It’s a Maniac Thing

Many years ago...like in the 1920's....(Wow.  That’s 100 years ago. My how time flies.) Anyway,  a basketball team from Orofino High School was playing a game in another town.  Apparently they were playing quite well.  “Like Maniacs” was the reported description.  The name or team moniker stuck. 

Those of us who went to Orofino High School prior to the 1970s didn’t even have a picture if you will.  Someone clever student in the ‘70s came up with this picture.  There has been disagreement about who that clever student was.  Never the less the picture is now present on T-shirts, sox, hats, hoodies, flip-flips, sweat pants, window decals, and a local fabric shop sells fabric featuring Maniacs.  I have a license plate frame that reads “Once a Maniac, always a Maniac.”  I wore out a spare tire cover with an old Maniac shown here with my Aunt Mary who was a 1949 graduate of the aforementioned Orofino High School. As you might

have figured out Maniac gear is a hot selling item in the quiet little town of Orofino.

Then along comes the naysayers.  From time to time folks get their panties in a bunch and think the name should be changed to some common name like Bulldogs, Eagles, Lions, Tigers, or maybe even Badgers.  Most often these complainers don’t live here in O-town.  If you want to get a bunch of local Maniac supporters riled up suggest this idea.  A while back a new family moved to town.  The father proudly  told me his son would be a Maniac when he started school. 

Several days ago I watched a comedian doing his routine somewhere in Utah.  The subject of school mascots came up.  He pointed out to the audience that there were only about a dozen of them.  Like I noted before...your Eagles, Bulldogs, Lions, Tigers, etc.  He mentioned Wildcats and pointed out that wasn’t even a thing.  (It is a thing to Buick lovers).  He asked the audience members to shout out their  schools’ mascots.  I wish I had been there.  I would have been waving and yelling, “Pick me. Me! Me!, Me! 

                                 Something About Baby Boomers

Someone or ones had the well, balls, to write a dissertation about Baby Boomers.  It was not at all complimentary.  Probably the intention of it all.

I don’t have a clue about the Gen X-ers, the Millennial, Gen - whatevers.  I do, however, know a little bit about Baby Boomers.  We were so named because our fathers came home from THE WAR (you know... the big one) and began making babies.  They were tagged the Greatest Generation.  Many older Boomers wound up serving our country in  Viet Nam.  That’s a whole other story.

Who can deny that Boomers had the best cars?  Who does not like ‘57 Chevys or ‘68 Mustangs?  Or maybe ‘66 Chevy pickups.  Boomers didn’t make them, but they made them popular and collectible.  Most of the Boomers I know can tell you about a car they should not have sold.  Have ya’ll seen the joke where Jane Doe is at the Pearly Gates and St. Peter says, “Sorry, I can’t let you in.  It says here you traded a ‘69 Buick Skylark for a Toyota”.  That could be me.;;

How about the music that the Boomers made popular?  Elvis, The Beatles, Roy Orbison, and many more.  Some of the music (?) available today is not worthy of an 8-track tape.  Can’t you just hear “I Got You, Babe” playing in your head now?  (And for the rest of the day)  

And the movies that Boomers made classic along with the stars...John Wayne, Steve McQueen, Dean Martin, Debbie Reynolds, Jimmy Stewart, Bette Davis...just to name a few.  

The article accused Boomers of being capitalist.  That’s probably why a whole lot of Boomers own their own homes.  They figured out a way to make and keep their money.  You know ...not squandering it.  Boomers usually don’t live in communes like the Gen-Z’s or X’s or Q’s (whatever they are) recommended in this article.  If I recall correctly Charlie Manson was a commune dweller, before a prison-dweller.

Most of us Boomers were raised by the folks who are/were part of the Greatest Generation.  They taught us a thing or two about manners.  Things like saying please and thank you.  Our mothers made sure we didn’t go out with holes in our jeans and darn sure wouldn’t buy them that way for us.  Because our parents survived the Great  Depression we were taught things like waste not, want not.  My Aunt Pearl washed her tin foil so it could be reused.  There was something about living within your means.

