Daddy's Girl

Tea parties with Daddy and I lean back in my chair
And cross my hands behind my head
Just like you.

Daddy-clock strikes eight and my Cinderella slippers giggle
And glide and good night, sleep tight, don't let the
Bed bugs bite.

Fifty miles each in the front seat
And the city is a necklace and we are warm and secure in our
Station wagon cocoon.

Giant steps are what you take
And Daddy is as tall as forever and when I hear his voice
I am not afraid.

this lamb is your lamb, this lamb is my lamb

Roosevelt Elementary, Wauwatosa, Wisconsin
May, 1939

Imagine a school play, a historical yarn. . .


[Enter GEORGE WASHINGTON and BETSY ROSS stage left, carrying a stuffed lamb.]

GEORGE:

Her fingers strong and nimble,
and patient skill unbounded,
Betsy Ross sewed the symbol
of this new country we'd founded.

BETSY:

When the founding fathers asked
my help, I thought it was a dream.
The stars! The stripes! The spangled task!
But to sew by twilight's gleam
is more than eyes can handle;
and by Dawn's early light I stare.
When I really need a candle
I sew instead by rockets' red glare.

GEORGE:

Betsy Ross, I cannot lie.
Your sewing tale has made me weep.
One question, though: I wonder why
does our story have a sheep?

BETSY:

Don't be such a nitwit, George.
I sewed the flag from sheep's wool
clipped from the flock at Valley Forge.
That's the story, told in full.
One could say our tale's sheer yarn.

GEORGE:

Frankly, my dear, I don't give a darn
if your story's true or full of sheep.
You've needled me, you've had your fun,
you've got my goat, you've made the puns,
the story's done. It's time to sleep.

[Exit and curtain. Wool curtain, of course.]

road america redux

A spin around the track.

the gift of time

Wow, you have just reached your 75th birthday! Happy Birthday! Someone should give you a gold watch. I’ve got one. This is the last watch that John bought sometime in 2005 at WalMart. The sales person at the jewelry counter took out some of the links in the band so you may have to put them back. John was always happy with the latest watch purchase.

John thought the world of you, Norm.

Best wishes,
Marilee

A Tired Story

Norm, circa 1997

Today I went to purchase four tires for the Mazda. I had heard that Sam's Club had a good deal on tires. In fact I think I heard this from my brother-in-law, so Mary and I went there last night, and got a membership, and a few other items. Today was the day for the tires. I may bore you with the details, but I found the system fascinating.

First you go in the front door, and they stop you to make sure you have a card with your picture on it. Then you pick up a very large cart, since four tires don't fit well in the typical grocery cart. This cart is about the size of our motorhome, and navigating the aisles without knocking over little old ladies is difficult. When you get to the tire area there is a guy to help choose the right tires (thank goodness). After I have been talked into the tires he thinks I should have, he has to climb to the top tier of the rack to get the right tires. I put them on the cart and head back for the little old ladies. The cart and I get to the checkout, where I have to furnish a young lady with my Sam's card, and a Discover card. (They are pushing Discover and I am not sure they take any other cards.) After the transaction is complete I put the cards and my charge slip into my wallet and head out the door. Before I can get through the door with my cart full of tires two ladies descend on me, and request to see the charge slip. They count the tires and mark my slip with a yellow marker. They tell me this is to stop all the crooks and thieves from taking out merchandise that hasn't been paid for.

Outside I discover it is raining, as a trundle my tires to the car and fit them neatly into the trunk of the Mazda. (An ordinary trunk wouldn't hold them.) The next step is to drive around to the back of the building to the tire and battery shop. I check in, fill out two warranty forms, tell the guy the car is parked outside with the tires in the trunk. I give the keys to him and he says it will be about an hour. I ask how to get back into the store and he tells me to walk back around to the front of the building, since there is no door from the tire shop to the store. It is still raining, so I half run toward the front door, which is about a half-block away. The first door I come to is the newly opened liquor store, so I go in there and look for some good wine deals. None were to be found, so I duck back out into the rain again (there is no door from the liquor store to the main store either) and go back into the front door where the female mafia make me drag my card out again.

