Sitting At The Kitchen Table

Subject: RE: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Jerry Rasmussen
Date: 23 Sep 09 - 01:10 PM

Maybe I could invite Annette Funicello and Frankie Avalon. And the Beach boys couldn't help but come.

Jerry

Subject: RE: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: GUEST,BBP
Date: 23 Sep 09 - 11:35 AM

Peter, you got the jest in one!.

Subject: RE: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Waddon Pete
Date: 23 Sep 09 - 10:05 AM

Deidre,

What an excellent idea!

How about doing the sand dance.....OK.....I'll get me fez....


Best wishes,

Peter

Subject: RE: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: GUEST,BBP at work
Date: 23 Sep 09 - 09:54 AM

Jerry, that has just cheered me up no end!. Especially the bit about 7 cents - you've got as much redtape over that side of the pond as we have. Don't you just love 'em?.

How about throwing a Sand Party?. Invite all your (fit) musical friends, get each to fill and carry out front a couple of your hefty bags and then reward them with a song circle and a little light refreshment?.

In fact, if you were to sing around the sand you could call it a beach party!.

I'll go find my bucket and spade................

Deirdre

Subject: RE: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Jerry Rasmussen
Date: 22 Sep 09 - 06:56 PM

That sounds wonderful, Susan. Looks like Someone sent you a ram in a bush. Or several rams. And thanks for working on health care. I know it is frustrating, but it's greatly needed.

Subject: RE: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Susan A-R
Date: 22 Sep 09 - 06:50 PM

Just had three visiting Americorps young folk around my kitchen table last night and this morning (they brought them up for an 8 a.m. training, and didn't provide lodging or breakfast and these folks were going to camp in Vermont in September. What a nifty bunch of people, hungry to help (and for ham and eggs and bread pudding and whatever else was available) and one played mandolin like you wouldn't believe.

Iife is so full of surprises, people you never knew,who pop up at the right time to give you hope.

I'd just spent a few days in DC working on health care, and was in need of a dose of hope. Small trade for apple bread pudding and mattresses in the attic, I would say

Subject: RE: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Jerry Rasmussen
Date: 22 Sep 09 - 04:47 PM

Hey Maeve and Deirdre: How great to see you both. Actaully I've given some thought to getting someone to take the sand. Of course it has some value... just like the wonderful cast iron stove we've been trying to get rid of. My friend Frankie, from the Gospel Messengers wants the stove, but we've been waiting for him to get a truck and four men up here to move it. Maybe before Christmas. The problem with the sand is that the swimming pool was in the back of the house on a side that is not accessible to much more than a wheelbarrow. The previous owners built a deck on the back of the house, just three feet from a barberry hedge. There's just enough space to get through with a wheelbarrow, but nothing bigger. There are two sets of steps on the other wside of the house, so it's even less accessible. About the only way to get the sand out is a wheelbarrow at a time, or perhaps by helicopter. I have a wheelbarrow. Renting a helicopter is too expensive. But anyway, to finish my story...

I decided that it was too much pressure to try to lug a ton of sand by wheelbarrow in a day or two, by myself, so I opted to lug the sand to the dump. I bought the heaviest weight Hefty trash bags they make and started loading themj up with as much sand as they could carry (and I could lift.) I took the first load of seven bags to the dump a couple of days ago. Of course, there is a charge for dumping the sand and I had to have my car weighed, Before and After I dumped the sand to see how much the seven bags weighed. When I asked him how much I owed, he said 48 cents. That's based on a charge of $6 per ton. I had to alugh when he told me. As you might guess, this whole adventure has the makings of a chapter for my next book... an environmentally correct Alice's Restaurant story. There are two scriptural passages that come to mind:

"Verily I say unto you, if ye have faith as a grain of mustard seed, ye shall say unto this mountain, Remove hence to yonder place; and it shall remove; and nothing shall be impossible to you." It apparently works for mountains, but not swimming pools.

"Even so faith, it it hath not works, is dead."

The message? Get to work. And the title of the chapter is The Impossible just takes longer.

But it only costs 7 cents a bag.

Subject: RE: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: maeve
Date: 22 Sep 09 - 10:01 AM

Deidre has a good suggestion there. I wish you were in Maine, Jerry. I could use that sand, and I use concrete chunks in paving/building projects here on our little farm.

maeve

Subject: RE: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: GUEST,BBP dropping by
Date: 22 Sep 09 - 08:41 AM

Hi All,

Sorry I was gone so long - life seems to be chugging along at a cracking pace lately. Jerry - BE CAREFUL! A suggestion that may not be over helpful - do you have a Yahoo Freecycle group in your area?. I use one all the time in the UK. The idea is that it is a "giveaway" noticeboard: Jerry, you would say that you have a tonne of sand to give away, "buyer" collects. Someone near you is probably in need of sand and / or hardcore for their own building project. You could end up with someone coming and loading up their own lorry with it for you.

If you google "Yahoo Freecycle (your home town name)", you might just get some information!. Hope it helps.

Waddon Pete - I don't know when I'll next be in your neck of the woods but I won't forget to call in for some of Jerry's Java!.

I'd best get back to work - loads to do. :-)

Now, just time to make another cup of tea first..............

Deirdre

Subject: RE: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: maeve
Date: 22 Sep 09 - 08:29 AM

Enjoy your walk, Jerry. I'm just peeking in to see if there's an extra chair open for me. I'm coming out of the peace of the garden for a rare spot of public scrutiny of a song I made. It's a good-peculiar feeling so far.

