On the evening of January 20th this year, I was listening to PBS while sitting in the parking lot of the Presbyterian Church waiting for one of my regular customers to come out from her board meeting.
I sat, enthralled, as I listened to composition after composition either performed or written by black musicians, some of which I'd never heard. I took a couple of notes, but mainly I just listened and enjoyed.
In honor of Black History Month, I thought it would be appropriate to share a few with you.
This first name, George Theophilus Walker, was a complete stranger to me, so don't be a bit surprised if you are in the same boat. Born in 1922, he has had a long and distinguished career as a concert pianist, a composer, and teacher. He earned a doctorate in music, and has had several honorary degrees conferred upon him since by other educational institutions.
The Boston Symphony Orchestra commissioned Dr. Walker to compose a piece around Walt Whitman's When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom'd, for which he received the Pulitzer Prize in music in 1996, the first African American to do so.
What is most amazing to me is that I was unable to find - after several hours of searching - a recording of this to share with you. Altho this was the second musical composition commissioned by the Boston Symphony Orchestra to win the Pulitzer - the first one performed again in several encore presentations and a recording made, the only logical explanation I can personally accept for the lack of promotion for "Lilacs" is that today's marketplace does not support contemporary classical music.
Mike Wallace, I believe it was, conducted what must have been (certainly sounded like!) an obligatory and somewhat distasteful interview following the Pulitzer announcement. I'd share it with you, but it upsets me. Many interruptions, sometimes mid-word. Disgraceful! The only reason I'm even talking about it now is that it did provide a little background and insight into some of Dr. Walker's thought processes while composing the piece.
Another blogger friend of mine, Steve, intends to do a post on Abraham Lincoln a bit later this month. I'll link it for you when he publishes. This should tie in quite nicely with his, I would think.
The best link I could find to read more about Dr. Walker is this one. There were many citations in Wiki and other locations where I tried to dig a little deeper, but most that I tried to follow were either deadends or of little consequence.
I'm feeling more than a little frustrated and inadequate with this post, but am going to hit "Publish" before another minute goes by.
Friday, February 6, 2009
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Colored memories
In the movie, "On Golden Pond", Katharine Hepburn had just a wonderful line that went (something like), "Sometimes you have to look really HARD at a person to know that they're doing the best they can."
Tammy, in her response to a comment on one of her recent posts on memories of her father, said -- I guess I'm going to just have to copy almost all of her response here, because it's really important --
Actually, what's really funny is I haven't had the best relationship with my parents! I felt for a long time that there was nothing I wanted to remember, but have been pleasantly surprised with various memories popping up here and there. I want to get them all down on paper 'so to speak' and see what else comes to mind.
I've spent so long feeling angry that my dad was never around for me and my brother, and am thinking perhaps he was just trying to do the best for us that he knew how.
[Ding ding ding! Does that line of Katharine Hepburn's ring a resounding bell?]
I'm also thinking that I need to forgive and start looking ahead instead of behind. He's so good with my kids and I'd really like a relationship with him, too.
My daughter and I had kind of an interesting discussion the other day about parenting, relationships, and the like. She was brought up under Dr. Spock's guidelines ... any of you from 'way back when' remember that name?
This conversation came about because she told me that, after having just dropped her daughter off for an overnight at a friend's house the night before, when she went to pick her up the next day she had trouble recognizing her!
Mostly said in jest, of course, but the 'times' today are so diverse and complex that it can sometimes seem as tho a whole other century has passed since you last saw one another!
I am reminded of a story I heard many years ago. I don't know if it's true or not, but here it is. I'll let you decide its veracity.
One of the townspeople's older generation died. He had not been well-loved. In fact, he had long been known as one of the most nasty critters (human-wise) that God had ever produced. No one in town had ever had a kind word to say about him. NO one!
There lived, however, in this town a gentle lady who had never been known to say an unkind word about anyone. In fact, when someone of even the slightest ill-repute passed on, she could almost always be counted on to say something positive.
Well, when this (by consensus) nasty/ugly/evil man passed on to 'his reward', the townspeople waited to hear what words she might possibly be able to cull from her positive memory banks to try and describe this person.
Silence. Days passed. She said nothing. Weeks passed. She volunteered no statement yea or nay. FInally, in a fit of utter exasperation, she was asked directly, "Well, what did you think of old so and so?"
