Personal Reflections on MLK Day

It was the winter in 1967 when my Dad was stationed at Andrews Air Force Base Maryland, outside of Washington, D.C.   The previous 10 yrs he had been stationed on military bases overseas where my fundamental years began.  I lived with, went to school with and played with kids from all ethnic backgrounds. Where we lived, where we shopped, where we went the movies, the bowling alleys, went swimming, and so forth, and it didn’t matter. Everyone mixed together and it was acceptable. It never dawned on me that this wasn’t normal. I mean normal by my extended family’s standards back in the southern States.

In the spring of 1968 people in Washington, D.C. there very volatile. There were riots in D.C, fires being set to buildings, marches and a demonstration call Resurrection City. The adults in my extended family from Virginia, who lived on the other side of the Potomac River, would talk.  I would hear some of the most hateful remarks. “That n**g*r preacher is stirring up all kinds of non-sense.” “Good, I am glad he got shot, maybe now those n**g*rs will settle down and go back home.”  I remember during the 6 weeks of the Resurrection City demonstration it rained and rained. The news talked about the health issues and the outbreak of disease “these people” bring.  The most hateful comment of all I heard, “This rain is God’s way to get rid of these n**g*rs”

In my young heart I knew these attitudes were not right. I dared to ask,” Why don’t we like them?” “Why can’t I be friends with them?” “Why do we have separate schools?”  The answer was, “They are not our kind and get those thoughts out of your mind.” I was sent to live with my Grandparents in North Carolina where I wouldn’t have all the Northern influences. What they failed to realize was my influences were already set from my fundamental years.

Dr. Martin Luther King’s peaceful demonstration of Resurrection City brought the most impressive memory for me of those times. The perseverance, strength, conviction, fearlessness and peacefulness it took to endure that all men are created equal.

“All men are created equal, that they are endowed by their creator with certain unalienable rights that among these are Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness.”   Declaration of Independence

Mailbox verses Snowplow

The month of April brings a hugh sigh of relief, Winter is over.  The snow is melted and buds are ready to burst everywhere.  I paid attention one day to Winter's collateral damage...the mail box.  They are leaning, broken, laying in the ditch and missing all together.  I fell victim last Winter when a snowplow launched my mail box into the middle of my front yard.   I am sure there is a calulation on, if the snowplow goes at X miles an hours and the blade is at Y angle  = velocity.  All I know it is the flying snow is strong enough to produce the scenes I have documented.

This  is of my mailbox  after being blown away by the snowplow.  Oh yeah, the salt from years of snow removal did a nice job on the paint.

Most  mailboxes sit on the road with a traumatized lean.

This is just plain pitiful. 

Last year I learn from the Post Office Nazi  that I have to have a mailbox.  Really, it is Winter and the ground if frozen.  When I asked for advice  I was told to get a 5 gallon bucket and fill it with sand.  Oh yeah, that worked.  I spent the remaining Winter picking up my mailbox and setting it back by the road.  Some of my neighbors used a 50 gallon drum.. it works so well they keep all year round. 

This looks like the David and Goliath of the mailboxes.  David is not looking so good.  This is what happens when you use  5 gallon drum.

It is interesting to see how people try dealing with the snow velocity.  Actually, I am thinking a good Spring rain storm and this mailbox is toast.

This apparently works because in all the 10 years I have live in Ozaukee County this mailbox has never moved.

You have to love it, "I dare you" approach.  Classific, a target.

This is my mailbox here at the ranch.  My new approach is a break away post.  The hope is, when the snowplow comes down the road winging snow at breakneck velocity, only the top will take the brunt.  In the dead of Winter it will be easier to brace the mailbox back on.   This Winter past without incidence  and I didn't have to test the theory.   I am proud to say my mailbox has the best posture on the road. 
 

Run Bambi Run

Can't explain it but I have been haunted by Lawrencia's sentence of guilty.   The summer of 1979 my boyfriend took me to a picnic in Lincoln Park.  A friend of his owned the Tracks and this was the second year for his bar’s picnic. My boyfriend was very excited and said it would be fun and I wouldn't believe was I would see.  He was correct I didn’t believe what I saw.  There were lots of drinking, pot smoking, loud music and wet t-shirt contests.  One of the contests was about to begin just as we arrived.  People were putting together picnic tables to be used as a runway.  There was a big crowd gathering around.  T-shirts (white) were given to the woman who volunteered for the contest.  Once they were wet they would strut up and down the tables gyrating in response to the crowd.  While this was going I was looking around at the whole situation.  When I looked behind me there were three Milwaukee City Police cars and the Officers were sitting on the hoods.  The crowd was just wild and the woman who got naked was the winner.  While this woman was naked I turned to see what the police were doing?  Were they coming?  Would I be arrested for being at a picnic where there were drugs and nudity?  It was strange because the police were doing nothing.  They were enjoying the naked woman just like everyone else.   Later the guys had their turn and had a wet jock contest….guess who was the winner?   The Shepherd Express published this article in the late 80's.  As the Milwaukee Police Officers were watching one of their brothers was struting his stuff.

