Our Thurbie Tree

This story is from many years ago and had been posted to my Stories Page; but I neglected to include a link that would make it easier to find.  I’m posting it again after reading that so many of my friends have recently had to part with a loved four-legged member of their family.

I read where Mover Mike’s dog Amber had died the other day, and he had written a poem while involved in his loss.   We had a dog named Thurbie a while back.  You may be familiar with the works of James Thurber.  He was almost blind and did his work up close, very close.  He drew a picture of a dog, well almost a dog; that was our Thurbie. 

Thurbie was mostly black, low to the ground and he might have had four legs; we were never sure about that.  Thurbie looked more like a black rug that moved around and so we just assumed that he had legs.  We had him for several years, his having shown up like most of the others, after finding the hobo’s “X” on our front door.  We never really knew how old he was, middle aged puppy or there about.   When he died, he took our hearts away with him.  Lucy took him to the vet and he never made it back home.  I went to the local garden store, it being spring, and wanted to buy a dogwood tree to plant in the yard.  I spotted what I thought was a dogwood tree and asked the nurseryman about it.

“Oh, that’s not a dogwood tree at all.   It’s actually a variation of the red bud, only with white flowers.  Some folks call it a “False Dogwood” because it looks so much like one.”

“That’s perfect then, I’m planting it to honor a false dog” how much better could it be.  So, I planted the Thurbie tree in the front yard and each year about this time it comes into bloom, beautiful white flowers that last about a week or so and then blow off to who knows where.  The tree has never flourished much, remaining kind of low to the ground, more like a bush than a tree.  I suppose it’s only right since Thurbie was kind of low to the ground too. 

That tree died and was replaced with an Oak tree that has done much better.

Moscow On The Hudson

 

It’s been a quiet kind of afternoon with Lucy away for the week.  I’d gone into town to pick up a package at the post office which made it convenient to stop in for a haircut prior to heading home.  Being alone isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

Fortunately, we have a nice selection of movies on DVD; I know, only old people still have movies on DVD.  There’s a certain satisfaction that goes along with the tactile ability to hold a piece of plastic, a piece of plastic that contains a movie paid for with hard earned cash.  That can’t be done with ownership of digital information which gives access to that same movie, digital information stored away in a cloud rather than something that takes up a place in your bookshelf.  Where was I?

Looking for a movie that hadn’t been watched in a while, I picked Moscow On The Hudson. Robin Williams stared in this as a saxophone player from Russia.  The circus band he played for was to visit New York City while closely chaperoned by agents of the KGB to prevent individuals from defecting during their short stay.

His character showed the brutal conditions of existence in Moscow for the average person; waiting in long lines to obtain a few rolls of inferior grade toilet paper, long lines to obtain a pair of shoes, and accepting the wrong size if your particular size was no longer available.

In contrast, while shopping at Bloomingdales in New York City, items which we take for granted, these items were plentiful and like candy falling from heaven to those permitted to a thirty-minute shopping spree prior to returning to Moscow.  Sometime during that short visit Robin Williams character’s mind could no longer take being a subject of Russia, the thought of being returned broke upon him and he declared out loud his intention to defect.

Why am I writing about this movie, a movie that didn’t do all that well at the box office when it was released in 1984, a movie that many probably never heard of?  I’m not sure I can put my finger on the exact reason; but it stirred something in my spirit, a darkness of sorts that acted as a warning? 

He attended a swearing in ceremony for citizenship, accompanying a female friend and love interest.  She’d been waiting a little over a year for the opportunity, studying America’s founding documents and history while hoping to qualify for the blessing of citizenship.

Prior to their taking the oath of citizenship the judge, in all solemnity explained to them,

“Ladies and Gentlemen, good morning. Today you will become citizens of the United States of America. No longer are you an Englishman, Italian, a Pole or whatever, neither will you be a hyphenated American. From this day you are no longer a subject of a government, but an integral part of the government, a free man. May you find in this nation the fulfillment of your dreams of Peace and Security and may America in turn never find you wanting in your new proud role of citizen of the United States. Will the petitioners please rise. Now let us take the oath of allegiance.”

Maybe the open borders policy implemented by the current administration which ignores immigration law and a constitutional mandate to enforce those laws, maybe that’s part of what bothered me while watching this movie. I don’t believe individual liberty can coexist with a totalitarian one world order, the sort of imposed government some have planned to replace our constitutional republic.

Could it be the impromptu man-on-the-street type of interviews conducted on the up-and-coming generation, interviews which ask basic questions like, “How many stars are on the American Flag?  What’s the nation’s capital? What year did America declare its independence?  From what country did we declare our independence?  Questions like these for which the individuals had no clue as to a correct answer; could this be what was bothering me as the movie presented such a dark presence?

