The kindness of strangers
Reports Grandma Pat, “formerly of rural Roberts, Wisconsin, now of St. Paul”: “One would think that by age 93, things would be mostly uneventful. Not so.
“Case in point: A few days ago, two friends and I decided to go to O’Shaughnessy Auditorium, on the adjacent college campus, for a Kevin Kling performance. We settled into our seats a bit early. My seat was at the end of a row where there is a 1-foot dropoff from the aisle to the seating.
“A woman came to our row carrying a glass of beer. She fell, showering me with beer. (Luckily she was not injured.) She was very apologetic, and hurriedly went off to gather an armful of paper towels. Next she proceeded to energetically wipe me down, all while apologizing. This was almost as traumatizing as the beer shower, but she meant well.
“Then, when the show was over, we realized that the temperature outside had dropped enough to form a slick coating of ice on the sidewalks and parking lots. A whole flock of younger people came to help us walk safely. One couple even drove us to the entrance of our building.
“Perhaps Mr. Kling had set a tone with his uplifting performance, or maybe —despite what we see in the news — people are mostly kind and caring after all.”
Life (and death) as we know it
R.J. of Hammond, Wisconsin, writes: “It’s been a year and a half now since the day my heart was shattered. On a dreary, windy, chilly April day, a sheriff’s deputy and a chaplain showed up at my door to give me the incomprehensible news that my husband of 47 years — the most careful, safety-conscious man I ever knew — had just died from a farm accident. He was my prince, my hero, my rock, my best friend, the love of my life and he was gone, that suddenly. After that first date just before Christmas in 1974, there was no one else for me. It was Love at First Date.
“He retired after 25 years with the U.S.D.A. to farm full-time. He always said when his time came, he would rather be found face down in the barn lot than spend months or years in a nursing home. But it was much, much too soon. He had battled his way through a mean cancer and six months of chemo and emerged victorious as far as anyone could tell. He was so happy to be back full force at his farming operation, always expanding, always trying to improve. I never knew anyone who worked as hard as he did. He was always learning, and he was a fountain of knowledge on an unbelievable number of subjects. I always said I didn’t need a smartphone to look things up; I could just ask my husband. Who remembers all the stuff they learned in high-school geometry or history or college algebra or genetics? My husband did. He was always cool as a cucumber, always decisive in an emergency. He could be counted on to always do the right thing, the ethical thing. In nearly 48 years together, I never once heard him tell a lie. He was a perfectionist with everything he did. And he could do so many things. It always amazed me.
“He wasn’t a perfect human being. His temper sometimes reminded me of The Incredible Hulk, except he didn’t turn green. And he wrote the book on stubborn. But he was the first to apologize after an argument. And he had one of the softest hearts I ever knew. He wouldn’t go to bed until he had found the cat that shouldn’t be outside at night. And when he had a sick calf, he could be counted on to be out in the pasture or the barn in the middle of the night, holding a flashlight in his teeth while he gave the second or third I.V. of the day. The mama cow would often be right there with her head over his shoulder while he worked, trusting him to help the calf. He always said he couldn’t look the cow in the eye unless he had done everything he could to save the baby. And when he couldn’t, he did the right thing then, too. But he said the memory of every animal he had to put down stayed with him forever.
“They say ‘Time heals,’ but I have not found that to be true, and I doubt I have enough years left for it anyway. The pain, the shock, the emptiness are as vivid as they were in the beginning. I miss him far more than I could have ever imagined. I have come to realize, however, how very lucky I was to have had him all those years. If the Lord had said to me 50 years ago, ‘Hey, I have a deal for you. I have a tall, strong, drop-dead-handsome guy who is one of the smartest people you will ever meet. His competence at so many things will astound you. You share the same values — and where you differ, you will influence each other and become closer. He is 100 percent honest, and his integrity is unimpeachable. He will always be faithful to you. You won’t have an easy life together. You will have many challenges and heartaches, more than most couples, but he will be by your side always. He will love you more than anyone else ever has, and you will love him more than anyone else. But you will lose him suddenly and unexpectedly, and your heart will hurt more than you can possibly imagine. Do you want the deal?’ And of course I would have said ‘Yes. I do.’ Was it worth it in retrospect? Absolutely.