And after a VERY long pause, she finally came out with, "Well, he had a nice whistle!"
Tammy, in her response to a comment on one of her recent posts on memories of her father, said -- I guess I'm going to just have to copy almost all of her response here, because it's really important --
Actually, what's really funny is I haven't had the best relationship with my parents! I felt for a long time that there was nothing I wanted to remember, but have been pleasantly surprised with various memories popping up here and there. I want to get them all down on paper 'so to speak' and see what else comes to mind.
I've spent so long feeling angry that my dad was never around for me and my brother, and am thinking perhaps he was just trying to do the best for us that he knew how.
[Ding ding ding! Does that line of Katharine Hepburn's ring a resounding bell?]
I'm also thinking that I need to forgive and start looking ahead instead of behind. He's so good with my kids and I'd really like a relationship with him, too.
My daughter and I had kind of an interesting discussion the other day about parenting, relationships, and the like. She was brought up under Dr. Spock's guidelines ... any of you from 'way back when' remember that name?
This conversation came about because she told me that, after having just dropped her daughter off for an overnight at a friend's house the night before, when she went to pick her up the next day she had trouble recognizing her!
Mostly said in jest, of course, but the 'times' today are so diverse and complex that it can sometimes seem as tho a whole other century has passed since you last saw one another!
I am reminded of a story I heard many years ago. I don't know if it's true or not, but here it is. I'll let you decide its veracity.
One of the townspeople's older generation died. He had not been well-loved. In fact, he had long been known as one of the most nasty critters (human-wise) that God had ever produced. No one in town had ever had a kind word to say about him. NO one!
There lived, however, in this town a gentle lady who had never been known to say an unkind word about anyone. In fact, when someone of even the slightest ill-repute passed on, she could almost always be counted on to say something positive.
Well, when this (by consensus) nasty/ugly/evil man passed on to 'his reward', the townspeople waited to hear what words she might possibly be able to cull from her positive memory banks to try and describe this person.
Silence. Days passed. She said nothing. Weeks passed. She volunteered no statement yea or nay. FInally, in a fit of utter exasperation, she was asked directly, "Well, what did you think of old so and so?"
And after a VERY long pause, she finally came out with, "Well, he had a nice whistle!"
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Lady judge rules defendant's actions "Justifiable" ...
... and throws out case.
In a landmark decision yesterday, the judge ruled in a case that had come to be known as "The Mammogram Strikes Back!"
Here is the defendant's testimony, taken directly from court records ... ...
I actually kept my mammogram appointment.
I was met with, "Hi! I'm Belinda!"
This perky clipboard carrier smiled from ear to ear, tilted her head to one side and crooned, "All I need you to do is step into this room right here, strip to the waist, and slip on this gown. Everything clear?" She then skipped away to prepare the chamber of horrors.
I'm thinking, "Belinda, try decaf. This ain't rocket science!"
With the right side finished, Belinda flipped me to the left - literally - and said, "Hmmmmm. Can you stand on your tippy toes and lean in a tad so we can get everything?"
"Fine," I answered. I was freezing, bruised, and out of air, so I thought, "Why not use the remaining circulation in my legs and neck to try and finish me off?"
My body was in a holding pattern that defied gravity - one part of my left side now firmly wedged between two 4" square pieces of glass - when we first heard, then felt a 'zap' followed by complete darkness as the power went off.
"Maintenance is working," she said as she headed for the door. "They must have hit a snag."
"Excuse me!" I shouted. "You're not going to leave me in this vise all alone, are you?"
As she made her exit I heard her say, "Oh, you fussy puppy! The door's wide open, so you'll have the emergency hall lights. I'll be right back."
And before I could scream, "NOOOOO!!" she was gone.
That's exactly how Bubba and Earl, maintenance men extraordinaire, found me ... half-naked, one part wedged in the "jaws of life" and the rest of me dangling.
After exchanging polite "Hi! Howzit goin'?" greetings, Bubba (or possibly Earl) asked, to my utter disbelief, if I knew the power was off.
Trying to disguise what was now mounting hysteria, I replied as calmly as I could, "Uh, yes. Yes, I did, thanks!"
"You bet. Take care!" Bubba replied as he made his exit.
