Cottage STreet Gazette

I don't know about you [isn't that original?], but I find the 'Travelocity' ad with the jackhammers interfering with conversation to be very annoying. Isn't it bad enough the travelers have to open their windows to a balcony overlooking a grave yard? Or deal with that poor, downtrodden plaster gnome gumming up the works regularly?

There was a message on my tv set prior to a showing of 'Law and Order': 'The following program may contain scenes not suitable for some. Parental discretion is advised.' This occurred at 2:30 am. Methinks our children are staying up too late in the evening.

In an ad for a siding firm, you can hear the boast: 'We also power wash and fix minor repairs.' Whose repairs are they fixing? Can't they do the minor repairs right in the first place? Or are they boasting an ability to fix minor repair efforts of the homeowner-handyman?

Attention 'Jurassic Park'! A recent study has determined that 'Tyrannosaurus Rex [is] Basically a Big Chicken'. So, when you open your next park restaurant, be sure to include some breaded, 'Fried Rex' on the menus, to be served with Jungle Greens and hand-carved sesame seeds? I'm not sure what kind of stuffing should be used. Perhaps 'bread trees?'

Don't you find it curious that billions and billions of dollars are spent each year around the world simply to see and [maybe] identify hazy, white lines on a screen as itty bitty matter particles? You could fool me for a lot less.

I've heard at least two different tv commercials using a pre-recorded [from the published song] singing of 'I believe in miracles.' I've listened and listened, but I still can only hear 'I believe in mail call.' It took me many hearings to figure out the real words, and I needed hints. I suppose if I knew the song, I'd have had no problem. But that would have been the easy way out.

The older and wiser I get [with much time out for inate stupidity], the more I can pick out the holes in many scripts for tv and movie productions. For instance, why do the actors have to look dumb and stupid instead of actually telling a person about the death of a close companion or friend? Is that really the time to subject an innocent spouse/friend to your guessing games? Sometimes the preliminaries to the actual telling can drive you up a wall. For drama I suppose?

Why are so many scripts filled with stupid actions. I've seen many movies that would simply have no plot if the main character had simply acted like a normal human being in the beginning of the story. Sure, find a body and grab the knife, thus leaving your fingerprints. You're innocent, but you make elaborate efforts to lie and throw the a wrench into the works, thus making yourself the prime suspect. Lie about a near relative because you are 'shielding' him/her. Good drama perhaps, but you can never fool a tv detective very long.

I'm curious. How can Mary Alice in 'Ace of Cakes' be 'feeling a little emasculated now?' I think she's a very pretty and charming woman. She has nothing to ever feel 'emasculated' about.

Speaking of 'Ace of Cakes:' I used to make specialty cakes for my children on their birthdays---their choice of what they should look like. I'm not a professional, but I though they were pretty good for an average Dad. Picture included above. But, I was nowhere near the efforts of 'Charm City Cakes.' They do awesome work. I found it hard to believe that the 'Hogwarts' estate was edible. I guess their cakes are worth every dollar you pay for them---and then some.

I'm watching the 'Food Channel' now. Did you ever notice that today's chefs reinvent the wheel on a regular basis? And not always correctly. They give out tips that I learned fifty years ago. And often, I know a better way to do something than they do.

Is it any wonder there are so many overweight chefs? Their recipes are heavy on the butter, animal fats, sugar, and sodium. Their fine looking efforts would kill many of their viewers who are diabetic, overweight, or suffering from many other health problems. Taste good? You bet! They're great! But they're killing most of us.

Remember the movie 'Support Your Local Sheriff?' If you do, you'll remember the kitchen scene where Joan Hackett [Prudy Perkins] is trying to make dinner in a fancy dress with long sleeves and lace cuffs? The dress is inappropriate and leads the scene into a very funny result, including the usual flying flour and smoked skirt.

Check out some female tv chefs, especially Rachael Ray. With her long sleeves covering half her fist, she just doesn't seem to get it. Most of their viewers are housewives and men who can be easily imagined to be wearing shorts [ala Mario Batali], bathing suits, dressing gowns, overalls, uniforms etc. Despite the 40 years, Rachael is still very pretty and alluring---if she'd keep the energy level down a bit.

I've been bombarded with the advertisement about a cell phone you can get very cheaply, and you only have to buy about $20 of time every three months. Wow! It doesn't sound like much of an expense, does it? In truth, it works out to about 30 cents per minute. So, even wrong numbers and calls from the ex can sting the senses and the pocket.

There's a 'language instruction video' being hawked on tv. There have been others. Whatever merit they might have---I just don't know. I keep hearing the praises of the video, but none of the 'happy' users ever utters a word in the foreign language. I wonder if they can speak what they say after all?

What! No more? Of course there is, but not for today. This is simply another in a series of articles on 'Better Living' for the American media viewer and taxpayer.

Something I like.

Friends:

My favorite [only] computer [Damn Thing] is now in its final death throws. While it's been terribly sick these last few months, this past week has been a trying experience, with increases in: freezes, jumping cursor, constant system restarts, last second text highlights, garbled words, and lost work files.

