As the twilight of Independence Day rapidly approaches, it is our solemn duty and privilege to pay homage to all men and women who have given their lives paying the ultimate sacrifice defending our country and our freedom.
Tonight as we celebrate the Fourth of July remember the words so elegantly penned by Francis Scott Key during the defense of Fort Henry September 20th, 1814 .
“And the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air,
Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there.”
Before you begin to illuminate the skies this evening by launching volley after volley of pyrotechnic patriotism, pause a moment and reflect on the sacrifices incurred by our forefathers 228 years ago. Gaze upon the heavens in wonder as fireworks brilliantly and brashly shout out loud and clear that we the people stand united as a nation declaring in unison that America is the best damn nation the world has known.
Hug you wife, husband, son, and daughter. Yell out a hearty hello to your neighbors that have come forth from their homes this evening to watch the fireworks shows and to celebrate as an entire nation.
“O’er the land of the free, and the home of the brave.”
God Bless America .
LURKING ON THE GRASSY KNOLL
Showing posts with label Inner Sanctum. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Inner Sanctum. Show all posts
6/04/2008
Thirty Years Ago Today
Click Photo For Larger Image
School's out for summer
School's out forever
School's been blown to pieces
Well we got no choice,
All the girls and boys,
Makin' all that noise,
Cause they found new toys.
Well we can't salute ya,
Can't find a flag,
If that don't suit ya,
That's a drag.
School's out for summer,
School's out forever,
School's been blown to pieces.
No more pencils,
No more books
No more teacher's dirty looks
Well we got no class
And we got no principals
And we got no innocence
We can't even think of a word that rhymes
School's out for summer
School's out forever
School's been blown to pieces
No more pencils
nNo more books
No more teacher's dirty looks
Out for summer
Out till fall
We might not come back at all
School's out forever
School's out for summer
School's out with fever
School's out completely
School's out forever
School's been blown to pieces
Yes, tis me, (Center) the curator of the Grassy Knoll Institute, circa June 4th, 1978, high school graduation. I know you can dig the round over sized hippie shaded glasses. And I even got my hair cut for graduation day. Yes, I had long hair in high school. Alas, it was also that same year my hair started to turn gray.
To my right is one of my good friends Jim, (in the mustache) who moved to Kokomo, Indiana shortly after this day. By chance, we connected via the Internet, and it was good talking to one of my old friends that I haven't seen or spoken to for almost 30 years.
I'll leave you with an Alice Cooper tune that I blared on the last day of school over and over and over again on my 8-Track tape player in my car. Good times, good times.
Well we got no choice,
All the girls and boys,
Makin' all that noise,
Cause they found new toys.
Well we can't salute ya,
Can't find a flag,
If that don't suit ya,
That's a drag.
School's out for summer,
School's out forever,
School's been blown to pieces.
No more pencils,
No more books
No more teacher's dirty looks
Well we got no class
And we got no principals
And we got no innocence
We can't even think of a word that rhymes
School's out for summer
School's out forever
School's been blown to pieces
No more pencils
nNo more books
No more teacher's dirty looks
Out for summer
Out till fall
We might not come back at all
School's out forever
School's out for summer
School's out with fever
School's out completely
LURKING, GREAT IN 78, ON THE GRASSY KNOLL
4/17/2008
The Post After 999
(Would You Mind Telling Me who's Brain I Did Put In)
According to the Blogspot dashboard, (Which everyone loves so much) I noticed I have 999 posts here at the Grassy Knoll Institute. When I press the publish button, this post will be #1000. Yea baby yea!
I have not really thought about what I should post about for this milestone high water mark entry. Perhaps I should plead for world peace. For lower oil prices. For Simon Cowell of American Idol fame to wear a goddamn bra. Throwing the tea back into the harbor. For politicians that do not lie. Dealing with an honest used car salesman. (One in the same perhaps) Finding empirical proof that aliens really do exist. And God for that matter, (That's for you Cyn) or how many licks it does take to get to the center of a tootsie roll pop.