Two hours later Brenda breezed in wearing a sheepish grin. Making no attempt to suppress her amusement, she said, "Oh, I am sooo sorry! The power came back on and I totally forgot about you! And silly me, I went to lunch. Are we upset?"
And that, Your Honor, is the story behind how her head ended up between the clamps.
I am going to label this "Jokes", but I can ALmost see such a thing actually happening, and then it would not be nearly as funny, would it?
My time for blogging is going to be quite limited the next couple of days, so I thought I'd at least get this one out there - thanking Jennie for her e-mail, which prompted this post - before I depart the house to get the car washed and then go on up to IAH to pick up one of my regular and long-timey cancer patient taxicab customers.
This time, tho, I get the opportunity to meet his wife and one of his grandchildren! How very special!! Tomorrow morning I'll be picking her and their grandson up to take them down to NASA. While the two of them are enjoying their tour, I plan to go on over to Kemah - less than ten minutes away - to ascertain for myself what's really open for business there in the aftermath of Ike.
Talk to you later. Have to go now!
In a landmark decision yesterday, the judge ruled in a case that had come to be known as "The Mammogram Strikes Back!"
Here is the defendant's testimony, taken directly from court records ... ...
I actually kept my mammogram appointment.
I was met with, "Hi! I'm Belinda!"
This perky clipboard carrier smiled from ear to ear, tilted her head to one side and crooned, "All I need you to do is step into this room right here, strip to the waist, and slip on this gown. Everything clear?" She then skipped away to prepare the chamber of horrors.
I'm thinking, "Belinda, try decaf. This ain't rocket science!"
With the right side finished, Belinda flipped me to the left - literally - and said, "Hmmmmm. Can you stand on your tippy toes and lean in a tad so we can get everything?"
"Fine," I answered. I was freezing, bruised, and out of air, so I thought, "Why not use the remaining circulation in my legs and neck to try and finish me off?"
My body was in a holding pattern that defied gravity - one part of my left side now firmly wedged between two 4" square pieces of glass - when we first heard, then felt a 'zap' followed by complete darkness as the power went off.
"Maintenance is working," she said as she headed for the door. "They must have hit a snag."
"Excuse me!" I shouted. "You're not going to leave me in this vise all alone, are you?"
As she made her exit I heard her say, "Oh, you fussy puppy! The door's wide open, so you'll have the emergency hall lights. I'll be right back."
And before I could scream, "NOOOOO!!" she was gone.
That's exactly how Bubba and Earl, maintenance men extraordinaire, found me ... half-naked, one part wedged in the "jaws of life" and the rest of me dangling.
After exchanging polite "Hi! Howzit goin'?" greetings, Bubba (or possibly Earl) asked, to my utter disbelief, if I knew the power was off.
Trying to disguise what was now mounting hysteria, I replied as calmly as I could, "Uh, yes. Yes, I did, thanks!"
"You bet. Take care!" Bubba replied as he made his exit.
Two hours later Brenda breezed in wearing a sheepish grin. Making no attempt to suppress her amusement, she said, "Oh, I am sooo sorry! The power came back on and I totally forgot about you! And silly me, I went to lunch. Are we upset?"
And that, Your Honor, is the story behind how her head ended up between the clamps.
I am going to label this "Jokes", but I can ALmost see such a thing actually happening, and then it would not be nearly as funny, would it?
My time for blogging is going to be quite limited the next couple of days, so I thought I'd at least get this one out there - thanking Jennie for her e-mail, which prompted this post - before I depart the house to get the car washed and then go on up to IAH to pick up one of my regular and long-timey cancer patient taxicab customers.
This time, tho, I get the opportunity to meet his wife and one of his grandchildren! How very special!! Tomorrow morning I'll be picking her and their grandson up to take them down to NASA. While the two of them are enjoying their tour, I plan to go on over to Kemah - less than ten minutes away - to ascertain for myself what's really open for business there in the aftermath of Ike.
Talk to you later. Have to go now!
Monday, February 2, 2009
Pilling cats 101
Serendipity, my beloved pet of many years, was a typical cat in some ways, atypical in others. I have published over 400 times now, but only five of those - this will be the 6th - have been labeled "Love". Four are based on my own memories. This one poignantly describes the loss I felt when she died - almost fourteen years ago now - on February 14, 1995.