“Faith, hope, love abide — these three. But the greatest of these is love. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends.”
The Permanent Sonly Record
John in Highland writes: “Subject: ‘What Are You Doing Here?’
“Oftentimes when I tell of memories from early days in elementary school, my friends scoff at me and tell me that no one has a memory that good. But I distinctly remember one occurrence from kindergarten days:
“St. Luke’s grade school in the early 1950s was rapidly expanding with the influx of ‘baby boomer’ children. My kindergarten class of more than 150 students had to be divided into three two-hour sections: 8 to 10 a.m., 10 a.m. to noon, and 1-3 p.m. All of the classes were taught by a kindly, elderly nun, Sister Kathleen.
“One of the events each day was having us attempt to draw, with crayons, a picture that was posted above the bulletin board. On this day, the picture was an ice cream cone, with the cone having myriad stripes of different colors.
“My young mind was overcome with the complexity of the assignment. I took the only reasonable action and went to the ‘cloak room’ at the back, out the door, and walked the two blocks home.
“To say that my mother was surprised to see me is an understatement. ‘What are you doing here?’ she said. I attempted to explain my predicament, but I did not think that she was impressed.
“The next day she walked me to school. She had a word with Sister. Later mom told me that with all the kids in the class, Sister hadn’t even missed me!”
Our pets ourselves
’Tis the Season! Division
Vertically Challenged writes: “Can you spot the kitties?
“Our son sent us this pic after he and his girlfriend decided to make the Christmas tree a little more pet-friendly, after previous years of cat destruction and chaos. He weaved some of the branches in there, where they now can go and sit on their little perches and leave the rest of the tree alone. (Or at least they have so far.)
“It looks like one of those hidden-picture puzzles and took me awhile to find them at first!”
BULLETIN BOARD NOTES (in case you’re wondering): Yes, there are three cats in the tree.
Joy of Juxtaposition (responsorial)
Bundt Cake Division
COS of the East Side: “Semi-Legend noted that his wife had recently introduced him to Nothing Bundt Cakes, but many of their offerings did not have the distinctive hole in the center.
“Only days earlier, I had discovered the supposedly ‘new’ Chocolate Drizzle Baby Bundts from Hostess and bought a box of them. The photo on the box certainly looked like mini-bundt cakes — but much to my dismay, when I took them out of the box, it was obvious that they, too, did not possess the supposedly mandatory center hole.
“I was totally flummoxed. Has the world of baked goods descended into total anarchy? Do donuts no longer have holes, either? But wait! There are jelly-filled ‘donuts’ without holes. And don’t get me started on ‘donut holes,’ which aren’t holes in any sense of the word. Oh the horror!
“This is the pizza fiasco all over again. Anyone who is Older Than Dirt knows exactly what a pizza looks like and what the allowable toppings are. But what has happened? Apparently nowadays any piece of bread dough of any thickness or shape with any sort of toppings can now be called a pizza with impunity. People, those abominations covered with a random assortment of vegetables and/or fruits — and even worse — do not a pizza make! Here endeth my rant.”
Live and learn!
Plus: What won’t they think of next!?
Rusty of St. Paul reports: “For years I’ve been using vegetable peelers that look like the letter ‘Y’ with a blade across the top. In the past week, I have learned two things about them.
“Many of them have a projection off the side that is an ‘eyer,’ to scoop out the eyes in the potatoes. What the? I got one of my peelers out of my kitchen tool drawer, and yessir, there it was. I guess I can’t fault myself for not knowing what it is, as I had never noticed it before.
“Then I read in a cooking magazine that the blade is designed so that when you peel down the carrot, you rotate the carrot just a smidgeon and pull the peeler back up — thus being more peel-efficient. I got a carrot out and tried it. Well, I’ll be!
“What’s next? We’ll hold a device the size of a pack of cards, talk into it AND see the live face of the person we’re talking to?”
Our inflatables, ourselves
A Sven for All Seasons Division
Gregory J. of Dayton’s Bluff writes: “I like Halloween, and I like to decorate for it. My decorations of choice are inflatables. Usually I add a new one each year, even though my front yard is running out of space. For that reason and the fact that I couldn’t find anything that met my criteria — namely, it had to be something different and also inexpensive — I had decided to just use what I already had this year.