Ah...maybe over there by the window is a place for me. There is fresh cornbread in the basket there. Help yourselves.

maeve

Subject: RE: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Jerry Rasmussen
Date: 22 Sep 09 - 08:10 AM

Continuing my swimming pool saga:

After I got the swimming pool down, cut up and hauled to the dump in my car (in too many trips to count) I was faced with getting rid of a ton of sand that formed the base of the pool, as well as the mountain of busted up concrete from the walkway and the underlying concrete rim. I talked to the guys at the dump, who've become as close as drinking buddies and asked for their advice. They said I could either bring it down a small car load at a time (not just filling the car with sand...) or I could rent a dumpster. They would set the dumpster down in my driveway and all I'd have to do is to transfer a ton of sand, a wheel barrow full at a time, piling it up in the dumpster. When I finished, I'd just have to call them up and they'd come and pick it up. A piece of cake. Never mind that the dumpster costs $250 to rent. The rental rate was reasonable, but difficult to swallow, but the hardest part was facing having to transfer a ton of sand a wheelbarrow at a time.

(I'm heading out for my morning walk... I'll finish this when I get back.)

Jerry

Subject: RE: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: frogprince
Date: 20 Sep 09 - 10:49 PM

The picture was from the "Cadillac Ranch" in Texas. Somebody started it quite a few years ago, and it actually draws quite a few tourists. Those are all Cadillacs.
                     Dean

Subject: RE: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Jerry Rasmussen
Date: 20 Sep 09 - 01:54 PM

Duh! And then I forget to paste the post. I'm taking it easy today. Apparently, a lot easier than I realized. Now THIS is the post haste.

I never mind a request. If I can do the song, I'm happy to do it, and if not, I tell people they'd be much happier if I didn't sing it. One noticeable exception occurred every time I played at a particular place. A woman would ask me to sing Ave Maria, and even though I'd tell her that I didn't know it well enough to sing it, she'd ask me a couple more times before I finished singing. The story?

Once a month, my wife and I visit a local nursing home where I provide the music for a short church service, led by my close friend Ken. Ken is the pastor of a church in the area and over the years we've had a great time sharing music together. When my Gospel Messngers quartet was still singing, we did Anniversary concerts at his church four different years, and I've done fund-raising concerts for the church on my own. Ken is a folkie (some friends of his are coming down from Maine next month, and he's invited Ruth and me over, along with some other friends, for a song swap. The audience at the church service at the nursing home has a wide range of physical and emotional problems. It became clear to me early on that the woman who continually requested Ave Maria was having severe emotional problems. She is Catholic and was very critical of me because I didn't sing hymns that she knew from her church. She had a nasty attitude about everything, and with everyone. Every time she'd request Ave Maria, no matter how many times, I was always polite to her, telling her what a beautiful song it is, but that I don't have the voice to do the song justice. Through time, she softened toward me and became quite sweet tempered. When she'd ask for the song, as she continued to do, one of the workers there would say in a kindly voice, "I'll play a recording of it for you after the service is over," and she'd relax. It was beautiful to see her calm down, over the months that she came. She went from visibly agitated and argumentative to peaceful, just enjoying the service for what it was.

Like the others we sing for, we know there will be a day when they no longer show up. That day arrived for her a year ago, but I still remember her. And I still don't do Ave Maria on request.

Subject: RE: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Waddon Pete
Date: 20 Sep 09 - 01:53 PM

Thanks Frog Prince.....what a great idea!

Low maintenance for sure!

LOL


Peter

Subject: RE: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Jerry Rasmussen
Date: 20 Sep 09 - 01:51 PM

What do they call that, Dean? Stonehinge?

I posted this on the "requests" thread but thought I'd stick it on here too. It's a sweet little story, and it's about music!

Subject: RE: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: frogprince
Date: 19 Sep 09 - 10:12 PM

Pete, maybe you should consider something like this

Subject: RE: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Waddon Pete
Date: 19 Sep 09 - 04:26 PM

Mmmm...Jerry's Java....just what I needed after a hard day visiting garden centres. A little like you Jerry, we are revamping the garden. Thankfully we have no concrete pool to dismantle, but there are some hard choices to make. Do we put it all down to long grass and rusted car relics or try and create a garden we can manage!

All suggestions grateful received. I'll just nurse my coffee and whistle "The garden where the praties grow".

Best wishes,

Peter

Subject: RE: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Jerry Rasmussen
Date: 16 Sep 09 - 11:39 AM

Yesterday my son-in-law Pasha and I busted up the concrete walkway around my former-above-ground swimming pool. We rented a jackhammer and started busting up the concrete shortly after nine in the morning. It was hard work, and we alternated on the jackhammer, the person who was taking a "rest" loading the broken sections of concrete into a wheel barrow and dumping it on the side of our property, creating a new mountain. It took about an hour and a half to bust up the sidewalk. Along the way we discovered that there was a solid wall of concrete underneath the sidewalk that went down more than a foot, and then was resting on a concrete footing, the edges of which we couldn't even find. Connecticut Stonehenge. I knew that if I wanted to have a lawn, the top of the conrete wall would have to come off. The wall was in a circle, larger than the swimming pool, so we knew we had out work cut out for us. Chipping the top off a solid wall was much harder than busting up the sidewalk (which was an unneccessary 5" thick to begin with. Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do, so we attacked the wall. The whole job took five hours, without taking a break. Now I've got to get all the concrete and a ton of sand to the dump. Not today, though.