My son, Lead Scientist of the Grassy Knoll Institute suggested I post about the times I almost burned down our secret headquarters, or electrocuted myself, not once, but thrice while doing some wiring work, or blowing up the bee hive buried in the ground in our back yard, or my balancing act on the ladder, (Or lack of balance) or what it really took to be a member of the Daredevils club, or my real theory pertaining to ABC's Lost.
My wife Patty, the bank, brains, and beauty behind the blog, suggested dinner at her favorite restaurant without me taking my damn camera and photographing the meal I order.
Instead, I think I will simply say thank you to everyone that reads my quirky little blog. And to everyone who comments. And to those that have me linked and blogrolled on their own respective blogs and websites. And to General George S. Patton, for his genius in warfare and being a ruthless but fair bastard.
And for the others, I guess there is no pleasing you then.
LURKING, 1000 TIMES OVER, ON THE GRASSY KNOLL
12/26/2007
Top 10 Christmas Programs
The Essential Christmas Programs Must See List
Each year, hundreds of Christmas movies and television programs air during the holiday season. (Thanksgiving through the first of the year) Some are worth viewing, some not so much, and some are essential viewing creating the holiday tradition as the family sits around the tube and watches certain shows over and over every year. The following is the Grassy Knoll Institutes essential list of the top 10 Christmas shows.
It's A Wonderful Life (1946)
George Bailey, the richest man in town, in love not money. After defaulting on a bank transaction loan, George wishes he were never born setting off a chain of events that he witnesses through the eyes of his guardian angel. (Jimmy Stewart Stars)
A Christmas Story (1983)
Set in the 1940's in Indiana, Ralphie, a ten year old boy wants a Red rider BB gun for Christmas and tries to convince his parents to get it for him. A great depiction of American life in the 1940's. Love the Leg Lamp, (Electric Sex) the Pink Nightmare bunny suit, Not A Finger, Triple Dog Dare, Fra..gil...e, A Major award, and You'll shoot your eye out. And, putting your tongue on a cold metal pole will stick. Trust me. (Melinda Dillon as Ralphies mom, Darren McGavin as Ralphies dad, and Peter Billingsley as Ralphie stars)
We're No Angels (1955)
During Christmas, three convicts, Joseph, Julius, and Albert escape from Devil's Island prison. Waiting for a ship to take them to freedom, they take a job repairing a roof of a local merchant. The three convicts from their vantage point, look into the souls of the merchants family and the hardships they have. The convicts decide to help the family out after the arrival of Cousin Andre and Paul who own the shop and are only concerned with profits and nothing else. If it has no cash value, then it's worthless. A pet snake named Adolph helps the convicts along to give the merchant and his family a merry Christmas. (Humphrey Bogart as Joseph, Aldo Ray as Albert, Peter Ustinov as Jules stars)
The Bishops Wife (1947)
A Bishop has lost his way while working for months on a new cathedral. In this process, he neglects his family, friends, and parishioners and about to lose his very soul until divine intervention steps in by way of an angel sent by God by the name of Dudley. Dudley introduces himself and proceeds to collect the love and adoration of everything Henry, (The Bishop) holds dear, including his wife. Henry finally stands up to Dudley, and fights for what is really important to him just in time for Christmas Eve mass. (Cary Grant as Dudley and David Niven as Bishop Henry stars)
Miracle on 34th Street (1947)
Santa Claus goes on trial. A Macy's store Santa Claus calls himself Kris Kringle and believes he is the real Santa. A legal battle ensues and Santa Claus goes on trial. A savvy lawyer takes his case and the testimony is brilliant. (Maureen O'Hara as Doris Walker, Edmund Gwenn as Kris Kringle, Natalie Wood as Susan Walker stars)
Home Alone (1990)
Kevin, the youngest child of a large family gets left home alone as the entire family takes a trip for Christmas. Kevin finds being alone fine and dandy until he has to defend his home and life from the Wet Bandits, two hapless thugs that are breaking into the houses in the neighborhood.