A little later in the movie, while sitting in a café there’s a minor confrontation with a fellow who’d also come from Russia. Unable to understand why this other fellow doesn’t appear to have a deep appreciation for the opportunities afforded in America, it struck something deep in his soul as he lashed out at him.

“In Moscow we fought for an inch of freedom! Here you take it and pour shit all over it.”

Doesn’t that pretty much sum up how many of us feel about the way our government has treated their constitutional responsibilities?  Maybe it includes a statement about the quality of our public schools.  Is that why I felt tears forming as the movie came and went past my consciousness. 

I don’t expect much will change even if, by some miracle, the right individuals get elected in November.  Thousands of entrenched bureaucrats, those who actually determine laws and how this nation is run, those unelected players will never give up the power they’ve been wielding.

What happened to the America written of by our founders?  Why don’t we have folks in positions of leadership who put American citizen’s best interests ahead of their own selfish interests?  I’d rather be thought of as a fool than give up on what was once written.

“…And for the support of this declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of Divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our lives, our fortunes, and our sacred honor.”

 

 

 

 

Changing a Light Bulb

 

It used to be a simple task to change a light bulb.  If the one in your table lamp quit, unscrew the old one, take a new one out of the box that’s in the cupboard and screw it back in.  That’s it, you’re done.

This morning while preparing a bagel, when I turned on the vent-a-hood light to better see where the pre-cut bagel separation needed to be completed so the two halves of the bagel would slide down into the toaster…where was I, one of the light bulbs in the vent-a-hood had burned out.  I prefer the warm glow given off by the vent-a-hood lights over the cold white given off by the overhead kitchen lights.

I then remembered how much fun it was replacing one of those fancy two pronged bulbs; sarcasm mode engaged. Think about Ralphy in the movie, The Christmas Story, when he was helping his dad change the flat tire when he accidentally lost control of the lug nuts; that same terminology comes to mind.

The vent-a-hood actually came with a specially designed suction cup tool to assist in replacing a light bulb.  If you happen to misplace that tool it could be replaced for about $25.00. Our house is now seven years old; but that replacement tool is a permanent fixture in our Junk Drawer and will be there long after any nuclear explosion has wiped away our civilization. Twenty-five dollars for a suction cup that might cost all of a nickel to make, Geesh!

Lucy was going to be away getting her hair done for the next hour; what better time than now to get this chore out of the way.  I went to the main closet, the one in the den where only the most important stuff is stored, where I knew I’d placed a package of replacement Two-Pronged Light Bulbs, the kind that fit the track lights as well as the vent-a-hood. 

I found two spray nozzle replacements for the outside water hose, three emergency flashlights, four dual purpose screwdriver sets that let you change from Phillips to Flat head; all were unopened and still attached to the cardboard just like we’d seen them at the store.  Not seeing those light bulbs as I dug some more.

I had to move some of the empty ammo boxes out of the way to get a better view of the other junk.  We buy these ammo boxes when Harbor Freight puts them on sale half off; they make for great containers at Christmas gifts for the guys in our family.  You can put their favorite candy bars, bags of pistachios, a small emergency flashlight or even a box of ammo that fits their favorite weapon. That’s when I found a pack of tie down straps, still attached to the cardboard and ready to use.  Hmm, those were supposed to be in the back of my truck.  Still no Two-Pronged Light Bulbs.

I rearranged some of the battery chargers that work with my power hand tools.  Found a stack of electrician’s tape, that stuff sure comes in handy; but not today.  I put that with a container of bungie cords, love having extra bungie cords. 

Maybe I put those Two-Pronged Light Bulbs up with the regular light bulbs. I got out the step stool ladder and checked above the freezer next to the cans of baked beans and mayonnaise; no, they’re not there either.  Better go back to looking in the den closet.

Found the new staple gun with two boxes of staples we were going to use when reupholstering the fabric covered dinning room chairs.  I wonder where we stored that new fabric?  That can wait another year or so; today’s project is to replace a Two-Pronged Light Bulb in the vent-a-hood. 

Aha! There’s the package of Two-Pronged Light Bulbs, right where I knew they’d be behind the roll of drywall tape.  I put the ammo boxes back, closed the door to the closet and turned off the closet light.

The suction cup tool worked exactly as it was supposed to and the Two-Pronged Light Bulb was replaced in less than a minute.  Piece of Cake!

 

Officially a Senior Citizen

 

In case you were wondering if you qualify as an actual Senior Citizen, something most of us do when we stumble around the kitchen early in the morning; but in case you weren’t sure how to tell if you’ve become a senior citizen.  There are some subtle hints the world will hand you, like trying to get up from the living room floor after cutting out coupons with your grandchildren.

