Mr. Toad Went a Travlin'

Our froggy friend, known as Mr. Toad, has gone a travlin'. Once again, Mr. Toad appeared in my wife's flower basket. Despite my suggestions that Mr. Toad was only looking for a nice place to hide out during the day light hours, my wife thought it was time for Toady to move on. To the extent that she believed this, she drove him over to new more suburban area, Mallory Lake.

Hope Mr. Toad likes his new home.

Mr. Toad

A loud chirp, almost plaintive, alerted me as I stepped out onto our front porch. Just the day before, my wife found a toad in the flower basket mounted by our front door.
We released the toad into a ditch. Could this be another toad? Or, was it a bird in the evergreen next to the porch where the robins hatched their eggs and raised their young?

A little detective work led to the discovery of Mr. Toad, once again in the flower basket,
and once again released. This time, my son carefully hand carried him to one of our flower gardens.

As my wife went out to water the plants, she found Mr. Toad in the basket again this morning.
Other than water, flowers, and ants,
not sure why he keeps coming back.

Father's Day

My father was a quiet man. Although he offered few words, he had a hardy recognizable laugh. The most advice he ever gave me was when I got on the bus to join the Army. His counsel, “Don’t volunteer.” Meaning, if a Sergeant is looking for a volunteer, don’t. His only other recommendation was, keep a good credit rating. Both suggestions have served me well.

In other ways, he quietly supported my interests. He came to band concerts and took me to solo contests.

Didn’t tell me what direction to take my life. Also, although I did play basketball and football, not well, but I was on the team. He never attended a game. His favorite pass time was fishing; he passed on to me his passion for the simple pleasures of patience, being in nature, and taking pleasure in the catch.

More can be said, but that’s enough to honor a well remembered father on his day.

Mother Made

One of the privileges of age is thinking backwards in time to days now long gone that were once a vividly important present. What once seemed commonplace, we now recognize as unique. Such a time is represented in the memories I have of my childhood neighborhood. There were boys and girls I played with everyday and who were the center of my social life, that I haven’t seen in many years, as most were not members of my high school graduating class. My neighborhood gang doesn’t have a periodical reunion.

Recalling some of the games we played is a pleasure. In our yard was an old gnarled box elder tree, thick in trunk with humps and bumps, that made a perfect home base for games of hide and seek. Our gangs favorite version of hide and seek was “Mother Made.”

The person who was “it” leaned against the tree with their forearm covering their eyes while all the others gather round “its” back. One person drew a continuous circle with his or her finger on ’it’s back and slowly recited, “Mother made a chocolate pie, and someone stuck their finger in it.” At that point, one of the gang would stick their finger in the middle of the imaginary pie on “its” back. “It” would then have to guess who was the guilty person. If “it guessed correctly, whoever stuck a finger in the pie was “it.” If “it” was wrong, he or she was still “it.”

At that point, whoever was now “it.” had to again lean against the tree on their forearm with eyes closed and count to one hundred, while everybody else ran off and hid.

“It” could venture off of home base while searching for the others, but needed to return to the base before the person he or she spied. So, while venturing out to seek the others, when “it” saw someone hiding “it” called out the person‘s name, “ I spy Johnny!“ Then they both ran as fast as they could back to home. If the hider returned first, that person was home free. If the seeker returned home first, “it” said, “One, two, three on Johnny!” Then, Johnny was “it,” and all of the others could return. In fact, they were called in by yelling, “Ally, Ally, Outs-in-free! The gang all returned home free to start play all over again.

“Mother Made,” was a great game to play in the twilight hours of a summer evening when we children had the run of the neighborhood.

Tellahveeshion

Could I waken in the morning
Not caring what Paris Hilton
Did last night?
Or, what she might do today?
Yes, my life’s not that boring.
Why then, do the airwaves feel that
I crave to know her flight or
Fright? While they mock
Their own coverage and
Blame her because she’s rich
And yells, “Mom!” when
Dragged in jail.
Who wouldn’t? Woeful TV
Get a better coverage for me.

Bike Ride

I bought a new camera Sunday. My old one still takes pictures, but the LCD screen doesn’t work. You can check online to see how much it costs to repair your camera….price $111. Called Wal-Mart to see how much a bottom of the line camera went for, and found one that seemed comparable for $99.00. Bought the camera, then took a bike ride to take some pictures.

Started across campus and stopped at Mallory Lake. Took a picture of the lake and fountain (why they put a fountain in this lake I’ll never understand), and

captured some Canadian Geese swimming in formation.

Peddled over to the old side of campus and took a photo of the base of a new sculpture that will appear in front of the art building.
You can see Memorial Auditorium in the background.

Biked toward town and met a couple of my old colleagues, one riding his bike in the opposite direction, and another sitting on his porch, studying the score for “The Full Monty.” He’s playing in the pit orchestra for the Erie Playhouse. I’d like to post their pictures here, but haven’t yet asked them for permission.

Rode downtown past the funeral home, where I saw a sad sight, a funeral for one of two young children who drowned in a farm pool while their babysitter slept. You might have heard about this tragedy on the national news. Cars were parked everywhere. The funeral for the child was the largest turn-out for a memorial service I’ve seen in our small town.

Biked home to count my blessings and be thankful that I’ve not had to bury any of my children.

Pappy's Pet Peeves Revisited

The following was originally posted on my old blog. Once more for your consideration, I offer my pet peeves; this time with annotation.

Normally we try to look on the sunny side of life’s events to find the inherent joy of our unique experience as human beings. However, even pappy’s patience can be tried upon occasion, so he’s decided to create a feature disclosing his pep peeves. Pappy’s pet peeves will appear periodically until he runs out of peeves. Hopefully, this will be soon.

1. Hypocrites. We’ve taken notice of religious hypocrites for a long time. The kind of person you see in a prominent pew on Sunday morning after spending a week treating his neighbors in unchristian ways. Lately, the political hypocrite is arousing pappy’s ire. The political hypocrite comes in all shades and hues and is not a leader, but the worst kind of follower. I mean the person who bends in the blustery winds to find favor for himself or his party without concern for the common good.

The 2008 Presidential race started out early this year, so we have to be alert to smiling faces, hand shakes, and poll followers.

2. The Know-it all. Persons who know what’s best for everybody and try to control our lives are know-it-alls. We find the know-it-alls on television, talk radio and on the streets. These people believe that they’ve discovered the one true path to spiritual, political, social, or economical enlightenment. The know-it-all wants you and everybody else to behave in his or her prescribed manner. We could use a lot fewer know-it-alls. Present company excused.

Television now boasts more punditry than news, and many viewers can't seem to separate one from the other.

3. Too Many Laws. When you read the Ten Commandments, you realize how few laws we really need to keep everyone in line. Don’t kill; don’t steal, and don’t betray people are laws at the top of my list. We have too many laws with too many interpretations to be a truly free people. If we could govern ourselves with kindness, tolerance, and understanding we’d be well on the way toward fewer laws.

Guess we need to vote for more legislators who don't know the way to the state and federal capitols, oh, we did!

After reading my pet peeves, I realize I’m guilty. Upon occasion, without provocation, I’m hypocritical. And, of course, I think there ought to be laws against things I don’t like. Finally, just writing all this stuff makes me a know-it-all. Turns out I’m my own pet peeve!

Some things never change.
.