(Macaulay Culkin as Kevin, Joe Pesci as Harry, Daniel Stern as Marv stars)
Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer (1964)
An animated classic tale of Santa Claus at the North Pole needing Rudolph, a misfit flying reindeer with a powerful red nose to guide his sleigh through the blizzard conditions on Christmas Eve. Along the way, Rudolph meets up with Herbie, the elf dentist, Yukon Cornelius, the Bumble, and King Moonrazor, the leader of the island of misfit toys. (Burl Ives as the snowman narrator stars)
A Charlie Brown Christmas (1965)
A Charles M. Schulz animated classic of the commercialization of Christmas. Charlie Brown seeks the true meaning of Christmas while his friends and even his own dog celebrate Christmas with money, and presents, and lights and decorations. it takes his best friend Linus to explain to him what Christmas is all about.
How The Grinch Who Stole Christmas (1966)
An animated book from Dr. Suess comes to life in the form of a mean old lonely Grinch that lives high atop Whoville. The Grinch hates everything about Christmas and plans to stop christmas from coming this year to Whoville by stealing all the presents, decorations, tree's, lights, and food. The Grinch learns a powerful lesson as he witnesses the Christmas spirit still alive in the town of Whoville. (Boris Karlof as the narrator and the voice of the Grinch stars)
Santa Claus Is Coming To Town (1970)
The story of Kris Kringle, who later became Santa Claus. All the questions little children have about Santa Claus are answered in this animated story as Kringle was left on a doorstep and grew up with elves making toys and learning the family business. It even explains how Santa knows if you were bad or good and how reindeer know how to fly. (Fred Astaire as the mailman Narrator and Mickey Rooney as Kris Kringle stars)
As a child, I waited ever so patiently for these programs to air on TV. I would have the calendar circled and made sure I was home to watch these programs. I didn't have the luxury of a VCR to record the program and watch it whenever I wanted. I only had one chance per year.
There is still time to catch these programs on TV or rent them at the local video store. It will be well worth the time spent viewing with your family and children.
LURKING ON THE GRASSY KNOLL
12/11/2007
The Mad Ice Scrapper
At dinner last night, I was reminded of an event that happened back in the 1970’s. I believe it was the winter of 1976, or maybe 1977. It was a Christmas holiday type event where each neighbor tried to outdo the next in Christmas decorations presentations. Being in the midst of the energy crisis, a time when just a few years earlier President Richard Nixon preached to all Americans to conserve oil, gas, and electricity. The Christmas light decorators had to find more energy efficient means to showcase their homes.
They came up with a very ingenious concept of brown and white paper lunch bags and nickel candles. The home owner would open each paper bag, add about an inch of sand to add weight so they would not blow away and line them starting at the street curb and then wind their way on both sides up their driveway. They would then add the nickel candles and light them. The paper bag would illuminate to a very bright decoration and the bag height would block the wind keeping the candle lit.
It would take hours to set up the bags and then every night relight or replace the candles and re-align whatever bags needed to be placed back into position.
That’s where Brad and I came in. At the height of the Christmas season, when every household was illuminated with these energy efficient decorations, we would take to the streets with our car. I was in my 1968 yellow Camaro, and we would find a street aglow with these light bags. I would then get really close to the curb and Brad would open the car door, and using the ice scrapper would mow down as many of the bags as he could.
Its hard to describe the sound the bags made when they came in contact with the ice scrapper, something like Thrack, thrack, thrack. We were laughing like idiots watching the bags almost explode as they were hit and then catch on fire immediately afterward. We would go street to street with the mad ice scrapper.
This went on for some time until we began to get chased from the neighbors who began to recognize the yellow Camaro. The mad ice scrapper retired after an all to brief reign of terror.
They came up with a very ingenious concept of brown and white paper lunch bags and nickel candles. The home owner would open each paper bag, add about an inch of sand to add weight so they would not blow away and line them starting at the street curb and then wind their way on both sides up their driveway. They would then add the nickel candles and light them. The paper bag would illuminate to a very bright decoration and the bag height would block the wind keeping the candle lit.