Think of this as a follow up for Jeff Foxworthy’s, “You might be a Redneck if…”

Yesterday, while at the grocery store, a young man picking up a dozen eggs down the refrigerated dairy isle stopped momentarily to admire my normal attire.  We do our grocery shopping while on our way home from serving at the Temple so I was dressed in a white shirt, dress slacks with dark suspenders to match.

“Nice outfit, man”.  This wouldn’t have been noteworthy except the same thing happened a couple of months ago when we were at Arby’s getting a late lunch.  His remarks, “Nice outfit, Man; looks like something an old man would wear.”

We watched the movie, Somewhere in Time, where the young man traveled back in time by convincing his mind he was going to meet the love of his life, suggesting to his mind the details of that time trip.  He purchased a men’s suit tailored for the early nineteen hundreds with coins to put in the pockets and in every way sold the idea to his subconscious mind.  Maybe there’s a Senior Citizen’s Clothing Shop where old guys purchase dress slacks with matching suspenders, Somewhere Nearby.

While going through yesterday’s mail, there was a coupon…how should I put this, a coupon that could be applied toward cremation services.  I’m not making this up, I promise.  The invitation was to attend a free dinner while the services offered would be explained. 

I’m sure they’ve considered having soft food, something easily chewed and then they might have miniature cremation urns as salt and pepper shakers to advertise various styles available.  Just for fun they’d have little placards for assigned seating with your name in fancy lettering along with, “Do Not Resuscitate”, no reason to assume you’d want the Heimlich Maneuver applied in the event you started choking.

Apparently, Facebook advertisers haven’t been able to keep up with my recently acquired Senior Citizen status.  I’ve been receiving promptings to purchase a brand new 2024 Hyundai Sonata, a new Ford Escape or a new Toyota Tacoma.  If we’re going to use the discount cremation coupon, why would we be purchasing a new car?

Most vehicles are sending information electronically to Big Brother as to exact location and speed relative to some orbiting satellite, it figures they retrieve lots of other information as well.  Last Wednesday the oil light on the dashboard flickered and flashed momentarily, then went back off as we were driving to Madisonville.  Our 2017 Hyundai Sonata has over 175,000 miles on it so the folks going through the data supplied figured it was time to upgrade with a newer model. 

We immediately had our local mechanic check things out.  He wanted to know how our car lost nearly 4 quarts of oil without having a leak and didn’t appear to be burning any oil.  We’ll keep a sharp eye on the panic lights displayed on the dashboard, never quite sure if this was a fluke or the bearing of bad news.

I’m still curious about the coupon for a free meal while being entertained by the cremation company.  Do they have a discount rate for Senior Citizens?

We purchase gift cards all the time while shopping at Kroger, especially when they offer four times the gas points on Friday.  We picked up a gift card yesterday to use at Texas Roadhouse and those gas points added nicely to our card.  There’s a new Texas Roadhouse in Huntsville that should be open for business next month.

Will Kroger offer extra gas points for obtaining a gift card at the crematorium?  Would we want a discount package or the deluxe cremation service?  Better to plan ahead and have that cremation card handy than to head down I-45 without one.  

Can you envision the State Trooper going through my wallet after the really bad wreck. “Dispatch, notify Sam’s Crematorium to pick up one of their customers with a Deluxe Gift Card. Not sure who it is at this time, pretty badly mangled; but nice outfit.”

 

That Must Have Been Exciting

 

I went to plug my cellphone onto the charging cable a while ago and noticed some damage near the end of the cable where it’s supposed to attach to the base of the phone.  Upon studying the cable a little closer it became evident that the damage had been caused by one of the cats chewing into the cable.

So, that would explain why, two days ago, my nightstand had been moved over.  I’d found my cellphone on the floor next to the nightstand but thought I must have accidentally knocked it down during the night.  It would also explain why the other end of the charging cable,  the end that plugs into the outlet, why it had been pulled away from the outlet just enough to where it no longer made contact with the outlet.  At the time I pushed the charging unit back in and made sure the cable was connected properly, never considered that an event had occurred. 

I’m only guessing; but one of the cats must have tried to chew on the charging cable and got bit by electricity, enough to throw the phone to the floor, dislodge the charging cable from the phone and at the same time pull the cable away from the outlet.  While trying to escape, she pushed the nightstand a couple of inches away from where it normally rests. 

Which of our kitties lost one of its nine lives?  I’ll probably never know; but I bet she leaves my cellphone alone from now on.