To make it harder, Pasha is Muslim and he is observing Ramadan for 30 days. He is not allowed to eat or drink, even water, while the sun is up, so he has to finish breakfast before sunrise and can't eat until the sun sets. And no water, even though we were working in the sun for five hours. Pasha is 60, abd he's reaching an age where he feels the effects of working on an jackhammer and loading concrete into a wheel barrow. While we were working, I was thinking of the affluent white kids, down from Connecticut, back in the 60's. They'd arrive in Greenwich Village and sing convict work songs they'd learned from chain gang recordings. They'd sing the appropriate "Whupp" where you let out a grunt, swinging the nine pound hammer, appropriately plucking the bass string on their guitar with a little more force. Pasha and I weren't singing "It takes a rocks and a gravel to make solid road," and nary a single "Lordy" was uttered. But we got the job done.

When I woke up this morning I expected to be full of newly discovered aches and pains. To my surprise, I felt better than I have in months. I guess all that work loosened up the old muscles and stretchewd me out. If you want to try it, I still have a ton of sand and a mountain of busted-up concrete to take to the dump. No charge for the excercise.

Subject: RE: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: SINSULL
Date: 14 Sep 09 - 08:06 AM

"If a house was a living organism, the kitchen table would be the heart."

Just had a wonderful evening of talking, joking, poetry recitals, just plain sharing and then came across this thread. There is no "If". A house lives. I know a few that are alive with happiness, music, children growing, people coming and going and living and dying. I know some that are dark with anger and frustration, no room for joy or friendship. It would take so little to brighten them - just an inviting cup of hot coffee or tea and a friendly chat.

Subject: RE: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Waddon Pete
Date: 14 Sep 09 - 06:16 AM

Hello Jerry,

I'm sure the song is still there, somewhere in the sub-conscious! It's a funny thing, song, poetry or word recall. The other day some friends and I were singing and, it's funny how these things come up, some-one said, "Isn't there a song about woad?" Straightway I launched into the song and it all came out pat. Now I hadn't sung the song for at least 30 years....but there it was! The ol' brain had found it in the filing system and presented it for all to hear.

I guess the same will happen for you. Just don't try and remember it! A chance remark will trigger it for sure.

There was an above ground trainer pool one place I worked. It was made of very strong rubberized material. The only way to empty it was to let the water go by lowering one side. Most amusing to watch, but very difficult to achieve with dry feet!

Best wishes,

Peter

Subject: RE: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Jerry Rasmussen
Date: 13 Sep 09 - 07:41 PM

Wow, Dean... Get Down Home. I'm not sure I know that song anymore. Funny how the years slip by. It gets bad when you say, "This is a song I learned from me."

Guess I'd better get down home...

Jerry

Subject: RE: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: frogprince
Date: 13 Sep 09 - 07:13 PM

Hey, Fellers (and any gals who happen by); finally, finally, I just got to hear Jerry sing. I've heard Art Theime sing Handfull of Songs, and somebody else singing Living on the River, but not Jerry. About 3/4 hour ago, Matt Watroba played "Get Back Home"; Matt always identifies what he plays, but usually after the fact; kinda wish he had called this one before playing, so I could have been a little better set to absorb it. Good stuff, though.
                            Dean

Subject: RE: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Jerry Rasmussen
Date: 13 Sep 09 - 04:49 PM

LOL Formerly known as Prince. The swimmjing pool was here when we bought the house. We never would have put on up. Especially on top of the trees. I was nervous that the pool was old and didn't like the idea of 4 feet of water suddenly bursting through an old seam and flooding our basement. The swimming pool was about six feet from the window outside my office where I'm typing this post.

MAN DROWNS ON MUDCAT!

Turns out me fears were justified. When I took the sides down, the metal rim thyat held the bottom together was so rotted in some places that I could crumple the metal with my hands.

I grew up in Wisconsin and I see a fair number of above ground pools when I go home to visit my family. Of course, that's southern Wisconsin. In northern wisconsin, you'd just have a 30 foot diametet ice cube all winter.

Subject: RE: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: frogprince
Date: 13 Sep 09 - 03:26 PM

Who the heck would build a swimming pool thirty feet above ground?

I don't think anyone near here (Michigan) has built an in-ground pool for years; a number of neighbors did years ago, and wound up filling them in. Not usable enough of the year to be worth the upkeep. We have a decent little lake beach in a park just a few minutes away, and it's just six bucks for an old-coot sticker for the season.

Subject: RE: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Waddon Pete
Date: 13 Sep 09 - 03:07 PM

....and continued it was!

If I'd known you were cleaning out the pool I'd have been there to help!

:0)

...well...virtually, of course!

Best wises,

Peter

Subject: RE: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Jerry Rasmussen
Date: 12 Sep 09 - 06:39 PM

Sleeping in a hammock? Don't I wish. I just finished emptying the 30 foot above ground swimming pool that came with our house, mucking out, tearing down and hauling it to the dump in countless carloads. I've missed the conversation around the kitchen table, so I'm glad you stopped by, Peter. One man conversations can get you committed.

The coffee is always on and now that it's starting to cool off a little, I'll be back to baking.

My friend Roy Harris is coming over and I'll see him at the memorial for Sandy Paton. He's been invited to sit at our kithen table up here on Hillcrest Avenue. Don't know if he'll have the time to make it.

Jerry

Subject: RE: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Waddon Pete
Date: 12 Sep 09 - 03:31 PM

Park the car by the kerb. Walk up the driveway. Question. Do we knock on the door and wait, go round the back to see if Jerry's in the garden, or use the key that's cunningly hidden underneath that flowerpot? We'll go round the back first. Shhh...there he is, look! Fast asleep in his hammock! I'll bet he's dreaming of all those sweets he told us about!