I remember one time - this would have been in the mid-80's - when I was petting her, and she reacted (not violently - she never reacted violently with me, but it seemed like she was trying to pull away from my touch) as tho I was hurting her.
Handling her most carefully, I began the slow process of examining her body all over to try and ascertain where the problem area might be. I found it! A wound, ulcerated and oozing. It almost looked as tho she had been 'stabbed' in the side.
Sick at heart, I took her to the vet, who - after a thorough examination - told me that she had been bitten by a dog. And it would have been a big dog, she said. Pills were prescribed along with an antibiotic salve, which had to be administered directly into the open wound at least once a day.
Ugh, I thought! The pills I could probably handle. I mean, you force the cat's mouth open, shove the pill in, and then hold the mouth closed - all the while massaging the throat until all gagging has stopped and it appears obvious that the 'vile object' has been ingested. That's all there is to it, right? Easier said than done, of course!
The salve was a whole other ball game, it seemed to me. The vet assured me that Serendipity would allow it. And so we went back home. Pills were administered - forcefully, but successfully. Salve was not only tolerated but (seemingly) welcomed until one day she simply would not lie still for any of it!
I called the vet with my concern and she said that my cat would somehow instinctively have known when the treatments/medications should stop. Serendipity was right. Vet was right. I was needlessly concerned.
So what did I know? I was only a human pet owner, for crying out loud!
Now, the rest of this post is very much tongue-in-cheek, and is courtesy of my friend Jennie. Thank you, Jennie! The subject is "How to give pills to cats and dogs" ... ...
CATS:
1. Pick cat up and cradle it in the crook of your left arm as if holding a baby. Position right forefinger and thumb on either side of cat's mouth and gently apply pressure to cheeks while holding pill in right hand. As cat opens mouth, pop pill into mouth. Allow cat to close mouth and swallow.
2. Remove pill from floor and cat from behind sofa. Cradle cat in left arm and repeat process.
3. Retrieve cat from bedroom and throw soggy pill away.
4. Take new pill from foil wrap, cradle cat in left arm holding rear paws tightly with left hand. Force jaws open and push pill to back of mouth with right forefinger. Hold mouth shut for a count of ten.
5. Remove pill from goldfish bowl and cat from top of wardrobe. Call spouse from garden.
6. Kneel on floor with cat wedged firmly between knees while holding cat's front and rear paws. Ignore low growls emitted by cat. Get spouse to hold cat's head firmly with one hand while forcing wooden ruler into its mouth. Drop pill down ruler and rub cat's throat vigorously.
7. Remove cat from curtain rail. Get another pill from foil wrap. Make note to buy new ruler and repair curtains. Carefully sweep shattered figures and vases from hearth and set to one side for gluing later.
8. Wrap cat in large towel and get spouse to lie on cat with head just visible from below armpit. Put pill in end of drinking straw, force mouth open with pencil and blow down drinking straw.
9. Check label to make sure pill is not harmful to humans. Drink one beer to take taste away. Apply Band-Aid to spouse's forearm and remove blood from carpet with cold water and soap.
10. Retrieve cat from neighbor's shed. Get another pill. Open another beer. Place cat in cupboard and close door onto neck to leave head showing. Force mouth open with dessert spoon. Flick pill down throat with elastic band.
11. Fetch screwdriver from garage and put cupboard door back on hinges. Drink beer. Fetch bottle of Scotch. Pour shot, drink. Apply cold compress to cheek and check records for date of last tetanus jab. Apply whiskey compress to cheek to disinfect. Toss back another shot. Throw away shredded T-shirt and fetch new one from bedroom.
12. Ring fire brigade to retrieve the friggin' cat from tree across the road. Apologize to the neighbor who crashed into fence while swerving to avoid cat. Take last pill from foil wrap.
13. Tie the little bugger's front paws to rear paws with garden twine and bind tightly to leg of dining room table. Find heavy-duty pruning gloves from shed. Push pill into mouth followed by large piece of fillet steak. Be rough about it. Hold head vertically and pour two pints of water down throat to wash pill down.
14. Consume remainder of Scotch. Get spouse to drive you to the emergency room. Sit quietly while the doctor stitches fingers and forearm and removes pill remnants from right eye. Call furniture shop on way home to order new table.
