and some blamed the protestors and some knew they were deceived but could never say it out loud lest their children would somehow die in vain the moment the truth passed their lips. They were silent and they were the majority.

Free white and 21, I joined the 60's party and party I did. Finally a man, I found an occupation to heal people. I was close enough to 3 mile island that I felt the sickening nausea in my head the night before it was announced. America was feeling proud again when Reagan finally won a war. It wasn't the big bomb war but a little one that rhymed with grenade. The CIA had no clue when the USSR downsized but Reagan got the credit by running up ours.

The unmentionable pain faded as the parents died in pain. The Gulf war was being sold to a new crew but with talk radio cheer leaders. I know that in a perpetual war no one will die in vain. Now I knew about imperialism. My country never had colonies like some empires but we hired yes men called the Shaw or el Presidente'. We rarely if ever obeyed our treaties. We were ready to try new weapons, uranium weapons from our used up rods that powered our nuclear tea kettles. I cried over the poisons that I know our country is eating and breathing because I love my country.

Commie, pinko, love it or leave it, unpatriotic, traitor, Hitler lover and appeaser, I am still called names like I was in the high school locker room. But I still love my country enough to speak out when we make the mistake of giving our lives to a military machine run by corporations that own the Congress and media.

When 2 million of us fill the streets of our Capitol and we are still invisible to the media we must try harder. When we win elections but lose the count we must try to love our country harder.
When the words freedom zone stands for barbed wire pens we must break out. When we truly love our country we may just learn to love the world and the world us.

I dream that a new Lincoln will speak to this country with an intelligent clarity. I dream that we will all have something to unite us. That we can all stand for a republic to do business as well as a democracy to help our people live and love our land.

I have but one cup of cool water to spill on the beach but if enough of us fill our glasses and march to the shore we may even be able to cool an ocean. Cool the ideologues, cool the defense contractors in their own neighborhoods and cool a religious fever that needs to break before we return to health.

Yes I love my country to the stars and stripes and back. Even when we attack, like a mother who loves a son who has done wrong, I know how much good there is inside.


As always donuel
Don Hakman Rockville
MD

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Jerry Rasmussen
Date: 08 Sep 06 - 10:09 PM

Talking about memories and music, someone suggested I share this at the table:

I'm not sure where it was: somehwere in Connecticut, I think. I had just finished doing a concert when a young man came up to talk to me. I'd sung a song that I'd written about the two railroad lines that ran through my home town of Janesville, Wisconsin when I was a kid: The Chicago/Northwestern and the Milwaukee/St. Paul. There's a verse in the song that goes:

   "Fishing off the edge of the railroad bridge
    You can feel those steel rails humming
    Better put your bait and your bucket down
    'Cause the train will still be coming."

When the young man said, "I've fished off that bridge many times," I was all excited. I asked him, "Did you grow up in Janesville?" "No, I grew up in Colorado, but I fished off that same bridge." And he did. That same railroad bridge is in every small town in the United Sates. There's one right here in Derby, Connecticut where I live now. And there are Three Mile Cricks and open fields and front porches and folding chairs in every town. It's a matter of remembering that, and looking for them. They still hold the same, simple pleasures.

Jerry