Shall we help ourselves to coffee or gently wake him up and let him brew a pot of "Jerry's Java"?

....to be continued!

Subject: RE: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Jerry Rasmussen
Date: 27 Aug 09 - 12:01 PM

I wrote this a few years ago, remembering the corner store in my neighborhood when I was growing up. The brand names would be very different in the UK, but the store may seem familiar, anyway.

The Neighborhood: Simonsen's Grocery

Heading toward town from our house, the first landmark you'd come to was Simonsen's grocery, which was on the corner, a block away. It was a rare day when I didn't go down to Simonsen's for one reason or another. For starters, we didn't have a car and in the 40's there was no such thing as a supermarket, anyway. That meant that if we couldn't grow it, and my Dad didn't shoot it or catch it, most likely it came from Simonsen's.

For a small store, it seemed like Simonsen's had every thing you could imagine. At the front of the store, presiding over the cash register and the candy counter, was Ethel of the flaming red hair and stout figure. If you needed some gas, Ethel would go out the front door to the pumps and fill your tank with Ethyl gasoline. When my Mother would send me down to the store with a list of groceries and other household items, I'd dutifully hand it to Ethel and she'd wander through the store, picking up each item off the shelves, carrying them to the front counter. It was only in later years that I discovered modern grocery stores where you could actually take the items of the shelf, yourself.

Standing behind the meat counter in the back of the store was the butcher, Hal Simonsen. Hal's brother Willard owned the store, but it's Hal I remember best. He'd grind beef for you, or cut as many pork chops or steaks as you wanted, rolling off a huge piece of white waxed paper to wrap the meat in. When he wrapped the meat it had "hospital corners" a nurse would have been proud of. Hal wrote a weekly column in the Janesville Gazette titled "Hal Predicts." Hal wasn't much of a prognosticator, but he was always positive: "The Blue Jays (our high school team) will beat Beloit (our greatest rival) this weekend."

Attached to the rear of the store was a storage shed with a sliding garage door that was never locked. We'd slide the door open a crack and peak into the dark looking for treasures that slowly took form in the shadows. Hal would put the used peach and orange crates in the shed, knowing he'd never have to take them to the dump. The crates were our building blocks for all sorts of wonderful inventions. If you were lucky enough to spot a newly discarded crate, Hal would gladly give you permission to take it. It never occurred to us to take it without asking. Peach crates made wonderful scooters when mounted upright on a two by four wit old roller skates nailed on the bottom. Orange crates were slatted and didn't hold much of anything but oranges, but the soft pine slats would be used to build just about anything you could imagine. Ben Schultz, who lived across the street and ran a local delivery service made me a ladder nailed together from the ends of orange crates.

But for all the attractions of Simonsen's, nothing could equal the candy counter in the front of the store. It seemed like there was an endless variety of treats to suit everyone's taste. Just remembering the candy, there was root beer barrels, chocolate babies, snaps (a penny box of licorice tubes covered with white or pink coating,) Chum Gum (a penny pack of four-not-five sticks of gum that lost its flavor immediately and was so tough it made your jaws ache,) BB bats for a penny, Mason Dots, Black Crows, Ju-Jubes (purchased only in desperation or at a weak moment of indecision,) Heath Bars (Candy bars for grown-ups not considered sweet or chewy enough,) Cracker Jacks (with metal prizes,) marshmallow ice cream cones, Black Jack gum (licorice flavored and usually considered for adults,) Sugar Daddys (caramel suckers with snappy sayings printed on the wooden stick,) candy buttons on a paper strip, Switzer licorice, Mars bars, 3 Musketeers, Milky Way, Zagnut bars, Lifesavers, pastel soft candy (like thick frosting) in thin metal, shallow miniature pie tins that you ate with a small, flat wooden spoon, Jaw Breakers, Jujy Fruits, Forever Yours, Bazooka bubble gum (which included the lamest jokes ever invented, in Bazooka Joe comic strips,) A long stick of bubble gum with inches measured on the side, and the crowning glory of the whole counter, candy Boston Baked Beans in a jar where you took penny servings measured with a small bean pot: whoever bought the last of the candy (according to legend) got to keep the pot. I never even met a kid who knew someone who'd gotten the little pot. And that's just what I remember.

"And for a dime at the corner store, a kid could eat his fill."

On a hot Summer's afternoon, the kids would come slamming through the front door, all hot and sweat from a game of baseball at the Old Adam's School playground across the street. They'd make a bee line past the candy counter, looking for something cold. And there were a lot of choices. "Pop" came in a myriad of flavors and bottle shapes and sizes. Pepsi and Coca Cola vied for loyalties even back then, but the winner was more often that not Royal Crown Cola because the bottle was about twice the size. Loyalties also were tested with a choice of Hire's Root Beer or Dad's Old Fashioned Root Beer. Squirt gave 7-Up a good run, and both Nehi and Birely's had orange and grape soda. The Birely's came in low, squat, fat bottles with a wide mouth and their caps were a requirement in any bottle cap collection worth mentioning. Dr. Pepper was there for connoisseurs: a more recent addition.

Ice cream came in an equally bewildering array of shapes. The ice cream cones were 5 cents a scoop. Shurtleff's, the local dairy, manufactured dixe cups, which were another favorite because underneath a layed of wax paper of the inside of the lid would be a photograph of a current movie star or starlet or, much neater, a photograph of army tanks, planes or ships in battle. Cho-Chos were a local product made of malted milk flavored chocolate ice cream on a stick. You rolled the cardboard cup between your hands to melt the ice cream just enough to slide it out of the cup.