It would take hours to set up the bags and then every night relight or replace the candles and re-align whatever bags needed to be placed back into position.
That’s where Brad and I came in. At the height of the Christmas season, when every household was illuminated with these energy efficient decorations, we would take to the streets with our car. I was in my 1968 yellow Camaro, and we would find a street aglow with these light bags. I would then get really close to the curb and Brad would open the car door, and using the ice scrapper would mow down as many of the bags as he could.
Its hard to describe the sound the bags made when they came in contact with the ice scrapper, something like Thrack, thrack, thrack. We were laughing like idiots watching the bags almost explode as they were hit and then catch on fire immediately afterward. We would go street to street with the mad ice scrapper.
This went on for some time until we began to get chased from the neighbors who began to recognize the yellow Camaro. The mad ice scrapper retired after an all to brief reign of terror.
LURKING ON THE GRASSY KNOLL
11/19/2007
Hide The Sausage
Holiday Turkey Shoot
Thanksgiving and Christmas were very special times growing up as a lad. You see, we only had turkey dinners on these two days and with seven brothers and sisters, it was a scramble for leftovers the next day. Of course, as always, there was plenty of turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes and all the fixings the day of the holiday. It was the days after that concerned us.
The day after Thanksgiving and Christmas all the kids would run to the fridge for leftovers. Who am I kidding; we were drooling for some leftover turkey. Sure, the other leftovers were good and complimented the turkey ensemble but the turkey was the prized possession. Problem was, seven kids plus two parents and only one fridge and only a certain amount of turkey leftovers. This meant that the leftovers were gobbled up the day after and we would then have to wait for the next holiday.
This brought on another family tradition. Each child, and parent, would hack off some turkey and hide it some place in the fridge. At first it was simple to find the hidden treasure (Turkey) as it was placed behind milk cartons, behind a Coke bottle, inserted in the Land O Lakes butter box, and in the bottom crisper door. We then became a little more creative and began taping the turkey (In bags of course) to the ceiling of the fridge and behind items that would stay in one place for a while. In time, all hiding places were quickly found and pillaged like Vikings on a drunken binge.
Until I found the ultimate hiding place. Of course, because it was winter, it was cold outside and we had plenty of snow. One time, the day after Christmas, I built a snowman in the backyard. I then carefully inserted the wrapped up turkey in the center of the snowman and filled it in with snow. The perfect icebox.
Several freezing days went by and the turkey and all the trimmings were long gone. It was time to strike. I put my coat on and went outside to play. I immediately went to the garage, got my dads screwdriver, and chipped out the block of frozen turkey hidden in the mid-section of the snowman. Into the house and to the kitchen I went. I turned on the oven to low heat and put in the turkey. Ten minutes later, it was thawed and warm. The turkey was fantastic. Within minutes, several brothers and sisters came in to investigate as the smell of turkey filled the kitchen. Many questions were asked where it was hidden but no answers were offered. I had found the perfect hiding place.
Footnote: The next year, I built another snowman and hid the turkey in the same spot. Several days later I went out for the turkey and dug it out. Like the last year, I went inside and turned on the oven and unwrapped the turkey delight. But something was terribly wrong. As the outer tin foil wrap was taken off, there was only a block of ice and a sandwich baggie with a piece of paper in it.
The note simply said, saw you building the snowman, took a guess and got lucky. Thanks.
It would be years later that my brother George told me he was the one who saw me building the snowman and guessed that was my secret hiding place.
R.I.P. George 11/20/1997
LURKING ON THE GRASSY KNOLL
11/17/2007
Return To The Mall
A trip to the Mall. Every teenagers dream huh. The problem? I'm 48 years old. Yet, on a Friday evening I had to make my way to the mall.Yes, I had a plan. Stop and get a quick haircut, then return a pillow that was a gift, get a present for my sister-in-law, (Thinking back now, maybe the pillow would have been the perfect re-gift) and of course get dinner on the run.