Oh, yeah. Boomers should quit collecting stuff.  By stuff I’m guessing they meant anything they didn’t like.  I get that.  If ya’ll don’t have a house you probably shouldn’t be gathering up a collection of Depression Glass or first edition copies of rare books. However, if you have a house with a cupboard or a bookshelf perhaps you might want to load them up.  Or maybe a garage or even a warehouse.  I’m guessing Jay Leno has a place to store his car collection.  

Speaking of collections....lucky thing for me that I have a shelf or two to put boxes of fabric on...one of mine.  The boxes will fit right next to my boxes of baseball memorabilia. I don’t question Mr. Lucky about his collections and he doesn’t question me.  We’re smart that way.

 First Week in May

The first week in May has lots of folks scrambling to get the best deal on petunias, choosing tomato plants.  Will it be Early Girl or Beef Steak? How about skipping the zucchini and go with cucumbers?  So many choices.

Well, not so much for me.  The first week in May has me looking over the line up for the KENTUCKY DERBY.  Ya’ know....  The most exciting 2 minutes in sports which takes place on the first Saturday in May.  Except for in 2020 when Covid messed it up.  It was postponed until September that year.  

There is so much to consider before placing a bet or bets.  Read on..........

1.Track conditions.  Which horses can run in the mud if it happens to be a muddy track?  In May a muddy track is always a likely possibility.

2. Jockey.  One must consider his or her experience or lack thereof along with their win/loss record.

3. Trainer, owner, stable in which the horse was trained.

4. Family Tree.  In this year’s Derby 8 horses are descendants of Secretariat.  5. Horse’s Record. You want to select horses with the best winning record. Maybe.  The best odds are on horses with less than stellar records and oftimes they come out on top.

6. Color.  The color of the jockey’s silk, not necessisarily the color of the horse, but ya’ll can consider that too.  This year’s lineup has a pretty gray roan.  It’s nice if it matches the red roses they drape over the winner.  After all it is the “Run for the Roses”.  

When making my selections I consider a couple of other things.  The name of the horse goes to the top of the list.  A few years back the winner’s name was I’ll Have Another.  I liked the name thinking it might be another beer or piece of pizza.  Turns out the owner would always have another cookie.  Even better. 

Some final thoughts for picking a winner:

a.) Dart Board.  Arrange all the names of the contenders on a cork board and throw 3 darts for the first 3 positions.  

         b.) Hat.  Instead of placing the aforementioned names on a dart board you can place them in a hat.  You can draw three of them out yourself or have an uninterested party draw them out for you. Lucky for me I have a 3 year old grandson.  I’m sure he’ll be up for the challenge.

I’ll add another pearl of wisdom.  One zucchini plant will feed a small village.  Much more than that and you’ll have to sneak them onto your neighbors’ porches and into unlocked cars under the cover of darkness.  I think I'll plant another rose or two.

 December 31, 2022

Mr. Lucky and I have had a great year (sigh). I am happy to report (again) we made it through the year without buying a Buick.  I drool sometimes about those cute Honda Ridgeline pickups.  Good thing I haven’t seen one in a magenta color.  It’s probably an even better thing that Buick doesn’t make pickups.

Our summer was pretty much usual.  Hot.  Dry.  We were able to enjoy a few rides in our side x side, affectionately known as Red Rover.  In fact our year has been pretty much usual.  We had the same number of birthdays, one each, and we quietly celebrated our 58th anniversary.  And some folks thought it wouldn’t last.

One of the highlights of our year has been getting to spend time with our grandson.  His daddy bought him a gizmo called a Strider.  It’s a bike without pedals.  The idea behind it is to teach younguns all about balance.  Our grandson has this figured out.  I am guessing that this summer, when he’s 3, he’ll be teaching the other kids about balance and riding these things.  I’ll let you know where to sign your kids up.  He has figured out the most important; wear your helmet.  I see a motorcycle in the future.

We are slamming the door on 2022 and opening up the door for a new 2023.  I think I have this backwards.  There is some sort of an Irish thing about opening and closing doors on New Years Eve to let the evil out and the good stuff in.  That’s what we aim to do.   Anyway, we are wishing all of our friends, neighbors, UPS drivers, snow plow operators, waitresses, and even relatives a warm, happy New Year.