Popsicles were five cents and came in the usual flavors, except for a brief, disastrous attempt to introduce licorice when I was in High School. We salted the root beer popsicles when we ate them. The wrappers were saved for gifts. Every once in awhile we'd go on a binge, picking up every dirty, sticky, ant infested discarded wrapper within a block of Simonsen's until we had enough to send away from something. At the time, it never occurred to me what a nasty job somebody had opening up those envelopes stuffed full of old wrappers. Dreamsicles were considered something special, They were orange filled with vanilla ice cream in the center. They never lasted long when a new batch came in. Popsicle sticks were wooden and could be woven into small rafts to float down the gutters in the street when it rained, or held between your thumb and second finger and shot through the air with a menacing whirrrr. We had many a battle shooting each other with those sticks, and if you got hit by one, you knew it. No one would have been caught dead making all the cute craft items they get kids to make these days from a bag of sticks you buy!

Jerry

Subject: RE: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Jerry Rasmussen
Date: 24 Aug 09 - 06:46 AM

Late last week, I dropped by Walmart to pick something up and got in the line where my friend was working. Conversations are always short, because the management frowns on extended chatting with customers, so I'd only been talking with her for a minute, catching up on what we'd been up to. Nothing exciting. She'd gone to see her grandchildren for a special day at their summer camp and was exhausted, and I'd spent the last week and a half cutting a 60 foot long hedge that was as high as 12 feet in some areas down to a more manageable 5 feet. The temperature was in the low 90's, with high humidity and we, like everyone else, were feeling wilted.

While she was cashing out my purchase, someone reached over from behind me and touched my shoulder. I turned around, and there was Gail, my dental hygenist, and her husband John. Gail is another one, like my check-out clerk friend. The main difference is that it's even more limiting carrying on a conversation with someone, with a hose in your mouth and them working on your teeth. But she's a real gem of a person, and we invited her and her husband over for a Gospel Messengers practice two or three years ago and they're still talking about it. That's the only time I met John, so I didn't recognize him, but they both were very appreciative that I'd given them a copy of a DVD of a concert I did for public television many years ago. They really love my book, too and Gail always asks about my music and writing when I go for an appointment.

I introduced my check-out clerk friend to them, and told her how I knew them, and I introduced her as the check-out clerk in my book. It was funny and sweet... like they were meeting a celebrity, and my friend smiled broadly. After I'd paid for my purchase and was walking away, I could see that the three of them were engaged in a lively conversation with a lot of laughter.

Life is very good. Give me the simple life.

Jerry

Subject: RE: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: GUEST,astro
Date: 24 Aug 09 - 01:03 AM

Well, Jerry I recently realized that I would no longer do physics research but instead just get to the point of doing my teaching and spend the time instead learning and practicing my mandolin. I am very fortunate to have nice mandolins and am new at it.

I have a marvelous mate, Desert Dancer, who supports my musical goals and so am very lucky. I, frankly, am at great peace with it (especially at the ripe old age of 57).

I look at the time to pass onto my students ideas about life (along with physics and astronomy) and to be there to aid them. It is to me a wonderful thing to be able to maybe be that one prof that they remember. Life is sometimes not happy, but it is joyful.

Astro getting ready to bed down for the night...so off to home and to bed...

btw, I enjoyed you chapter above...sounds like a good book to curl up in bed with...I do like to do that!

Subject: RE: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Jerry Rasmussen
Date: 20 Aug 09 - 11:30 AM

I understand what you're saying, astro. I majored in geology in college, with paleontology as my specialty. I found the introductory courses fascinating enough that I went on to get a Master's Degree. At my major professor's strong encouragement, I went to Columbia University to work on my Doctorate. My major professor there wanted me to do my doctoral thesis on a genus of fossil snail. The snail is smooth and spherical, with very little defining characteristics, so the taxonomy for it had become very confused over the years. How can you tell one smooth sphere from another. If I had consented to the research I could have spent the rest of my life making careful measurements of those little spheres and entering the data into a computer. Eventually, I'd be able to go back to older studies and collections and if lucky, would have the taxonomy straightened out before I died of old age or boredom, whichever came first. The sales pitch was that I'd be the world expert on this particular genus of fossil snail. As my sons would have said, if they existed in those days, "Big Whoop!" I don't know if it occurred to my major professor that there was a reason why no one had take on such an exhaustive research project as a lifetime careet. They hadn't found anyone stupid enough yet.

I politely, "Thanks, but no thanks. I'd hate to deprive someone else of this wonderful opportunity."

Snails are beautiful, like all life forms. I didn't want to become blind to the beauty.

Jerry

Subject: RE: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: GUEST,astro
Date: 20 Aug 09 - 11:17 AM

Jerry,

Mind if I stop in...take my shoes off for a moment...nothing like comfort...the pot hot?

I had a friend who was a professional astronomer who eventually gave it up so that he could enjoy the sky again. He became a power amateur astronomer and a professional computer person. When you are a researcher in astronomy there is no time to enjoy the sky. My ex-wife who has her Ph.D in music composition, a composer of beautiful music, couldn't just relax and listen to music, she was always analyzing it. Knowing something too well is great but sometimes can be a detriment.

Well, must get home and pack my clothes...off to Tucson today to see my sweet wife...play some music with her! Let me get the cup in the sink and shoes back on...see you later!

astro...now where are my keys...?