“But then a few weeks before Halloween, I received an email announcing that a Svengoolie inflatable was now available. For those few unfortunate people who have never heard of Sven, he is a horror-movie host on MeTV on Saturday nights. Sven wears a tuxedo and top hat, tells corny jokes, sings parody songs, his puns are awful, and he has a tendency to get attacked by flying rubber chickens. But Sven really knows his stuff and shows some of the best and worst horror and science-fiction movies of all time. As horror-show hosts go, I’d rank him second only to Elvira. But I digress.
“It turns out that the Sven inflatable sold out in seven hours because only 650 were available. Since I was lucky enough to snag one of them, I figured it was my duty to make the most of it. I found room for Sven in the position of honor at the top of the steps right in front of my house. Despite snow that morning, Sven hung in there and greeted 111 trick-or-treaters.
“The real Sven mentioned on this show that inflatable Sven could easily be transformed into a pilgrim for Thanksgiving, which I did. Even though I don’t normally decorate for Turkey Day, I put together an outdoor display with Pilgrim Sven and some repurposed Halloween decorations.
“As long as the weather was good, I transformed the inflatable into Sventa Claus, a name created by the real Sven.
“Sadly, I’ve put Sven away until next Halloween, because our winters can wreak havoc on inflatables. But you never know. If winter ends early, maybe Sven will make an appearance for St. Patrick’s Day.”
A thought for the season
From Anonymous Woman: “For many people, this is an old-time hectic and happy holiday season. But there are those who, for whatever reason, might be very alone — and watching others ‘have fun.’ My hope is that the busy people will take the time to say Hi (etc.) this year. You never know how much it might mean to someone who is struggling.”
This ’n’ that ’n’ the other
’Tis the Season! Division
A pair from Kathy S. of St Paul: (1) “St. Nicholas came to my church on December 3 — the Sunday before St. Nicholas’s official feast on December 6. A previous, much-mourned priest of our parish started the tradition. He disappeared during the announcements, after the Mass was officially ended, and changed into a red bishop-type costume. ‘St. Nicholas’ greeted us all and then handed out candy to the kids. It was so much fun, and other men kept the tradition going after we lost that priest.
“This year our St. Nicholas gave out pairs of coins instead of candy. As he handed them out, he asked each child to keep one coin and give its twin to someone who they thought needed it. St. Nicholas would probably approve of this approach, since he is known as someone who looked out for the poor.
“Yay, St. Nicholas! Even though I was brought up on Santa Claus.”
(2) “Subject: Santa is busy.
“This holiday season is the most hectic I remember since before 2016.
How busy is it this year? Our favorite neighborhood Santa is developing laryngitis from talking to so many kids.”
The darnedest things
WARNING! Cute kid story ahead, from Bill of the river lake: “The other day, as I was working as a substitute custodian at an elementary school, a kindergarten
girl showed me her drawing on a piece of paper about 8 inches by 2 inches, colored in green with a pair of eyes and a curly red tongue at the top.
“She offered it to me. I asked her what it was, and she said: ‘It is a snake.’
“‘What kind?’ I asked.
“And she said, quite simply: ‘A German shepherd.’
“Wow!
“Her friend next to her said: ‘I thought that a German shepherd was a DOG.’
“Kids!”
Our times
Elvis reports: “Subject: Older Than Dirt loyalty.
“Elvis has a friend who needed a new cellphone this fall. After some comparisons and searches, they went to a local cellphone store, purchased a phone, and added her to his plan. This was less expensive than setting up a phone plan for her alone. Elvis did the same thing a few years ago, and his mom also has a phone line on his plan.
“Elvis specifically asked the man helping us if the discounts he currently had for being a loyal customer and over 55 would carry over. Yes, they would, but it might take a few months for them to appear correctly.
“Elvis remembered to check on this claim when the December bill arrived. He saw his loyalty/senior discount on the bill for $25 each month. Elvis looked back at a bill from last summer. He may be old, but hasn’t forgotten everything. Sure enough — in June, the loyalty discount had been $40.