The three Pats, (Me, Patrick, my wife Patty, and my son Patrick, hence the three Pats) piled into the Jeep Liberty and began our journey.
The haircut went perfect as Patty went to look for a present for her sister. The boy, young Patrick, not wanting to be there, hung out with me keeping a grip on the pillow for return.
Patrick and I quickly made our way to Penny's, up the escalator and right over to customer service. We were the only ones in line as two customers were being waited on already. A third woman, not helping anyone looked at me and then asked if she could help me. I said that I would like to return a pillow I received as a gift. The saleswoman stopped me right there and said that she couldn't help me but thought that I wanted only to ask her a question. I looked at the boy, then made eye contact with the large pillow in the large box in a large return bag, then back at the saleswoman, and told her that yes, I wanted to return a pillow, and did not want to ask her questions. Even with my new haircut. She said to be patient and wait in line. I thought I was....
Several minutes later it was my turn. At least I hoped it was. Another saleswoman looked at me briefly, waved her fingers at me in a come hither fashion, (Yea baby, my new haircut was turning these ladies on) looked down at her computer and I slowly approached the counter. The Seinfeld episode about the soup nazi came to mind, (No soup for you, NEXT!) and I put the pillow on the counter. I said I would like to return the pillow and have it taken off my Penny's charge. The saleswoman grabbed the bag, opened the box the pillow was in and inspected the contents going as far as squeezing the pillow.
I put my Penny's charge card on the counter and gave the saleswoman my receipt. She grabbed it. I looked at my son and he was smiling a little. I then asked if she needed my credit card and she said "Yea." Thats all, YEA! Not yes, not yes sir, just plain yea. This woman had not made eye contact with me yet. She grabbed my Penny's card and it flew right out of her hand. I and my son chuckled a bit as she tried to retrieve the card.
A minute later, the transaction was complete, I signed my sales slip, and tucked my credit card into my wallet. As I was still standing at the counter, the ink not yet dried on my signature, the saleswoman called out "Next." I looked behind me and there was no one else in line. Who was she talking to? She didn't even say thank you, or have a nice evening.
Well, that went smooth. At this point I was hungry. I met Patty at the food court, our designated meeting point, and we decided on a pizza. Patty was ordering for us and I asked the sales girl what kind of pizza it was as I thought I heard her say a "Sheet" pizza. The sales girl, who couldn't have been more than 18, smiled and said it was a round pizza. I said I thought I heard "Sheet" and didn't want a square pizza, but a round one. Patty stopped the conversation and told me to go sit down, she would take care of the pizza. The sales girl smiled at me and chuckled a bit. I said that I'll be over there sitting down with the boy.
Of course, they forgot our order and we had to wait more than 20 minutes for our pizza.
On our way out of the mall, I was fully expecting to see Rod Serling, creator of the TV Sci-Fi series, Twilight Zone, to be opening the doors for us uttering the words, "Going my way?"
The three Pats, (Me, Patrick, my wife Patty, and my son Patrick, hence the three Pats) piled into the Jeep Liberty and began our journey.
The haircut went perfect as Patty went to look for a present for her sister. The boy, young Patrick, not wanting to be there, hung out with me keeping a grip on the pillow for return.
Patrick and I quickly made our way to Penny's, up the escalator and right over to customer service. We were the only ones in line as two customers were being waited on already. A third woman, not helping anyone looked at me and then asked if she could help me. I said that I would like to return a pillow I received as a gift. The saleswoman stopped me right there and said that she couldn't help me but thought that I wanted only to ask her a question. I looked at the boy, then made eye contact with the large pillow in the large box in a large return bag, then back at the saleswoman, and told her that yes, I wanted to return a pillow, and did not want to ask her questions. Even with my new haircut. She said to be patient and wait in line. I thought I was....
