Last Sunday we took another drive to Appleton
to hear our daughter Erin's Vento Winds orchestra concert.
This time we were driving her former Ford Fusion, a new car
for the Lincoln-locked, replacing the 1996 Town Car
that was expiring, though with heart of steel.
Still. Alas, along with rust.
This low mileage 2008 model offers ever so much better
gasoline mileage.
At last Dee has a reasonable and practical
transport, the sort of car she has always been
much better suited to, but she drove our only car,
the Lincoln way longer than we should have had it.
We sold it to a local garage owner and all-round
mechanic who could repair the many pending
mechanical needs,
and indeed has now done so.
So instead of the noble machine's likely
ending as a crunched cube in a scrap yard
it has received some added life
though the abysmal rusting out of the body
that got away from us when I was sick
signals cube-time on the horizon,
maybe soon, but the good news is ~ not just now.
Added life for the faithful servant.
John Wiesenthal, mechanic/buyer removes the old YIBAWE plates.
Look John up on the net. He's a good man.
YIBAWEan history:
http://raccoonnews.blogspot.com/2008/01/there-is-paper-and-there-is-paper.html
Dee and new car, at Culver's.
to hear our daughter Erin's Vento Winds orchestra concert.
This time we were driving her former Ford Fusion, a new car
for the Lincoln-locked, replacing the 1996 Town Car
that was expiring, though with heart of steel.
Still. Alas, along with rust.
This low mileage 2008 model offers ever so much better
gasoline mileage.
At last Dee has a reasonable and practical
transport, the sort of car she has always been
much better suited to, but she drove our only car,
the Lincoln way longer than we should have had it.
We sold it to a local garage owner and all-round
mechanic who could repair the many pending
mechanical needs,
and indeed has now done so.
So instead of the noble machine's likely
ending as a crunched cube in a scrap yard
it has received some added life
though the abysmal rusting out of the body
that got away from us when I was sick
signals cube-time on the horizon,
maybe soon, but the good news is ~ not just now.
Added life for the faithful servant.
John Wiesenthal, mechanic/buyer removes the old YIBAWE plates.
Look John up on the net. He's a good man.
YIBAWEan history:
http://raccoonnews.blogspot.com/2008/01/there-is-paper-and-there-is-paper.html
Dee and new car, at Culver's.
Segue
Top of page:
Our drive in the new Fusion took us through
the wind turbine farms along Hy 41.
Past Held's sausage.
We were into windpower many years ago.
Here you see the little man playing - thanks to harnessed
wind on Arcadian Ave - his banjo.
And stomping his foot.
The stronger the breeze, the faster he strummed and stomped.
The windmill blades were recycled metal Venetian blind
blades cut and tapered to size.
The figure and more delicate parts were fashioned
with a tin snip from old cake tins belonging to my grandmother.
The mechanism once blew down the street
during a windstorm. Badly dented, nay, broken
yet it has been kept
as a curiosity and is here
at the Odd Fellows hall as I type.
It is a talisman, a connection with a former time.
6 inch square beam,
with the right bearings for me by a friend, Mel Stark.
Even the 6 x 6 that held the weathervane
went the way of eventual unstoppable rot. Blew over in another wind.
Even so, good old Mel Stark of the Congo
took the bent pieces and straightened them.
Also took an old dresser I'd stored for years
in the garage, and beautifully refinished it.
Mel has that windmill
- for which he'd made the original finial bearings -
yet in service in his Northview Ave 'back 40'
where it still tells the truth as to wind
speed and direction.
I have the finial and part of the unrotted pole here with me/us.
I temporarily laid out the license plates on the floor.
Four YIBAWE plates from our car and truck
with Erin's two numeral plates off the Fusion.
^,^
Endangered
Cont'd
(and this whiff of humor, albeit in a zoo enclosure)
^,^
On Zoos, 1981
Letter to Editor, Milw. Journal
Letter to Editor, Milw. Journal
For easier reading
we've divided this letter to the 1981 Milw. Journal
into two sections - direct your cursor up and down for a complete
read:
First and third portion
read:
First and third portion
Second portion
^,^
Other endangerments
I have known
Ragtime’s Testicles
We had a cat who was a male
Whose habits and wants none could
assail
Except in his dotage he’d flagrantly
pee
In places inside where we’d smell,
and then see
The vet said of that he could be
easily fixed
By neutering him that scourge would
be nixed
So I took him in and had the job
done
And I told the vet I had a request,
only one
That he save the testes in a small
glass jar
For me to take home; would not carry’t too far
They were to be sure Ragtime’s
prized possessions
And I thought that to save them
might stay any questions
Thus I placed in the ice box
Ragtime’s yellow-gray orbs
In a small screw-top jar midst the
food of all sorts
And with time in the way of fridges
everywhere galore
The little jar got forgotten; I knew it no more
I married Dee
later, and she liked to clean
She tackled my icebox, threw out
many things mean
But my sauces and condiments if
questioned got left
For me to not lose so I’d be not
bereft
Besides, the mystery jar took so
little room
And didn’t look mouldy, formeldahyded
safely from gloom
The contents looked like something
that I might want to keep
So Dee, a good saver, said not a
peep
Years later my father visited and in
accord with his habit
Required a martini; he’d make it and
have it
The gin and the vermouth were there
in plain sight
But no garnishments, like olives,
cheered him that terrible night
He made do through searching, built
a drink I’d have banned
And joined us in the living room,
bare toothpicks in hand
And his brow it was furrowed as his
lips he did smack
Saying, “Boy, your cocktail onions a
wallop do pack!”
“They have a certain gristle I’m not
used to having,
And the flavour, though pungent, I’d
probably be halving;
How long have you had them?” Though with dawning great dread
I said, “The cat that they came
from is dead!”
[David Dix 4-18-2004 ]
Martini-drinking Dad
Ragtime