I always believed Lawrencia was innocent.  Enjoy the article.

Gardening at the Ranch

Last summer was my first attempt at growing a vegetable garden.  The first lesson I learned, when you have a 10 x 10 area you need to carefully estimate space needed.  I planted pole beans, three types of tomatoes, cucumbers, broccoli, brussel sprouts and okra.  There was a turf war and the  dominating plants were tomatoes, cucumbers, and pole beans and they choked out all the others.  However, I ran blocker for the okra and it was on the survivor list.

This year I kept it simple and have one tomato plant, one pole bean, and the rest of the space is for the okra.  If you know me you know I LOVE okra.   When I lived with my grandparents in Waynesville, NC Paw Galloway  introduced me to okra from the garden and Maw Galloway taught me how to prepare it.  It has been my favorite vegetable ever since. 

In Wisconsin we have a shorter growing season and last year my yield of okra was small.   This year I started my seeds in the house on the window sill and transplanted outside mid-May.  Yes, I know this was risky as we are still susceptible to frost.  It is July now and I  have a lush little crop.

The okra begins with a pretty flower and when it  falls off  the buds begins to grow.

My little helper dove in to help Grandma find some okra.  I wondered what the view was like for him under the  canopy of leaves so I went under myself.  How very cool, the canopy of  leaves made a cozy little hideaway.  Shortly after he surfaced with an okra in hand!!

The harvest is a little lean right now so, I cut it up, coat it with cornmeal and put it in the freezer till I have enough for a meal.   In a couple of weeks I will have a bushel of okra ....  dinner on Sunday is at 1:00, see you then.

My little helper.

It's a Centipede!!!

Many years ago I lived in the Bayview and always snickered passing by Marino’s Bar.  There were retired patrons who would meet there and commiserate about the issue of the day.  Each week they would come up with a little rhyming ditty.  One week the ditty was,” If Noah was so wise then why did he save those two flies”?   I have to ask that question but exchange fly for centipede.  There is nothing that can strike such a level of fear, disgust and panic as this one simple bug.  I mean I moved from the South where I was exposed to lizards, snakes, water moccasins, tree frogs, palmetto bugs, alligators and the such.  None of those things compare to an encounter with a centipede.


This morning I had coffee, chatted on the phone, pursued the job boards and then went off to get ready for the day.  I went to my bedroom and spent some time selecting what I was gonna wear for the day (get over it, it is a girl thing).  I have a master bathroom so I went in to take my shower.  I always enjoy a nice long hot shower and spent some time lully-gagging.  I ended my shower, wrapped my hair in a towel and stepped out.   THERE IT WAS!!  Straight across the room on the wall up by the ceiling with the window and curtains just below it.  It was a centipede!  I dropped my towel and ran naked throw the house to get the fly swatter from the kitchen (Yes, the blinds were up).  I got the fly swatter and luckily the damn thing was still where I left it.  I moved the bed away from the wall but not to far that I couldn’t reach and kill it.  I made sure I positioned the fly swatter in front of it because they move very quickly.  I am so nervous that I will miss it and it will either fall onto my bed or God forbid on me!  I am naked I have to have those thoughts.  I aimed and with all my might I swatted and I GOT IT!!!!  I think.  I looked on  top of the window frame and saw nothing.  I shook the curtains and nothing.  OH NO! Did I miss it?  I did a little gig on the bed, afraid to move and at that time the wind blew the curtain past the window sill.  There it was.  My swat had blown off all its little legs and left a mangled up body on the sill.  I scrapped it off onto the floor with the fly swatter and went to get the cat to eat the thing.   Which, by the way, if one is in my bathtub I go get the cat, put her in the tub and she takes care of it for me.     Good Kitty.