The Land of Promise

 

A couple of weeks ago, while perusing various articles, I ran across one with a seemingly straight forward catch phrase, “Israel is the only country in the world that was founded with a specific purpose.”  While the statement might be considered accurate by a good percentage of the world’s inhabitants, the statement wasn’t exactly true. I left a comment explaining why Israel isn’t the only country in the world founded with a specific purpose; however, not one individual bothered to challenge my comment or acknowledge that the comment had even been made.

Not taking anything away from Israel being one of God’s promised lands to those who serve him; there is another promised land dedicated to those who acknowledge God and serve Him.

Doctrine and Covenants 101:80 reads, “And for this purpose have I (the Lord) established the Constitution of this land (the United States of America), by the hands of wise men (Founding Fathers) whom I raised up unto this very purpose, and redeemed the land by the shedding of blood.”  (Emphasis added)

In the October of 1975 General Conference of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints Marion G. Romney, then Second Counselor in First Presidency, gave a talk entitled, America’s Destiny.  In that talk, scriptural references were made regarding the purpose of this particular nation.

“Millennia ago, he declared: “There shall none come into this land [he was speaking of America] save they shall be brought by the hand of the Lord.

“…this land is consecrated unto him whom he shall bring,  And if it so be that they shall serve him according to the commandments which he hath given, it shall be a land of liberty unto them.” (2 Ne. 1:6-7)

Elder Romney continued after explaining the tragic demise of those who perished in battle near the Hill Cumorah, located in the State of New York, around the year 421AD.  Moroni, being the last of his people, hid sacred records at that location, sacred records that would later become what we enjoy as, The Book of Mormon.

“And now, we can behold the decrees of God concerning this land,” wrote the ancient prophet-historian, “that it is a land of promise; and whatsoever nation shall possess it shall serve God, or they shall be swept off when the fulness of his wrath shall come upon them. And the fulness of his wrath cometh upon them when they are ripened in iniquity.”

“For behold, this is a land which is choice above all other lands; wherefore he that doth possess it shall serve God or shall be swept off; for it is the everlasting decree of God.” (Ether 2:7-10)

It’s wonderful to read about the promises and blessings of protection from God covenanted to the inhabitants of this nation we call the United States of America as long as we acknowledge the Lord and His commandments in our lives by following those commandments.  But it should come as a sobering realization that through tolerance and acceptance of abominations which are commonplace in our society, it could easily be concluded that we have “ripened in iniquity” and that “God’s wrath shall come upon”… us.

May we learn from the history of the inhabitants of Israel, that when God’s people rebel against Him, those who survive the invasions from their enemies often are enslaved and carried away to distant lands until such time as they are humbled and once again serve the Lord.

Fibber McGee’s Freezer

 

The younger generation might not have a clue as to the reference made in the title.  There was an old radio show from back in my childhood that we’d listen to, Fibber McGee and Molly. Getting to hear these radio shows gave me a glimpse of how my folks grew up.

This was the tail end of a long running radio gig from the vaudevillian age that ran from the 1930s on through when I was growing up in the late-1950s.   One of the featured events during the show was the sound of objects, many objects falling to the floor when Fibber McGee would open the closet.  That closet stored all manner of items stuffed in helter-skelter, stacked precariously on each other and yet balanced to precision temporarily.

Opening the closet door to remove even one item would upset the delicate balance and there would follow a horrific avalanche, at least that’s what we would hear as the radio created the scene for listeners. Radio shows, much like books, permitted the listener to imagine what was being presented for their entertainment. Television has robbed us of our imagination to some degree as special effects professionals apply their skills in such a way as to leave no doubt as to what mayhem has taken place.

This morning while catching up on social media, comfortably positioned with my bed pillow tucked behind my neck, there came a thundering sound from the other side of the house.  Heavy items were striking the floor in random commotion while muffled words of displeasure followed.

“Are you alright, Dear?”  I asked as best I could, being a naturally sarcastic husband.

“Nothing’s wrong, I’m fine.” This was followed by a few more thuds as items reached the floor.

I cautiously left the comfort of our bedroom and ventured toward the kitchen area.  Lucy had frozen salmon, frozen hot dogs, frozen steaks, frozen butter, and I’m not sure what that other frozen item was scattered on the floor in front of the freezer.

“I had to get the ribs out for when the Sister Missionaries were coming over for dinner this evening.”  Lucy was attempting to place each item back onto one of the shelves in the freezer; but the perfect fit, based on how each became a frozen mass when placed into the freezer, that perfect fit no longer existed. Lucy would place several items onto the shelf only to have the first items slide out and fall to the floor.

I’ve distanced myself from the kitchen area; hiding out in the office where I can document today’s efforts. Occasionally I’ll ask, “Are you okay, Dear?”, quietly and without too much sarcasm just to let her know I love her.