15. Arrange for SPCA to collect "mutant cat from hell" and ring local pet shop to see if they have any hamsters.
DOGS:
Wrap pill in bacon, drop on floor.
I remember one time - this would have been in the mid-80's - when I was petting her, and she reacted (not violently - she never reacted violently with me, but it seemed like she was trying to pull away from my touch) as tho I was hurting her.
Handling her most carefully, I began the slow process of examining her body all over to try and ascertain where the problem area might be. I found it! A wound, ulcerated and oozing. It almost looked as tho she had been 'stabbed' in the side.
Sick at heart, I took her to the vet, who - after a thorough examination - told me that she had been bitten by a dog. And it would have been a big dog, she said. Pills were prescribed along with an antibiotic salve, which had to be administered directly into the open wound at least once a day.
Ugh, I thought! The pills I could probably handle. I mean, you force the cat's mouth open, shove the pill in, and then hold the mouth closed - all the while massaging the throat until all gagging has stopped and it appears obvious that the 'vile object' has been ingested. That's all there is to it, right? Easier said than done, of course!
The salve was a whole other ball game, it seemed to me. The vet assured me that Serendipity would allow it. And so we went back home. Pills were administered - forcefully, but successfully. Salve was not only tolerated but (seemingly) welcomed until one day she simply would not lie still for any of it!
I called the vet with my concern and she said that my cat would somehow instinctively have known when the treatments/medications should stop. Serendipity was right. Vet was right. I was needlessly concerned.
So what did I know? I was only a human pet owner, for crying out loud!
Now, the rest of this post is very much tongue-in-cheek, and is courtesy of my friend Jennie. Thank you, Jennie! The subject is "How to give pills to cats and dogs" ... ...
CATS:
1. Pick cat up and cradle it in the crook of your left arm as if holding a baby. Position right forefinger and thumb on either side of cat's mouth and gently apply pressure to cheeks while holding pill in right hand. As cat opens mouth, pop pill into mouth. Allow cat to close mouth and swallow.
2. Remove pill from floor and cat from behind sofa. Cradle cat in left arm and repeat process.
3. Retrieve cat from bedroom and throw soggy pill away.
4. Take new pill from foil wrap, cradle cat in left arm holding rear paws tightly with left hand. Force jaws open and push pill to back of mouth with right forefinger. Hold mouth shut for a count of ten.
5. Remove pill from goldfish bowl and cat from top of wardrobe. Call spouse from garden.
6. Kneel on floor with cat wedged firmly between knees while holding cat's front and rear paws. Ignore low growls emitted by cat. Get spouse to hold cat's head firmly with one hand while forcing wooden ruler into its mouth. Drop pill down ruler and rub cat's throat vigorously.
7. Remove cat from curtain rail. Get another pill from foil wrap. Make note to buy new ruler and repair curtains. Carefully sweep shattered figures and vases from hearth and set to one side for gluing later.
8. Wrap cat in large towel and get spouse to lie on cat with head just visible from below armpit. Put pill in end of drinking straw, force mouth open with pencil and blow down drinking straw.
9. Check label to make sure pill is not harmful to humans. Drink one beer to take taste away. Apply Band-Aid to spouse's forearm and remove blood from carpet with cold water and soap.
10. Retrieve cat from neighbor's shed. Get another pill. Open another beer. Place cat in cupboard and close door onto neck to leave head showing. Force mouth open with dessert spoon. Flick pill down throat with elastic band.
11. Fetch screwdriver from garage and put cupboard door back on hinges. Drink beer. Fetch bottle of Scotch. Pour shot, drink. Apply cold compress to cheek and check records for date of last tetanus jab. Apply whiskey compress to cheek to disinfect. Toss back another shot. Throw away shredded T-shirt and fetch new one from bedroom.
12. Ring fire brigade to retrieve the friggin' cat from tree across the road. Apologize to the neighbor who crashed into fence while swerving to avoid cat. Take last pill from foil wrap.
13. Tie the little bugger's front paws to rear paws with garden twine and bind tightly to leg of dining room table. Find heavy-duty pruning gloves from shed. Push pill into mouth followed by large piece of fillet steak. Be rough about it. Hold head vertically and pour two pints of water down throat to wash pill down.