My Favorite Summer Solstice

My Dad was stationed in Reykjavik, Iceland during the Vietnam War participating in ocean surveillance.   This is old technology for listening and identifying enemy ships, types and locations.   While as a child I didn’t know what he did  nor did I care,  I was having too much fun being a kid in a foreign land.   I have many wonderful memories and the one  that comes to mind is living in the land of the midnight sun.   It was so cool to be out playing kickball, jumping rope, and hanging out with friends on the playground at 10:00PM with the sun is bright in the sky.   The day before, the day of, and the day after the Summer Solstice the sun never set.   It would be a constant sunset for a couple of hours and the sun would be back up for a sunny 1:30AM.   This provided way more time to enjoy summer vacation before school started again.

However, my Mother hated it because she couldn't sleep will all the day light so she put tinfoil on her bedroom windows.   It almost blinded the neighbors across the street with the reflection of the sun.   Needless to say, the Winter Solstice was just the opposite and made it  intriguing to be out playing after dark......3:30 in the afternoon.   Very fun times in a foreign land.

Memorial Weekend Road Trip from Hell

Memorial Holiday 2006 I took a drive heading toward home in Waynesville, North Carolina.  It was a beautiful ride and just breezed through Chicago, Indianapolis, Lexington, and was winding my way to Knoxville and then to Waynesville.  Lucy, my pitbull dog, rides along with me when I travel.  She is a great companion and travels well, riding in the back of my SUV with her head resting on my left shoulder. I lay the seats down so she has the entire back of the car.  She was traveling as the princess she is.

I have been making this trip from Milwaukee to Waynesville for over 30 years.  When the kids were younger we would stop at a truck stop about 30 miles North of Knoxville.  The main attraction was the huge firework store next door!  What teenage boy doesn’t like a hand full of M80’s!  Out of tradition I pulled into the truck stop to fill up tank.  Little did I know that this was when my evening was to get real interesting.  After filling up my tank I went into the truck stop to go to the restroom, get a soda and a lottery ticket.  I came back out and scrubbed the bugs off my windshield.  All set, got in the car and turned it on and was ready to continue on my way.  I started the car, put it in Drive and rolled a few feet and the car stalled. Humm. I tried to start it again and it wouldn’t start and rolled and I steered it into a parking spot.

What the… everything had been as smooth as silk, what is going on?  I sat there for a few minutes and tried to start my car again and nothing.  I sat there for a while and tried it again and nothing.  I realize at this point that something was not right. Not that the clues weren’t there when the car stalled and rolled into a parking space.  Duh!  I went to my purse and got out my AAA card and made a call.   After giving them all my information I was told that it would be the standard 45 minute wait till help would arrive.  When I hung up the phone I opened the car door and Lucy and I sat there and waited.  I took inventory of my surroundings….it was dusk; people are coming and going from the truck stop paying me no mind.  I saw a Comfort Inn a little bit down the road and a 24 hour truck repair garage.  I made a few phone calls to my brother, parents, and some friends back in Milwaukee to let them all know of my situation.

An hour and half later a wrecker truck pull up and two men get out.  One is wearing mechanic clothes and the other in dress clothes.  The mechanic gave me a jump and nothing. Then he had me open up the gas cap and listened while I turned the ignition.   Nothing. He came back over to me and said, in his East Tennessee twang “ Weeeellll, ahpeeers yawr gas pump isn’t weerkin andy didn’t breeng ma flatbed.”  We both stood and looked at each other for a minute and I said, ” Your not going to just leave me here are you?”  We both stood there and looked at each other and the guy in dress clothes seemed nervous and like he needed to be somewhere.  The mechanic looked around and saw the 24 hour truck garage.  He called over to them, explained the situation and they said to bring me on over.

I was hooked to the wrecker truck and was taken over to the 24 your truck garage.  Lucy riding in the back of my SUV and me sitting between these two fellows in the front seat of the wrecker truck.  We arrive at the garage and pull into what looks like an airplane hanger.  This place was HUGE.  They unhook me from the wrecker and get back in and drive away.  As I watch them driving away I see a fellow coming out of what appears to be an office.  I took one look at this guy; combat boots, blue jeans, cutout sleeves of a worn denim shirt and a turned around baseball cap.  I immediately got Lucy out of the car (leased) and stood there as this fellow approached.  He looked under the hood and then asked for my owner’s manual.  I knew at that moment that this is not a good sign. After looking through the manual he said,” Ah gota call mu boss, Bob.” Now this is Saturday night on a Memorial weekend and no one is going to be in a hurry to help me out.  This young man called and Bob didn’t answer.  After about 10 minutes Bob calls and says he will be there in an hour.  This event started at 7:00pm and now we are going on 11:00pm. I am getting tired and totally not cool with my situation.  I remembered I saw a Comfort Inn and decided to call them, get a room and deal with this in the morning.