“Getting to a live person in customer service is harder than ever today. The male-sounding ‘voice assistant’ who answered his call kept insisting that they could help him. Or Elvis could connect to a text/chat agent immediately. This was offered several times, but Elvis kept saying ‘No’ and ‘Live agent’ until he was placed on hold, after a long notice about privacy laws in California was recited to him.
“As an aside: Elvis has caught himself more than once saying ‘Please’ or ‘Thank you’ to one of the A.I. bots we interact with all the time. Siri and Alexa don’t need to be thanked, but it was a habit that was actually kind of hard to break when a pleasantly cheerful non-human voice tries to assist him. Elvis was raised to be polite, but Mom probably didn’t mean for him to apply that to robots.
“Reva answered the line after a few minutes, obviously from a faraway place. She listened to Elvis‘s concern that his ‘loyalty’ discount had gone down. She looked up some information and said that today’s bill was correct. The discount for three lines is less than for two. Elvis protested that this seemed not very logical, or right, since he had just brought them another customer and continued to be a very loyal subscriber. She agreed and gave an immediate $15 credit to him, and is ‘escalating’ the matter. Elvis should know in a few days if being loyal means less, not more, or at least the same.
“The most interesting moment came when Reva said that she had looked up the account and that Elvis had in fact been a loyal customer for 22 years now. And she added: ‘This is as long as I have been on Earth!’ Elvis does not think she meant that she was an alien, but did reflect that he is getting old, since he remembers when cellphones were brand-new devices. And Elvis has lots of memories of what phones used to be like. His father had just remarked the day before that he had made a call and didn’t need to worry about long-distance charges or waiting until the evening to call his friend.
“Times have changed, and loyalty has, too, but hopefully Reva’s superiors will realize they need to give good customers more, not less.”
Fellow travelers (self-responsorial)
Pollyanna of Clifton, Wisconsin, “formerly of Lakeland”: “Subject: An addendum.
“Hello again,
“I forwarded my BB email to my sister, The Artist. She reminded me that I hadn’t included any of the 23 haikus we wrote on our trip. Here are a few:
“Black birds, a flash flock
“Undulant across the sky
“Migration calls them
“The Grand Stay Hotel
“Towels rolled like bales of hay
“Pineapple t.p.
“Puzzled and annoyed
“Can’t find the tri-state marker
“I might just give up
“Hay bale in the street
“Preacher wins chili cook-off
“Live music tonight
“Seed pod beckoning
“Rolled under barbed wire fence
“Got her souvenir
“Thrift store in Mitchell
“Homemade taters and meatloaf
“Welcome to free lunch
“There was no toilet
“Behind derelict buildings
“Adventure peeing
“Ubiquitous flies
“Silent little black bastards
“’Get out of my car!’
’Tis the season!
And: The Permanent Paternal Record
Here’s R.J. of Hammond, Wisconsin, again: “Subject: Merry Christmas.
“My father, born in 1900, was a small-town newspaper editor and publisher. In December of 1988, he wrote one of his last columns before a devastating stroke silenced his pen. While I was recently moving, I came across it:
“‘The Christmas season brings so many memories — some almost beyond recall — and yet poignant thoughts of days that were. Perhaps the earliest is the admonition that Santa Claus found hanging at the mantel by the stockings of good little boys and girls. “Don’t expect much if you have been naughty.”
“‘There’s the story of Joseph and Mary, the Babe in the manger. The first kindergarten gift exchange in school — the orange bulging in the stocking on Christmas morning — perhaps a new sled under the Christmas tree — night air vibrant with the song of carolers.
“‘Memories of happy family gatherings come flooding. There’s the nostalgic sadness as we recall the breaks in the family circle — the death of our father — a young brother — and the loss of schoolmates and family friends.
“‘The seasons roll on — there’s new friends — new experiences — new losses. And we cling to the hope and belief that one morning we shall awaken in the Eternity which finds us reunited with all the loved ones who have departed before us, and that the old hymn, “Come All Ye Faithful” will have new and glorious meaning to us. MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL OUR READERS!'”
BULLETIN BOARD SAYS: We can’t do any better than R.J.‘s father.
MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL OUR READERS!
Band Name of the Day: Cat Chaos
Website of the Day: NORAD Tracks Santa
Bulletin Board 