Subject: RE: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Jerry Rasmussen
Date: 20 Aug 09 - 07:30 AM

This is the section in the chapter in my book titled The Cosmos and The Check-out Clerk:

        It was on a night many years ago when I was out visiting my family in Wisconsin. My parents had gone to bed and I was feeling restless. There not being a whole lot to do in town, I drove out into the country. In the years that had passed since I'd left the Midwest I'd come to appreciate the sky. In New England, our view is often obscured by mountains and forests and I found that I missed the open vistas of the prairies. As I was driving along, I began to see faint ribbons of colored lights gently flowing across the evening sky. I pulled my car over to the shoulder of the road and stepped out. There was nothing around me but open fields illuminated by the brightest display of the Northern Lights that I'd ever seen. Many years before, I'd sat in the observation dome of an old world war II bomber flying over the Arctic ocean, watching the Northern Lights up close, but nothing compared to that night. As I stood there silently watching the ever-shifting ribbons of color, I felt like I was standing on holy ground. I marveled at the glory of God that was revealed in the prairie sky.
        When I drove back to my parent's house, I saw my nephew Mike standing in the street. At the time, he was staying next door to my parent's house. Even though the tree-lined street partially obscured the view, he was standing there marveling at the sky. He had been driving through the country at the same time I was and like me, he had pulled over to watch the display of light. We stood there together for a few minutes lost in thought before wishing each other a good night and heading inside.

And while I'm at it, this is the section about the Check-out Clerk. It relates to a different kind of friend.

It seems like every time I shop in the store she's working at the check-out counter. No matter how tired she may be, she always has a smile on her face as she greets the customers approaching her register. The backbone of a store isn't the manager, as some might lead you to believe. It is the person who waits on you. Christ recognized the importance of service, and any job that is done out of a love for the Lord can be a ministry.
And whosever will be chief among you, let him be your servant: Even as the Son of man came not to be ministered unto, but to minister, and to give his life a ransom for many. (Matthew 20:27-28)
        Standing there in line the other day I watched as a frail, elderly woman slowly placed her few items on the conveyor belt. She appeared to be lost in thought, her mind far away. When the woman at the register saw the woman, she broke into a warm smile and asked her how she was doing. As the woman reached across the counter to take her small packages, they spoke briefly to each other, the check-out clerk expressing her sympathy to the woman at the loss of her husband. It was only a brief moment in time, but I believe it meant a lot to the elderly woman just to know someone cared about her.
        When Christ chose his apostles, he didn't select people who were held in the highest esteem. Peter, Andrew, James, and John were simple fishermen. If Jesus came back today and chose apostles, he would look into people's hearts to see the love of his father dwelling there. He would not be impressed with titles. He might well call a check-out clerk. You know he'd choose some women. He is still calling us to follow him.

Jerry

Subject: RE: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Jerry Rasmussen
Date: 20 Aug 09 - 07:20 AM

I taught astronomy for several years at the museum where I worked. It never stopped me from marveling at the sky. Our house is the last house on the highest end of Hillcrest Street in a small town. There' next to no ambient light bleeding into the sky from "downtown" so the sky is always brilliant. We can sit at the table in our "Great Room (which functions as our kitchen table) with the drapes open and see the sky. We've had some memorable occasions sitting there, including watching a total eclipse of the moon... one of the many pleasures of our "kitchen" table.

I'm heading out for awhile, but I'll take a break later and write about Crossroad Friends.

Oh yeah, the last chapter in my book has a section about watching the Northern Lights. I'l cut and past it in here, too.

Jerry

Subject: RE: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Waddon Pete
Date: 20 Aug 09 - 05:42 AM

Friendship is a great topic of conversation. I reckon the great test of friendship is when you meet up again after too long and pick up just where you left off, as if you'd last seen each other yesterday.

Happened to me a year or two back. Walked into a pub, quite by chance and noticed a handbill on the bar advertising a monthly folk night. Never did much about it until I found out it was being run by some-one I'd known at a folk club when I was knee high to a gnat. Phoned him up and spent at least an hour on the phone. Showed up at the folk night and it was like we'd only seen each other last Tuesday. Magic.

Songs can be great friends too. There's one particular song I sing that has a great rhythm for walking home to. Whenever I sing it, there in the background are all the times I trudged, bounced or just plain walked homeward. There is another song that can only, really, be sung when you are walking along the coast. Difficult to arrange in an open mic!

Pass the cookies please Jerry.....oh no! They've almost gone!

Best wishes,

Peter

Subject: RE: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: GUEST,astro
Date: 20 Aug 09 - 02:47 AM

Jerry,

I know what you mean about friends...I have had some similar experiences that put me to wondering...I have figured that it is sometimes a dang hard world out there and it amazes me when old friends just let the friendship pass away. It's hard to find those good friends and I never forget the value of them, yet some do. I wonder if it has been so easy for them that they don't see the diamonds around them and won't bother picking them up.

I decided long ago, that if a friend calls for me then I'm there...no cost to them. If some chose not the same for them towards me, then they have lost and that's a shame.

I had a great time just the other day at McCabes just talking to their luthier, Doug. He had placed a new tail piece on my Givens Mandolin and I was there to pick it up. He was busy and there were many folks there wanting things done, but he just politely asked if they'd mind to wait a moment and he came over and spent time just shooting the breeze about family, music, instruments and life...a moment of just being friendly...a nice time for me here in old LA.

Times like that just makes you quiet down a little bit in this busy life and just breathe...I tell my students about going out at night and observing the sky...it is wonderful and it makes you just stop and live. The breeze across your cheek, the quiet birdsong in the air, wonderful sights in the sky, and sweet company to share it with, this is what life should be like...