Several minutes later it was my turn. At least I hoped it was. Another saleswoman looked at me briefly, waved her fingers at me in a come hither fashion, (Yea baby, my new haircut was turning these ladies on) looked down at her computer and I slowly approached the counter. The Seinfeld episode about the soup nazi came to mind, (No soup for you, NEXT!) and I put the pillow on the counter. I said I would like to return the pillow and have it taken off my Penny's charge. The saleswoman grabbed the bag, opened the box the pillow was in and inspected the contents going as far as squeezing the pillow.
I put my Penny's charge card on the counter and gave the saleswoman my receipt. She grabbed it. I looked at my son and he was smiling a little. I then asked if she needed my credit card and she said "Yea." Thats all, YEA! Not yes, not yes sir, just plain yea. This woman had not made eye contact with me yet. She grabbed my Penny's card and it flew right out of her hand. I and my son chuckled a bit as she tried to retrieve the card.
A minute later, the transaction was complete, I signed my sales slip, and tucked my credit card into my wallet. As I was still standing at the counter, the ink not yet dried on my signature, the saleswoman called out "Next." I looked behind me and there was no one else in line. Who was she talking to? She didn't even say thank you, or have a nice evening.
Well, that went smooth. At this point I was hungry. I met Patty at the food court, our designated meeting point, and we decided on a pizza. Patty was ordering for us and I asked the sales girl what kind of pizza it was as I thought I heard her say a "Sheet" pizza. The sales girl, who couldn't have been more than 18, smiled and said it was a round pizza. I said I thought I heard "Sheet" and didn't want a square pizza, but a round one. Patty stopped the conversation and told me to go sit down, she would take care of the pizza. The sales girl smiled at me and chuckled a bit. I said that I'll be over there sitting down with the boy.
Of course, they forgot our order and we had to wait more than 20 minutes for our pizza.
On our way out of the mall, I was fully expecting to see Rod Serling, creator of the TV Sci-Fi series, Twilight Zone, to be opening the doors for us uttering the words, "Going my way?"
LURKING ON THE GRASSY KNOLL
11/16/2007
Riding The Christmas Tree
Looking at the calendar seeing November rapidly fading I can almost hear the gears begin to shift into the high glee of the Christmas spirit. With my vantage point, I can see the traffic congestion, thousands of cars filled with happy shoppers waiting for hours to save 5 bucks on a four-slice toaster.
But this blog ain’t about the lead up to Christmas, it’s the after effects of the holiday season, or more precise, the tradition of taking down the tree. (Rest assured, there will be a very soon blog on the tradition of putting the Christmas tree up, from the old days of going out and cutting down a fresh tree to the current artificial tree scenario we have right now.)
Happy New Year!!! Yes January 1st is here and the tree is still in the corner. Our two wild cats have already picked it clean of all their favorite baubles and trinkets leaving a smattering of tidings and joy scattered throughout the house. You haven’t lived until you see silver tinsel in the cat box. And it didn’t fall in there either. Yet I digress yet again.
The dismantling of the tree and storing it away was always a chore. Taking down all the ornaments that the cats didn’t like and putting them back in their boxes, unwrapping the garland strings and folding it ever so nicely back into its boxes, unwinding the several thousand lights that when at full illumination, burned my retina’s out and I couldn’t see for two full days.
And yes, the lights always seem to get tangled into a big ball and it takes quite awhile and plenty of patience to get them all wound up in the right coiled position so next year when they are unpacked, they are not in a big ass ball.
Finally, the tree is bare and I bring the tree box from the basement and center it in the living room. Taking out the old newspapers from years past that I use to cover the tree, (I don’t know why I do that) I begin with the treetop and it pops right off. I set it on top of the lazy boy couch.
The tree is in sections and comes apart fairly easily. This part takes all of five minutes. I then pack each section carefully in the box, put the treetop in and the poles and the tree stand. I then put the old newspapers on top and tape up the box readying it for its journey and dormant sleep for another year in the basement.
I pushed the tree box to the kitchen door and positioned it in front of the basement stairs. Gently and slowly I lifted the tree box beginnings its journey down the steps. Then it happened. I guess my tennis shoes were untied for I stepped on the laces and tripped and fell right on top of the tree box. A split second later, I was inside the tree box sleeping with the branches, and a split second after that I was riding the damn Christmas tree down the basement steps.