14. Consume remainder of Scotch. Get spouse to drive you to the emergency room. Sit quietly while the doctor stitches fingers and forearm and removes pill remnants from right eye. Call furniture shop on way home to order new table.
15. Arrange for SPCA to collect "mutant cat from hell" and ring local pet shop to see if they have any hamsters.
DOGS:
Wrap pill in bacon, drop on floor.
Groundhog Day
Well, as usual this morning, Punxatawney Phil woke up from his hibernation long enough to cast his shadow, thus announcing to one and all that there would be six more weeks of winter.
That announcement was immediately drowned out by a long and loud chorus of boos from the enthusiastic crowd, which just moments before had been wildly cheering for their Pittsburgh Steelers.
Did any of you watch the Super Bowl? I'm a baseball nut, but did happen to tune the game in just as that 100-yard return of an interception occurred. I called my daughter expressing my joy over just witnessing such a fantastic play and was met with this awesome silence on the other end.
I had remembered that she and her husband were at opposite ends of the betting scale for this game, but had forgotten which team she was rooting for. I wonder if they're speaking this morning. That must have been some kind of wild 4th quarter!
[I just called her to find out if they're speaking and she said, "Well, he's not up yet, so we're not speaking." Rrvit!]
She said that the Steelers played dirty. I acknowledged that they have long been known for same. But when she added that the Cardinals played with finesse* and grace, that's where I drew the line.
We had some exchanges about how the game of football basically involves these guys pounding one another and then running for their lives, but I remember - way back when - Joe Namath quarterbacking the Jets. Remember those gimpy knees? Remember how well he was protected in the backfield until he could release the ball?
Maybe it's just my imagination, but I can still see him receiving the snap and then tiptoeing and pirouetting around to ballet music - all the action slowed way down - while bodies were slowly flying through the air all around him.
Did that really happen? I prefer to think that it did. Certainly makes for a better story!
*She didn't say 'finesse'. I took some literary license here.
That announcement was immediately drowned out by a long and loud chorus of boos from the enthusiastic crowd, which just moments before had been wildly cheering for their Pittsburgh Steelers.
Did any of you watch the Super Bowl? I'm a baseball nut, but did happen to tune the game in just as that 100-yard return of an interception occurred. I called my daughter expressing my joy over just witnessing such a fantastic play and was met with this awesome silence on the other end.
I had remembered that she and her husband were at opposite ends of the betting scale for this game, but had forgotten which team she was rooting for. I wonder if they're speaking this morning. That must have been some kind of wild 4th quarter!
[I just called her to find out if they're speaking and she said, "Well, he's not up yet, so we're not speaking." Rrvit!]
She said that the Steelers played dirty. I acknowledged that they have long been known for same. But when she added that the Cardinals played with finesse* and grace, that's where I drew the line.
We had some exchanges about how the game of football basically involves these guys pounding one another and then running for their lives, but I remember - way back when - Joe Namath quarterbacking the Jets. Remember those gimpy knees? Remember how well he was protected in the backfield until he could release the ball?
Maybe it's just my imagination, but I can still see him receiving the snap and then tiptoeing and pirouetting around to ballet music - all the action slowed way down - while bodies were slowly flying through the air all around him.
Did that really happen? I prefer to think that it did. Certainly makes for a better story!
*She didn't say 'finesse'. I took some literary license here.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
The auroral corona over Norway
The latest Astronomy Picture of the Day, seen here ...
... as usual, just took my breath away.
I by no means want to detract from what took a while to compose ... ... I'm talking about what I just published, for crying out loud!
It's just that, after having published my "balancing the checkbook" post, I thought I had some time to just leisurely peruse through some of my favorites and then I'd check back with all y'all again tomorrow sometime (or whenever).
I was mistaken, for perhaps the 400 gazillionth time. I simply could not let this one go by without telling all of you about it. If you'd like to read more about this photo, please go here.
... as usual, just took my breath away.
I by no means want to detract from what took a while to compose ... ... I'm talking about what I just published, for crying out loud!
It's just that, after having published my "balancing the checkbook" post, I thought I had some time to just leisurely peruse through some of my favorites and then I'd check back with all y'all again tomorrow sometime (or whenever).
I was mistaken, for perhaps the 400 gazillionth time. I simply could not let this one go by without telling all of you about it. If you'd like to read more about this photo, please go here.