It is nice to sit here awhile and just chat, now I better put my shoes back on and go home...let your missus get some time without company...

astro strolling back out into the night...ahh, there is the last stars of summer....there's Jupiter...

Subject: RE: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Jerry Rasmussen
Date: 19 Aug 09 - 09:34 PM

What a wonderful time you had, Ranger1. Sometimes the best times are the least anticipated. By all means, see if you can get the whole day off next year.

Subject: RE: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: gnu
Date: 19 Aug 09 - 09:28 PM

r1... awwww.... that is so heartwarming!

Subject: RE: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Jerry Rasmussen
Date: 19 Aug 09 - 09:08 PM

Back to you, Astro:

Getting in touch with old friends is a fascinating, unpredictable activity. I've got some years on you, so getting in touch with my old college roomies or high school friends is more like a Twilight Zone episode. My experiences fall into three groups of old friends:
   1. After the "Remember whens," you have nothing to talk about.
      That may be fine. It's good to remember where we came from,
      and reviving old memories sometimes gives us new insights.
   2. Friends who really have no interest in who you are, or were.
   3. Friends who turn out to be much deeper friends then they were
      when you first new them.
      
I've had all three experiences. When I've gone home to southern Wisconsin and have performed in my home town, I occasionally have someone show up he stops by to talk after the concert. There's a fair amount of shuffling of feet, and once we get past the, "So what are you up to these days?" updates, we realize that we have nothing
to talk about. As I say, that's o.k. Most friends are of a time and place, and that doesn't diminish the value of the friendship.

I've also had a friend who was one of my closest in high school and college who was insulting and downright contemptuous of me when I re-established contact with him. So be it. It was worth the try. I've had other friends who have been reasonably talkative over the phone when I've tracked them down, and never communicated again, answered my letters or e-mails, or acknowledged receiving gifts I've sent them.

One of my closest friends these days was a good friend in high school, who I've only seen twice since 1953. He was never a correspondent and moved across the country, so the friendship survived (barely) on Christmas cards. Thanks to the internet, we've come to know each other all over, on a very different level. There is precious little "Remember whens" going on because we are both very different people than we were as teenagers and we're far more insterested in sharing what's going on in our lives (and more importantly) sharing our faith and our perceptions on the world around us. Sharing anecdotes or old memories wears thin for me very quickly. I enjoy it, short term, but it won't sustain an old friendship for long.

All good stuff though. Even the bad stuff has its merit.

Jerry

Subject: RE: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: ranger1
Date: 16 Aug 09 - 11:53 PM

Hey all. Just got back from a get-together with the cousins I hadn't seen much of until my dad passed away last year. I found out that one of my cousins plays a gig about 30 minutes from my house every year and I never knew about it! Went to her concert last night and was told that they do a day-long "bash" at another cousin's house the day after the concert and could I please come? I had to beg, but my boss let me out early and I had a lovely afternoon. Sitting around in Nan's backyard with good people, good food and good music. The songs ranged from hymns and gospel to Johnny Faw ballads to Patsy Cline. And I had to promise before I left that I'd make sure to have the whole day off next year.

I'm still walking on air!

Subject: RE: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Jerry Rasmussen
Date: 14 Aug 09 - 07:46 PM

Hey, Astro: Thanks for stopping by. We don't put too much stock in table manners.

Couple things. This morning, Ruth and I went for our walk along the river and I cracked up (mje, not the car.) I saw a couple getting out of their car and taking out a stroller and a papoose style baby carier that she slung across her chest. I figured they were taking care of their grandkids as they looked more our age. Then I noticed that the man was holding something in his hand. All I could see was a dog's head with a leash on it. Sounds like something out of a Stephen King movie. It was hard to imagine a dog body hidden behind the man's hand and forearm. But there was. The big dog was a long-haried chihuahwa. As they approached us, I could see that the woman wasn't wearing a baby carrier. It had a mesh window in the front and the little dog, which was a silky toy terrier, was staring out through the window, menacingly. Turns out he has a nasty temperament. She had to keep an eye on him. If he got away, he might attack you, leaping up and biting your ankle. wooooooo. The long-haired chihuawha was very friendly. When you're that little, it's wise not to have an attitude. The stroller was for the Chiwahwah for when his wittle wegs got too wored out. The couple told us that they didn't have any children or grandchildren, so they had the dogs. I asked them if they'd named the George and Mary Lou, but they had grandeloquent names longer than their legs.

We stopped for a minute to talk with my long lost friend Colagero, who I wrote about in a chapter in my book. I hadn't seen him in several months. He talked excitedly in broken, unfixable English and I got the gist of his conversation. We caught up with the proud grandparents and the Toy Terrier with jaws of steel was back glowering out of the mesh windwow and the Chiwhawha had stopped to smell a fence post, catching up on the latest news.

Jerry

Subject: RE: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Waddon Pete
Date: 14 Aug 09 - 04:40 PM

Thanks for dropping by Astro. Sorry about the coffee. Vanish should get the stain out!!!

It's always good to get in touch with old friends, and, sometimes, old enemies too!