Thump, Thump, Thump, times 15 steps. My heart was pounding and my mind went blank. (My wife says hard to believe huh?) The ride was over in a nanosecond. The box slip safely to a halt about five feet on the basement floor. I jumped out of that box like a Jack-In-The-Box tightly wound. Feeling nothing broken I started to laugh. I sat down on the floor cracking up thinking that this episode would have been perfect for America’s Funniest home movies. Where’s the damn web cam when you need them?
Later that day I told my wife Patty of my most eventful day. She looked at me in shock, asked if I was OK, and then proceeded to bust out in laughter calling me by her pet name she made up for me. “You idiot, you’re lucky you didn’t kill yourself.” Yes dear, but at least the Christmas tree was stowed away for another year and I got a free ride down the steps.
But this blog ain’t about the lead up to Christmas, it’s the after effects of the holiday season, or more precise, the tradition of taking down the tree. (Rest assured, there will be a very soon blog on the tradition of putting the Christmas tree up, from the old days of going out and cutting down a fresh tree to the current artificial tree scenario we have right now.)
Happy New Year!!! Yes January 1st is here and the tree is still in the corner. Our two wild cats have already picked it clean of all their favorite baubles and trinkets leaving a smattering of tidings and joy scattered throughout the house. You haven’t lived until you see silver tinsel in the cat box. And it didn’t fall in there either. Yet I digress yet again.
The dismantling of the tree and storing it away was always a chore. Taking down all the ornaments that the cats didn’t like and putting them back in their boxes, unwrapping the garland strings and folding it ever so nicely back into its boxes, unwinding the several thousand lights that when at full illumination, burned my retina’s out and I couldn’t see for two full days.
And yes, the lights always seem to get tangled into a big ball and it takes quite awhile and plenty of patience to get them all wound up in the right coiled position so next year when they are unpacked, they are not in a big ass ball.
Finally, the tree is bare and I bring the tree box from the basement and center it in the living room. Taking out the old newspapers from years past that I use to cover the tree, (I don’t know why I do that) I begin with the treetop and it pops right off. I set it on top of the lazy boy couch.
The tree is in sections and comes apart fairly easily. This part takes all of five minutes. I then pack each section carefully in the box, put the treetop in and the poles and the tree stand. I then put the old newspapers on top and tape up the box readying it for its journey and dormant sleep for another year in the basement.
I pushed the tree box to the kitchen door and positioned it in front of the basement stairs. Gently and slowly I lifted the tree box beginnings its journey down the steps. Then it happened. I guess my tennis shoes were untied for I stepped on the laces and tripped and fell right on top of the tree box. A split second later, I was inside the tree box sleeping with the branches, and a split second after that I was riding the damn Christmas tree down the basement steps.
Thump, Thump, Thump, times 15 steps. My heart was pounding and my mind went blank. (My wife says hard to believe huh?) The ride was over in a nanosecond. The box slip safely to a halt about five feet on the basement floor. I jumped out of that box like a Jack-In-The-Box tightly wound. Feeling nothing broken I started to laugh. I sat down on the floor cracking up thinking that this episode would have been perfect for America’s Funniest home movies. Where’s the damn web cam when you need them?
Later that day I told my wife Patty of my most eventful day. She looked at me in shock, asked if I was OK, and then proceeded to bust out in laughter calling me by her pet name she made up for me. “You idiot, you’re lucky you didn’t kill yourself.” Yes dear, but at least the Christmas tree was stowed away for another year and I got a free ride down the steps.
LURKING ON THE GRASSY KNOLL
11/01/2007
4th Grade Class Picture 1970
 |
| Class Picture - Pick Me Out |
That led me to here. The Grassy Knoll Institute. Where everything is questioned. And I do still eat meat on Fridays. Not so much wear the clip on ties though.
As an added bonus, can anyone pick me out in the class picture? BTW, the nun pictured is Sister Eileen, the school principal. The FN bitch.