Balancing the checkbook
The very first time I ever tried to balance a checkbook would have been in February of 1959.
We were living in the Portage Lake Cabins, described pretty vividly here. Actually, this post was the middle of a five-part series that concluded with this one just a day or so later. If you didn't happen to catch any of these, you might enjoy reading them from the very beginning.
For today, tho, my focus will be on the tiny 'cabin' we had. As I said in that first linked post, we had just the two rooms. I would have been working at the kitchen table - yes, the very same one that John finally decided he'd have to crawl under to get to the bathroom! - with my first-ever checkbook balancing activities. My husband would have been sitting at a plywood-type 'desk' (shelf, actually!) that was only minimally supported in the other room, studying.
Why had I never balanced a checkbook? Well, I'd never had a checkbook whose account I had to try and balance is the immediately obvious answer, and it's the truth!
As a kid, we'd had "allowances" - Do those still even exist nowadays? - of 50 cents or so a week, I forget the exact amount, but that's probably about right. We were expected to do certain chores to 'earn' our allowance. We would have had our piggybanks, our Christmas savings accounts, our savings bonds ... ... those things I only vaguely remember. (My folks kept track of everything.)
Then, when I went away to college, there must have been some sort of student account on campus that my folks would have set up for me. I do not remember ever having any great sums of money on me at any one time, and so I must have had local access to a few dollars if/when I needed them.
ANYway, I had never had a checkbook to balance. This would have been my very first ever 'go round' with such an activity.
And so there I was, sweating like a stuck pig in the middle of a very cold winter, trying my darndest (and my best 'darndest' was feeble, to put it mildly!) to balance what was now "our" checking account.
I couldn't get it to balance! I went back to the beginning and tried again. Another time, another, and yet one more. I could not get it to balance!!
I was almost frantic with worry. Money was tight! I mean, it squeaked, it was so tight!!
Finally I called out to my husband - in the most timid way one can possibly imagine, "Honey? Does it matter if you're a 'few dollars' off?"
Big long silence.
"How many dollars off?"
I could barely whimper, "$60."
I wanted to disappear completely. We couldn't afford to be sixty cents off, much less sixty dollars!
We were living in the Portage Lake Cabins, described pretty vividly here. Actually, this post was the middle of a five-part series that concluded with this one just a day or so later. If you didn't happen to catch any of these, you might enjoy reading them from the very beginning.
For today, tho, my focus will be on the tiny 'cabin' we had. As I said in that first linked post, we had just the two rooms. I would have been working at the kitchen table - yes, the very same one that John finally decided he'd have to crawl under to get to the bathroom! - with my first-ever checkbook balancing activities. My husband would have been sitting at a plywood-type 'desk' (shelf, actually!) that was only minimally supported in the other room, studying.
Why had I never balanced a checkbook? Well, I'd never had a checkbook whose account I had to try and balance is the immediately obvious answer, and it's the truth!
As a kid, we'd had "allowances" - Do those still even exist nowadays? - of 50 cents or so a week, I forget the exact amount, but that's probably about right. We were expected to do certain chores to 'earn' our allowance. We would have had our piggybanks, our Christmas savings accounts, our savings bonds ... ... those things I only vaguely remember. (My folks kept track of everything.)
Then, when I went away to college, there must have been some sort of student account on campus that my folks would have set up for me. I do not remember ever having any great sums of money on me at any one time, and so I must have had local access to a few dollars if/when I needed them.
ANYway, I had never had a checkbook to balance. This would have been my very first ever 'go round' with such an activity.
And so there I was, sweating like a stuck pig in the middle of a very cold winter, trying my darndest (and my best 'darndest' was feeble, to put it mildly!) to balance what was now "our" checking account.
I couldn't get it to balance! I went back to the beginning and tried again. Another time, another, and yet one more. I could not get it to balance!!
I was almost frantic with worry. Money was tight! I mean, it squeaked, it was so tight!!
Finally I called out to my husband - in the most timid way one can possibly imagine, "Honey? Does it matter if you're a 'few dollars' off?"
Big long silence.
"How many dollars off?"
I could barely whimper, "$60."
I wanted to disappear completely. We couldn't afford to be sixty cents off, much less sixty dollars!
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