Now & Then
Or: Vive la difference!
Big Eek: “As a former Canuck, I take great pride in the fact that it was a fellow Canadian, Dr. Naismith, who invented the game of basketball at a YMCA gym in one of the Springfields down here. [Bulletin Board interjects: Springfield, Massachusetts.]
“Now that the time for March Madness has arrived, I am squirreled away here at the nursing home trying to catch as many women’s games as I can.
“What about the men, you might ask? ‘Oh no,’ I say. ‘That’s a different game. I call it Dunkers and Junkers.’
“If I have a chance, I want to watch Caitlin Clark and Iowa against Nebraska or LSU. It is wonderful to watch the skill and courage of these women playing ‘basketball’ the way Dr. Naismith envisioned it.
“Say, eh!”
Sleepers
Vertically Challenged: “A lot of you ever wish you could just fall asleep ’most anywhere? Evidently little Natalia has no problem — even upside down in a chair!”
The vision thing
Twitty of Como: “Subject: Our loons, ourselves.
“I opened my online version of the Pioneer Press on March 21st, and the first thing that caught my eye was the story about the United Village development and the giant loon that’s flying in from Los Angeles, intended to permanently land at the southeast corner of Snelling and University avenues.
“My eye stopped right there. I read it again. Then I read the whole article. Well, most of it, anyway.
“Apparently this big loon has something to do with a stadium in the area. But how will they keep it there permanently? Is there a pond on that corner now? Because, as most people familiar with loons know, loons can barely walk. They are clumsy on dry land. They prefer living water. They like fish, too. Who will provide the fish?
“Loons are known for their repeated loud, plaintive calls, often made at night. I can just imagine the complaints . . . especially from those staying at the planned hotel, not to mention passengers trying to sleep on passing trains . . . .”
Today’s helpful hint
Leading to: Muse, amuse
The Doryman of Prescott, Wisconsin: “Subject: Miracle solvent.
“I was watching an interview with an art-museum restoration expert awhile back that left me salivating.
“She was asked what solution was used to clean priceless old masterpieces. Her reply was spittle. Yes, good old everyday, often-wasted-on-the-ground spit. The expert went on to explain that saliva has an enzyme that gently dissolves years of grimy surface coatings. Of course, she did apply it on a Q-tip or swab first, but for removing smoke films, dirt and other grime, it was the safest yet very effective way of restoring original colors and finishes to objets d’art without risk of damaging the underlying material or pigments.
“The only disappointment I felt about the segment was her failure to take advantage of the opportunity to mention its convenience. After all, you always have a lifetime supply, it’s always handy and never misplaced. And she even ignored the fact that it is free to everyone.
“The only thing that’s hard to swallow? It has an expiration date that you aren’t informed of.”
Life (and death, and near-death) as we know it
March 26th email from Kathy S. of St. Paul: “Subject: Every Time a Bridge Falls.
“Every time I hear about a bridge accident, I remember the collapse of our I-35W bridge. I worked in Minneapolis then, and considered crossing that bridge a few hours before the accident. I took I-94 instead, because I have a fear of bridges falling. I knew that construction on I-35W would force many vehicles to inch their vehicles forward as they drove across the bridge, and I would hate it.
“The next day, I had to drive back to work, over that same river. Other drivers and I clustered and slowed as we neared the I-94 bridge, then sped up and raced across it alone or in pairs. Before and after the bridge, we drove normally. And we did this for weeks after the collapse.
“This morning a bridge fell near Baltimore after it was hit by a ship, and too many construction workers are still missing. I hope someone is inventing a panic button and/or strobe light that workers would wear or have near them while working on dangerous places like bridges or tall buildings — something that might give them split-seconds to know they are in danger, and maybe save themselves.
“My heart grieves for all those in or connected to this accident. I hope our best minds give workers their best chance to live through disasters in our future.”
Life (and death) as we know it (responsorial)
Grandma Pat, “formerly of rural Roberts, Wisconsin, and now of St. Paul, Minnesota”: “A few weeks ago, I read a post in Bulletin Board from Betty. In it, she writes about being the ‘last leaf upon the tree.’ She talks about being the only remaining person from among those who were older than she and many of her contemporaries.
“At 93, I can relate to all of that. However, I still do have four of my six children living on this Earth, plus 12 grandchildren and six great-grandchildren (with the seventh expected soon). So, instead of feeling like a ‘last leaf,’ I feel more like an old root, and that’s fine with me.”
Hmmmmmmmm
Plus: Fun with vocabulary!
Both from The Happy Medium: (1) “Subject: Where Does the White Go?
“The other day, a friend asked: ‘Where does the white go when the snow melts?’
“I’ve questioned many things, but I had never thought about where the white goes when the snow melts. Have you? It must go someplace. I sat myself down and thought about it, took pen in hand and wrote my answers:
“Where does the white go when the snow melts?
“To the marshmallow on top of a cup of hot cocoa.
“To the white bib of the Welsh Corgi Pembroke begging for food.
“On the bald eagle’s head as he searches from his perch.
“Into the cumulus clouds after a long day’s rain.
“Within the foam of the river as it ripples downstream.
“Up to the moon as it attempts to eclipse the sun.
“And finally:
“Onto the white sheet of paper waiting for the writer’s words.
“That is where the white goes when the snow melts.
“Where do you think the white goes when the snow melts?
“Have fun.”
(2) “A friend sent me a Star Tribune article about readers’ lamenting the need to look up unfamiliar words when reading a book of fiction or nonfiction. Some didn’t appreciate the necessity to grab the dictionary to find out a word’s meaning, because it halted the flow of the story. Other readers didn’t mind looking up a word when reading. They liked the challenge.