LURKING ON THE GRASSY KNOLL
10/10/2007
Christmas Memories Of The 1960'S
Way back in the early 1960's, I guess I was around 5 years old at the time, I remember my older brother Jack having an argument with my mother about being bad. Being that it was Christmas time, my mother played the Santa Claus card. She saw that I was watching and listening to the argument and decided to kill two birds with one stone.Mom stopped Jack in mid sentence and said that Santa Claus was listening and he wouldn't like this conversation. After all mom said, he knows when you are bad or good so be good for goodness sakes.
My older brother Jack took a step back, paused a moment, formulated his reply, and then let er rip. He told mom that he was bad last year and Santa still bought presents for him.
That was it. Mom pulled the final trump card with the all to frightening, "Wait till your father gets home" ending the argument with Jack running for cover and with me trying to quietly slink away as to not be wrongly associated with what just happened.
That evening, Jack took all the heat as dad lowered the boom on him. I went unscathed from the episode lucking out.
Several weeks later, Christmas was here and my brother Jack was correct. He had plenty of presents under the tree. Exactly the same amount as me. Hmmnnn. Jack was on to something here. I wanted in on it. Of course Jack wanted something in return. A favor perhaps, money, chores. But that is another story......
My older brother Jack took a step back, paused a moment, formulated his reply, and then let er rip. He told mom that he was bad last year and Santa still bought presents for him.
That was it. Mom pulled the final trump card with the all to frightening, "Wait till your father gets home" ending the argument with Jack running for cover and with me trying to quietly slink away as to not be wrongly associated with what just happened.
That evening, Jack took all the heat as dad lowered the boom on him. I went unscathed from the episode lucking out.
Several weeks later, Christmas was here and my brother Jack was correct. He had plenty of presents under the tree. Exactly the same amount as me. Hmmnnn. Jack was on to something here. I wanted in on it. Of course Jack wanted something in return. A favor perhaps, money, chores. But that is another story......
LURKING ON THE GRASSY KNOLL
I Am Thunder Hear Me Roar
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| Thunder Cat |
Thunder was the runt of the litter and was abandoned by the mother just several days into it’s young life. We decided to have pity on the kitten and took it home. It did not have any hair yet, was only several inches long, and by the looks of it, wouldn’t last the night. But it did, and we took it to the vet that day. More bad news. The vet said that the kitten would probably not survive being abandoned so early and that we should leave the kitten with him and he would put it out of it’s misery. We didn’t like that option, so we asked him what we could do to help this kitten survive.
At this, the vet seemed to open up a little and gave us half a dozen non-needle syringes and some mothers pet milk plus a slimy food supplement that came in a toothpaste type container.
The vet told us to feed the kitten 6 times per day using the syringe and force the milk slowly into the kittens mouth. He told us to keep the kitten warm and for us to call him in a week if the kitten survived that long.
We took the cat home and introduced her to our other cat, Storm, a big male cat who up to this time, had the run of the house. One look at the little rat we were carrying and Storm wanted a piece of it right away. We would have to keep them separated. We named the kitten Thunder. Now we had two cats, Thunder and Storm. Get it?…
Well, we got an old blanket and a box and fixed Thunder a little bed. We took turns getting up in the middle of the night to feed Thunder and change the blanket when necessary. At first, the kitten would barely take any milk, fighting us all the way. Several days later however, the kitten started to come around and took to the pet milk. It even began to grow fur and actually meowed for the first time.
A week later, the vet was astounded when he saw the kitten and told us to continue what we were doing but to start adding the food supplement he gave us.
A month later, Thunder had all her hair, was eating from the food dish, along with still receiving the pet milk and the food supplement and after several tense days of introductions to our male cat Storm, they now both rule the house.
Thunder is now full grown, 5 years old, and weighs a whopping 5 pounds, one ounce. After all, it was the runt of the litter but more than likely got the last meow in life with it’s siblings.
LURKING ON THE GRASSY KNOLL
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