For the next 45 minutes I amuse myself playing with the video cameras, and the stereo systems. (Loud music sure carries in a big building like that.) I am having so much fun I hate to leave, besides I have to go past those ladies and I haven't bought anything. Fortunately they wave me through and I am back in the rain again.

Without getting too wet I make it back to the shop just as the guy is putting the tires back on the car. Within five minutes he is done, hands me my paperwork, and backs the car out the door.

On the way home I drive fast, drive slow, swerve from lane to lane, hit the brakes, and generally make a nuisance of myself on the freeway to see how the tires act. Everything seems great and I put the car in the garage with a feeling that maybe all the inconveniences were worth it. I get in the door, and Mary says the guy from the shop had called, and wanted to talk to me. It seems that I have a car out in the garage with eight tires. Four on the wheels and four in the trunk. He put someone else's tires on my car, and didn't notice it until he couldn't find the next customer's tires. The tires that fit my car are 185/70/14. On the car are four 205/70/14. He asked me if the tires were rubbing and I said no. I got a flashlight and looked, and the springs in the back are about 1/2 inch from touching the tire. Now I have to go back to good old Sam's, and give them back their tires, and have them put the trunk tires on.

All this because I listened to my brother-in-law.

A "tired old saying" for you...a tire in the trunk is worth two on the car.

road america

feel the roar
bug-eyed Sprites, Triumphs and Jags
90 mph blur past agape spectators
hands cover ears

on the track now in TR
slow along Kettle Bottoms Straights
officials are watching you know

NOW! dive hard right into Canada Corner
double-clutch
. feather-gas
. . second-gear-shift
. . . right-boot-to-the floor
. . . . sweet exhaust note barks

up and down Thunder Valley, heads turn

welcome to Road America. Elkhart Lake Wisconsin. Summer of 1963.

the captain

Ahoy, mateys. With this vaguely maritime photo as accompaniment, we walk the poetic plank and plunge right into doggerel.

Ahem.

The captain strode upon the deck,
his face neither calm nor placid.
Someone smeared the toilet seat
with hydrochloric acid!

Classic. The only things missing right now are a patch on your eye, a bottle of rum in your hand, and a parrot on your shoulder.

And since we're on the subject, let's not forget about Talk Like a Pirate Day, celebrated every year on September 19. Aarrrr!

summer of '79

Happy Birthday Uncle Norm!

In the summer of 1979 you took in your troubled niece and you all made me feel so welcome and part of your wonderful family. It couldn't have been easy putting up with my drama but you sure never made me feel that way. Your whole family, with you and my very special godmother at the helm, are truly an example of how really loving each other makes us strong enough to handle all that life chooses to bring our way. We don't get to see you as often as we'd like but you are never far from my thoughts. I love you FOGMAN!!!!!!!!

Amy

superdad

It’s his personal crusade - his calling.

Night after night, he faces his adversary with determination and grit. He emerges from the bathroom transformed – a blur of white BVDs and steely resolve. He roams the darkened house searching for his nemesis. A rolled up newspaper his trusty bludgeon. The darkness vibrates with whacks and exclamations. He will not rest until sleeping innocents are safe from annoying ear-buzzing and itchy welts.

Vampires of the night, beware. Your bloodsucking days are numbered.

ice cream and SOAP

Every night during the ten o'clock news, there was a 90-second commercial break between weather and sports that was just long enough to run to the kitchen, load up a gargantuan bowl of ice cream, and make it back to Mom and Dad's bedroom. The 10:30 slot was prime time for sitcom viewing, procrastination, and general homework avoidance. "Cheers" ruled for years, and "MASH" and generations of "Star Trek" variously drifted through the late night schedule. But before them all, there was "SOAP."

Memories

The Way We Were