“Gary Gilson, the author of the article, and his readers tossed out four words that might cause a reader to halt reading and refer to the dictionary before continuing. These words were adamantine, obfuscate, gallimaufry, and eleemosynary.
“I referred to the dictionary for pronunciation and definition for each word. Then I called another friend, much smarter than I, and shared the spellings and an attempt at the pronunciations. We both knew of the word obfuscate.
“I had to laugh out loud at my friend’s comment about the other three words. She said: ‘I’ve never seen that collection of letters before.’ And I agreed.
“Felicitous reading, everyone.”
Know thyself
And: Could be verse!
A pair of verses from Eos: (1) “Subject: Love Handles.
“I used to be 5-foot-6, lean and rather thin.
“Now I am 5-foot-3, and what a state I’m in.
“‘It all has to go somewhere.’
“This is not a myth.
“Whatever you lose in vertical,
“you gain in breadth and width.”
(2) “Subject: Imagination.
“Oh, childhood!
“I could move like the wind back then.
“I could fly, soaring far above the earth.
“I could jump as high as the treetops.
“I rode a beautiful black stallion,
“and could shoot a silver dollar out of the sky.
“Oh, my imagination!
“Oh, my dear inner child.
“We can still do all those things.
“What a team we make!”
Dumb Non-Customer Jokes?
Bill of the river lake: “Subject: Those solicitors.
“We purchased a creative front-door sign while camping down
by Harmony last summer. It reads:
“‘No Soliciting
“‘We are too broke to buy anything
“‘We know who we are voting for
“‘We have found Jesus
“‘So unless you are selling cookies, we are not interested.
“‘Thank you’
“(We don’t really miss those solicitors.)”
Our pets, ourselves
The Hastings Crazy Quilter writes: “I think my husband is a bad influence on our dog.
“My husband, the Naster Maturalist, is an avid birdwatcher. He goes on at least one bird hike a day, come rain or shine. The mailman has nothing on him. He almost always takes our Catahoula dog, Urika, with him.
“I can tell how the hike went by the way our dog acts when she comes home. If it was a short hike (a couple of miles), she will come over to me, wagging her tail until I pet her, then jumps up on the couch for a nap. You’ve heard of couch potatoes? There are couch canines, also. If it was a long hike, she’ll just wag once and go to the sofa. If it was a REALLY long hike (5-plus miles), she sometimes just drops to the floor by the door.
“Last month, when it was cold, they went on a hike which ended up being about 5 miles. Two miles in was a good birding spot. If she is on leash, Urika won’t run away; she will just nose around, sniffing the area. So the Master Naturalist will drop the leash and look at the birds. This time, as she was nosing around, Urika hit paydirt: a dead deer! Oh, happy day! It had been picked over, except it had one intact leg, from hoof to hip joint. She was enthralled! So much so that when they started hiking again, she dragged this leg along. As the Naster Maturalist said later: ‘It was frozen. No maggots or fleas. Not bad at all.’
“They went another half-mile, then turned back. That dog dragged that leg all the way back to the parking lot — a total of 3 miles.
“Then she was told she couldn’t keep it. He didn’t want it in his car, and she (meaning me) wouldn’t want it in the house. I wouldn’t want it in the yard, either; I can’t think of a better coyote invite than a deer leg in the yard.
“Anyway, when Urika got home. I could tell she was tired. But she came over to me, sashaying back and forth in front of me, slapping me with her tail. Then she looked up at me, a glint in her eye, and snarled, showing teeth. Like she was saying: ‘I’m no couch canine! I am a predator dog.’
“Yep, I think my husband might be a bad influence on our dog.”
Unclear on the concept (encore)
Or: In memoriam
We have heard from longtime B. Boarder Bob Woolley: “The death of Joe Lieberman reminds me of the funny moment in 2020 when Senator John Breaux was asked whether America would elect an Orthodox Jew. He said: ‘I don’t think the American people are going to care where he goes to church on Sunday.’
“If I recall correctly, I was watching that live on TV when it happened, and immediately called that in to you. You ran it. If you can find it, and if you feel like it, you certainly have my permission to run it again.”
BULLETIN BOARD SAYS: Indeed, we shall. Our headline that day — August 8, 2000 — was: “Holy Sabbath, Breaux-man! What day is it?”
The item: “Monday-morning report from Bob Woolley of St. Paul:
“I’m watching the `Today’ show’s coverage of the impending announcement of Senator Lieberman as Al Gore’s running mate. They interviewed Senator John Breaux and asked him the predictable question of whether being an Orthodox Jew will be held against Lieberman. Breaux responded: `I don’t think the American people are going to care where he goes to church on Sunday.’ ”
Life in the Cybermarketing Economy
Leading to: The vision thing
OTD from NSP: “Subject: Junk email.
“Last weekend I received 15 junk emails for ‘miracle sheets,’ a daily record for this ongoing spam.
“As I have not opened any of them, I am not sure what the miracle is. But in my mind, I picture sheets of high thread count — ones that automatically strip the bed, float down the hall (like Casper) to the laundry, wash and dry themselves, and remake the bed (including the bedspread). If this is true, I may consider opening an email and seeing what the miracle is. But then I am a fan of sci-fi and fantasy novels and shows.”
Our birds, ourselves
Al B of Hartland: “Canada geese mate for life . . . unless they discuss politics.”
Band Name of the Day: No Maggots or Fleas
Website of the Day: Catahoula Leopard Dog
Bulletin Board 