I call over to the Comfort Inn, explained my situation and asked if they had any rooms.  The lady that answered the phone told me they had rooms but they didn’t take dawgs.  I explained my situation again as I might not have made myself clear the first time. I am a lady in distress…stranded and I need a place to stay.  The lady said now with an attitude, “Mam, we don’t take dawgs.”  I am now irritated, tired and hungry and asked to speak with a manager.  “Well Mam I will have ta cawl her at home, hold on.”  She comes back after an extended amount of time and says, “ We don’t take dawgs and we can’t hep you, I’um reeaal sorry.” Ahhhhhh, what the…..?  I call AAA again and bitch about my situation. They asked if I felt safe and I said NO and they offered to call the police for me.  Well, this situation didn’t really warrant the police so I asked then if they could just hurry.

Chet showed up about 30 minutes later.  Chet is a retired over the road trucker and now does roadside assistance.  He had a brand new flatbed truck and said I was the first customer.  Once he got my SUV, with Lucy in the back on her bed, secured onto the flatbed we were all set.  Chet asked me where we were going and I told him to take me to the dealership and gave him the address.  It is now midnight and I have 150 miles left on my trip.  Chet and I got into his cab and I saw right away his chew spit can in the drink holder and thought, Oh Yeah!  He turns on his flashing yellow lights and we take off.  After about 10 minutes I thought I was going to have a seizure with those yellow strobbing lights.  I asked him if the lights bothered him and he said No and he asked, You?  I said yes and he told me to close my eyes.   Nice.

Chet drove through Pigeon Forge on I-40 like he was a race car driver.  I totally kept my eyes closed and just hung on for dear life.  We got to the dealership at 2:30AM and he got my SUV off the flatbed.  AAA only covers 120 miles and we went 150 miles so I owed him money and he wants cash.  We couldn’t have discussed this at the beginning of our little excursion so I could have gone to a ATM at the truck stop…really? Here I am at 2:45am scrounging around my car for enough change to add to my $55.00 to total $60.00 that I owed him. I thought to myself, this could look like a drug deal.  We are now all square and he his leaving and I am standing alone in the dealership parking lot.  Before he left asked him if he could give me a ride to my parent’s house that was within a mile of where we were.  He agreed and I, my luggage, Lucy and Lucy’s crate all crammed ourselves into the cab of the flatbed.  He turned on those damn yellow strobe lights and off we went.  When we turned into the subdivision my parents live in I asked him if he could turn off the lights and he said, he couldn’t it was the law.  Really, in the subdivision at 3:00am...who is going to know.  We arrived at my parents I can only imagine what the neighbors thought.

The dealership was open on Memorial Day and diagnosed my SUV.  My Dad and I went over to the dealership to check on the progress.  The mechanic told me I had a full tank of diesel fuel.   I was speechless.  Diesel fuel?   Really?   How could this be?   I was totally dumb founded. They had to drain my tank, take it out, scrub it and put it back in, costing me $500.00.  Ouch.  The dealership service manager told me when I used up a full tank of gas to put a carburetor cleaner into the gas tank the next time I filled up.

After all this drama I calmed down and had a good visit with the family.  After a week it was time to head back to Wisconsin.  I packed up me and Lucy and off we went with the intention to stop by the truck stop.  I wanted to figure how the hell I put diesel fuel into my vehicle.  I get passed Knoxville and arrive at the truck stop and went to the gas pump I had used.  I couldn’t believe what I saw.  The diesel sticker was on the right of the pump station, which I am familiar with , and the diesel pump was on the left which should be on the right underneath the sticker.  In Wisconsin and every state I traveled through the diesel sticker and pump are both on the right side.  I made my selection and grabbed the first pump not noticing the yellow handle.   After all the regular gas pump is always the first pump on the left.  The nozzle fit in the tank and I pumped away. Now in Wisconsin the diesel nozzle does not fit into a gas tank preventing any mistake.  This the story of how diesel fuel got into my gas tank….I was thinking Wisconsin and not Tennessee.

Lucy and I continued down the road heading back to Wisconsin.  When my tank emptied I stopped to fill it up paying careful attention to which pump I was using.  Just as the service manager at the dealership had recommended I put carburetor cleaner into the gas tank.  Once I was back on the road the cleaner started working and big clouds of white smoke came out of my tail pipe.  I mean this smoke was so thick that I am sure the cars behind me were blinded.  I hope I didn't cause a car pile up!

I am sure there was a moral to this story but I haven’t figured it out yet but it does make for a good story.

Thanks to all those who have served and given their lives for my freedom ..have a happy and “safe” Memorial Week!