Mr. Lucky and I hope you all are happy, healthy, and ready to bring in a New Year.  May you be able to put your snow shovel away, keep the doctors at bay, and keep on celebrating.  After all St. Patrick’s Day is just a few short weeks away.

                                    Something About Aunts

Perhaps you have seen the Geico commercial on TV about an aunt invasion.  It is actually funny, as all commercials should be.  The first aunt tells the man of the house to stop slouching.  Another aunt is throwing out the expired contents of the fridge.  It can even be seen on You Tube.  Look for “Aunt Invasion”.

Ok.  Moving on here.  Fortunately my aunts didn’t get together to stage an aunt invasion.  I was blessed with 6 of them.  That is just regular aunts.  I’m not counting great aunts or aunt-in-laws.  

My favorite aunt was Aunt Pearl.  Look up ‘worker’ in the dictionary.  Chances are you will find her picture there.  She worked hard all her life and pretty much expected that from everyone else.  Different folks had different tasks, of course.  One of mine was her hair.  One time I went to visit here for a few days.  Before I got my suitcase packed into the house she had the equipment laid out for me to give her a hair cut and a permanent. The last time I visited her in the “home” a haircut for her was involved.  My sister had the misfortune of visiting her during peach picking season.  Aunt Pearl might not get after you for slouching but she was not above checking your teeth.  

Aunt Pearl had two sisters.  Aunt Ruby was known for her perpetual rummage sales.  She had boxes of “stuff” all around her patio to be sold at the next rummage sale for some charity or other.  She was also a part time newspaper reporter for the Lewiston Morning Tribune.  One Friday evening I stopped in at her house while walking home. The phone rings.  It’s her husband who happens to be the Chief of Police.  There is a fire at the grain warehouse in town.  “Come on”, she says, “we’re going to get the story on the fire”.  Trust me.  It was the biggest fire I had ever seen before or since.  She got the details and pictures and back home we went.  She called the news office at the newspaper and gave them the story.  Then back to the scene of the fire to get an update and more pictures.  Somehow she got the film (this was a long time ago) to the tribune before the paper came out the next morning.  For a young girl (me) at 14 years old or so this journalism stuff looked mighty interesting.  Up to that time I didn’t realize Aunt Ruby actually worked at being a reporter.  

The other sister was my Aunt Margaret.  If you ever went to the bowling alley in Orofino from the late 50s until sometime in the 90s you would have encountered my Aunt Margaret or Midge as she was known. That is where she worked and played.  She was a top notch bowler for many years.  Her work there entailed doing everything from mopping the floor to taking care of league bowling to making her delicious potato salad.  Sometimes all in the same day.  She was an early riser, too.  She got the family sense of humor.  She was always happy to share with you the latest joke she heard.  Aunt Ruby might have been able to write a story, but unlike Aunt Margaret, she couldn’t tell a joke.  She never fully understood the role of a punchline.  One of the highlights of my youth was the day Aunt Margaret let me play in her jewelry box.  Oh, my, all those sparkly things.  Dozens of pair of earrings, necklaces, pins.  Oh, my.

Aunt Mickey was married to my Uncle George.  By the way, I had 6 uncles, too.  Unlike my mom she prepared dinner in the middle of the day.  We had it at night and lunch in midday.  Oft times her dinner would include her homemade rolls.  Ummm. Good. Funny how you remember things about folks.  I remember that she came to get me at a friend’s house the day my father was killed in a logging accident.  I’ll bet she always remembered that, too. I also remember that when the phone rang she ran to answer it.  No one does that now.  We are not eager to renew our car warranty.

Moving from my paternal aunts to my maternal ones brings me to my Aunt Mary, my mom’s sister.  Before she got married she taught school for a year in Weippe.  One winter weekend my Grandmother and I caught the bus to Weippe to spend a couple of days.  Aunt Mary and Granny fixed a nice meal and Mary set the leftovers outside on the window sill.  What?!  No refrigerator.  I’m glad I don’t have to do that.  I don’t have window sills that big.  And where would you put the beer?  And later when she married my Uncle Pert she would need that fridge for the beer.  Heidleberg.