Best wishes,

Peter

Subject: RE: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: GUEST,astro
Date: 13 Aug 09 - 10:46 PM

Oops. Dear, sorry about missin the cup with the coffee...it just about got to my lips! Hope it didn't burn much! astro

Subject: RE: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: GUEST,astro
Date: 13 Aug 09 - 10:44 PM

Jerry,
I haven't heard all of the conversation yet, only the first screen here, but it reminded me that I was thinking about an old roommate, Rod
Rudolph, probably the nicest, kindest person that I can think of. I hadn't talked to him for years and thought that I would search him out. So, after tinkering around I found him in Idaho and got the number, so called him up from here in Los Angeles wondering if he would remember me after so many years. The phone rang, a woman answered (how was Rod's wife) and I said, "I don't know if Rod is there or if he would remember a Michael from long ago"...I couldn't get another word in as she burst in and said Michael Frey!!! We have so many stories of that time long ago...needless to say, we had a great reunion and some tears of the times gone and the times missed, but above all it was a time of coming back together...there is nothing like old friends! Parden me, while I reach over for some of Desert Dancers blueberry pancakes, Dear, pass me the syrup!...astro

Subject: RE: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Jerry Rasmussen
Date: 11 Aug 09 - 07:20 PM

I'm heading out the door right now to pick another batch of berries for an ice cream sundae. Plenty left for all around the table. Get over here before the ice cream melts.

Subject: RE: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: BusyBee Paul
Date: 11 Aug 09 - 06:50 PM

Oh, and Pete, the wedding is in your neck of the woods - at Thurston near Bury St Edmunds.

Deirdre

Subject: RE: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: BusyBee Paul
Date: 11 Aug 09 - 06:45 PM

Hi Guys,

Jerry - my Dad loved to wear trousers with turn ups - only problem was that his legs were quite short so everytime he bought new ones, guess who had to do the alterations?!

I'm on holiday from work this week and have my Mum staying with me. We're off to my niece's wedding on Friday which will be the first time that that part of the family will have all been together for years. Jerry - my sister Sheila is en route to the UK as I type - it's her daughter who is getting married.

After the wedding on Friday, I'm spending the weekend with a cousin I haven't seen for a couple of years. Not quite on a par with your family get together, Jerry, but it'll do for me :-)

Pete, I hope you don't suffer from hayfever from the combining or plagues of flies!.

Deirdre

Subject: RE: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Waddon Pete
Date: 11 Aug 09 - 04:50 PM

MMmmmm I love the smell of freshly polished furniture!

Jerry, sounds like you all had a ball and did some serious catching up!

Life in our neck of the woods is good too. The combines are working their way up and down the fields nearby, the swallows and swifts are hawking after minuscule flies and we saw a green woodpecker today when we were out for a walk.

Tomorrow is our local session. I only have to hop over the fence to be there! (Metaphorically of course! Otherwise there would be a tangle of arms, legs, fence and bush to contend with). Last week was our chance to sing Sandy home with a rousing chorus. We did him proud.

Now, are there any of those black raspberries left?

Best wishes,

Peter

Subject: RE: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Jerry Rasmussen
Date: 11 Aug 09 - 03:37 PM

This table is in serious need of dusting. These last few weeks, Ruth and I have been working like fiends trying to do some major work on our house and property in preparation for Ruth's side of our family's 20th family reunion. You wouldn't think it would take a month to get ready for a lunchtime visit... or that we'd only get one-third of what we wset out to do accomplished. This year we had the reunion in Mystic, Connecticut, which is just an hour's drive from our house. It's been all over the country (and once, in Hawaii,) so you might think this would be easier for us. nuh-uh. We were more the hosts than the guests this time around. All the hard work was worth it. Last Thursday, eight family members stopped by for lunch and a leisurely afternoon of enjoying each other's company.
My grandnephew Bakari, who is eight, came reacing across the floor and leapt into the air, clamping his arms and legs around me about half way up my body. I could see we were going to have a lot of fun. I gave him a disc shooter that projects a spinning propeller into the air and we spent a half an hour devising different games with ever-changing rules (usually to Bakari's advantage.) Our nexr dooor neighbor George saw us playing on the side of our house and contributed a couple of balls to toss around. It took about a minute for Bakari to toss it so far over my head that it sailed into Georg'es back yard. We have a prickly hedge between our yards, so it meant walking around the block to get the ball. On the way back, Bakari challenged me to a race. A 74 year old and a geared-up 8 year old? Care to place your bets who won? I don't think I've ran in twenty years and it was a weird experience... like driving a car with no steering wheel. I mean, I didn't actually crash into a tree, but I was using muscles long since gone to sleep. We ended up playing for an hour and I felt pretty good... I was worn out before we started, but I loosened up pretty good for an old man.
    Friday, we drove up to Mystic and met more of the family and had a family dinner that evening. Saturday, the family split up, with the young 'uns heading off to an amusement park and Ruth and I an some of the old codgers spending the day visiting two casinos operated by native Americans (fromerly known as Indians.) We didn't gamble, but enjoyed the stores and a great restaurant, and went to a great museum on Native Americans as Foxwood.
    Sunday morning we had a church service. Our daughter Dee, who is a Baptist minister, did the sermon, other family members did the readings and prayers and I provided the music. After that, we had a final meal together and headed home Sunday afternoon. Yesterday afternoon (Monday,) some of our family from Virginia came to the house and we had another great time. Five days in all.
    Oh yeah, my black raspberries went nuts while we were gone, so I'm having them on cereal in the morning and making black raspberry ice cream sundaes in the evening. Life is good. Hope it is for you, too.

Subject: RE: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Jerry Rasmussen
Date: 02 Aug 09 - 06:05 PM

Turn ups? I love them fried in butter. Funny to see how the terms differ from shore to shore.

The term trouser disappeared over hear with the trolley cars. Funny thing though, reflecting on the changes. When I was a little boy, it was a rite of passage when you got your first long pants (trousers to you.) Little boys wore short pants, knobby, skinned knees proudly displayed. Long pants meant you were a big boy.

Jerry