Aunt Ronnie was married to my Uncle Bob.  She introduced our family to spaghetti.  I don’t remember that we ever had it until she joined our family.  She was also a savior on Saturday night.  Before she came along Mom would fix my and my sister’s hair for Sunday School. Those dreaded pincurls.  Aunt Ronnie took over the Saturday night hair-do job.  What a relief.  She never stopped learning.  She decided she wanted to sew.  She bought the top-of-the-line Singer, took some classes, and sew she did.  Same thing with guitar playing.  She bought a guitar, took some lessons, and played it.  She was a teacher, too.  She taught me lots of things over the years.  Some of which I remember....like ironing a man’s dress shirt.  

Oh, yeah.  I have one pseudo aunt, too.  Aunt Jemima.  If you’re on my gift list you can expect to get a box of Aunt Jemima Buttermilk Pancake Mix.

One more thing....if I am your aunt figure out how to sneak vodka into the old folks home when the time comes.

I’ll bet you can’t wait to read about my uncles, all six of them.  

 

Gorillas Not in the Mist

In a recent blog I went on about red trucks and my “thing” for them.  Well, I have a thing for gorillas, too.  I am a secret admirer of Dian Fossey of ‘Gorillas in the Mist’ fame.  She is right up there with Madame Curie and Rosa Parks.  Some of you may remember Koko, the gorilla who learned sign language, thanks to Penny Patterson.  Pretty remarkable.

I have a bit of a collection of gorillas.  No.  Mr. Lucky’s knuckles don’t rub the ground when he walks about.  Nor does he beat on his chest, much, anyway.  

Back to my collection....it started with a cute little stuffed one and moved on from there.  Two of them, a mama and a youngun, like to drive about in a red cadillac or a...are you ready for this...a red truck. After all, like the rest of you I am sequestered.  

One time driving along Hwy 160 in Pahrump, NV I noticed a big blue one all blown up attempting to sell cars.  Mr. Lucky was not to keen on the idea of stopping to buy it or a car, for that matter.





Then there is this mask thing.  I know of several women who are sewing them by the dozens.  Not me.  I made two; one for Mr. Lucky and one for me.  Then I discovered the trick of folding a bandana and adding rubber bands to cut of the circulation to your ears.  Enough of that. 

 Then out came the latest addition to my latest gorilla collection.  Check it out.  I’ll be styling on my next trip to the grocery store.  And wait until Halloween.   

Take care.  Be safe.  Wash your hands.  Oh, yeah.  Laugh, too.  

The Red Truck Craze

It all started innocently enough... My fascination with red trucks, which are really pickups.  When Mr. Lucky and I first got married he had the most wonderful car.  It was a 1960 Studebaker Lark.  The finest driving car you would ever hope to drive.  But it wasn’t a pickup.  So when a 1954 red Dodge pickup came up for sale we decided to buy it.  Every young couple needs at least 2 vehicles, right?  

This red pickup looked nice in our driveway along side the Studebaker.  Sadly I don’t have a picture to show off.  This rig had one of the first Dodge Hemi engines and the transmission was complete with a granny gear.  Up to that point I thought granny gear was appropriate shoes and a proper house dress.  Little did I know.

So when my thoughtful sister sent Mr. Lucky a birthday card depicting a red pickup, an American flag, and a Route 66 sign or two I cabbaged onto the card and put it on the wall where it has remained for 5 or 6 years.  


Much to my delight you can now find a boatload of stuff with red and sometimes blue trucks.  My first purchase with the red truck theme was a $4.00 plastic tablecloth.  It’s still in the package waiting for the perfect time to be displayed.   I have personally bought no less than 7 yards of fabric, napkins, and a magnificent wooden wall hanging.  One of my cronies discovered garden flags on Amazon and got not one, but two, for me for Christmas.  (Thanks Marg).

I am on the hunt for the perfect red truck(s) to use as a centerpiece along with some of the fabric I have acquired.

It doesn’t stop there.  Take a wild guess about what Mr. Lucky is getting for Valentine’s Day.  We’ll pay no attention to the fact that this chocolate delight has only 680 calories.



So...Happy Valentine’s Day to you all.  Go ahead and buy the chocolate.






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