I recently ordered my new Dell, and within a few weeks I hope to be up and running again better than ever---depending, of course, on how well I can handle the transition. I'll be using a 22" monitor, so even though I don't have a camera, I'll be able to see everyone. Just wave. My old computer has been the main reason for my spotty blog entries an correspondence, and I hope by the end of the month to be on a better schedule.

'The Damn Thing is dead!' Long live the new Damn Thing!'

Letter One

'After having used horses in my medical practice for ten years, I became interested in the automobile as doing away with the great expense of keeping teams, the bother and disagreeable features of drivers, etc. I subscribed for the three leading automobile journals, sent for a catalogue of every vehicle I saw advertised, attended every automobile show I could get to, and finally pinned my faith to steam as the best power for my business.

'The first of April finally saw me in possession of a steam carriage of the latest construction. Ready for anything, and on the point of selling my teams---so sure was I that the automobile was the proper means of locomotion for a doctor. My experience with steam had all been on paper, my knowledge of it being derived entirely from catalogues and journals. So after fixing up after a fashion I started out and ran quite a distance very successfully.

'Then wishing to appear before my family as a full-blown chauffeur, I started for my residence, just in front of which I began to smell gasoline for five minutes. Without stopping to think, I pulled out a match and attempted to relight the fire. Piff! Bang! And the whole thing was ablaze. I retained presence of mind enough to turn off the main gasoline supply and to throw out the cushions and throw mud and dirty water from the street at it until I had subdued the flames, but my $800 auto looked like a bad case of delirium tremens: the paint was scorched and soiled and my reputation as an expert shattered the first day among all the neighbors, who, as usual, witnessed the accident.

'This first experience rather put a damper on my enthusiasm, at least for two or three days, but when the machine had been washed up it looked somewhat better, and after much persuasion I induced my wife to accompany me on a short spin. After we had ridden out about a mile I suddenly missed the water. The fusible plug blew out and my boiler burned. Now I was simply going to shine! I explained how this could easily be overcome, for (according to the catalogue) all that is necessary is to insert a key where the fusible plug was, pump up the water by hand, and go rejoicing on your way. Spreading a robe on the ground I proceeded to put my printed instructions into practice; but, alas! I found the key would not fit in the opening, as the babbitt metal stuck to the sides and the tubes were leaking badly. So with fingers burned and clothes soiled and disordered I was again towed home in disgrace, and here I learned my first two lessons in automobiling: First, don't believe over one-half you read in the printed catalogue; second, never wear a silk hat, frock coat and white linen on an auto trip; they don't look well after an accident.'

***
Letter Two

'Many object to the steam type of machine on the ground that there are so many important matters to keep in mind. I personally think this is one of the advantages, for it gives one a great deal of personal satisfaction to master a beautiful piece of mechanism and keeps his faculties alert while utilizing the same.

'We do not go fishing for pleasure with a net, and spirited horses are still in demand. As I have never had two machines at one time I cannot really decide on my preference for use. I intend to have both styles next year and shall be curious to find out which one I really get the most use out of. I am sure the beginner will usually have more luck with the steam machine, for its main points can be appreciated in fifteen minutes' time. I have seen an expert work on a gasoline machine all day, and then after it got to running be unable to tell which of his various adjustments had accomplished the end in view.

'There is no question that the gasoline machine is far ahead as to economy of fuel, though the repairs of batteries and cost of oil used are somewhat amazing. The usual repair shop would hardly care to tackle the mechanism of a gasoline engine, and if the carriage is purchased from a manufacturer some hundreds of miles away the element of time and expense involved is rather appalling. Another trouble with the heavy gasoline machines is the very weight which enables them to obtain the high speeds and be properly steered. Many of them cannot be pulled by a single horse and offer a severe strain to the ordinary harness. If one gets down into a ditch it is practically impossible to do anything without the assistance of quite a gang of men.'

...After our move, we were closer to the center of town and different relatives. My grandmother also moved, this time to the home of Uncle Bill and Aunt Rose. On many Sundays, we'd go over to Oak Street to visit them. Nana would watch the Yankees or play dominos with us---but never at the same time. The other four adults would play Samba, Bolivia, or a similar canasta-based card game. Nana went to bed around 7 pm (she arose around 5 am,) so she didn't watch night games, and we kids had plenty of time to play games by ourselves in the kitchen.

Partners were family oriented, with my Mom and Uncle Bill (her brother) against my Dad and Aunt Rose (his sister.) While they played, we were treated to the aroma of the simmering tomato sauce, meatballs, and sausages prepared by Aunt Rose. In the living room, Billy was usually reading a sample from his vast supply of comic books, or else running around the neighborhood somewhere. When we were there at other times, I'd sit quietly reading his comic books.

I never bought any comic books myself, so Billy's stash was a good reading supply. And he had a lot of them. All kinds. Mickey Mouse with Minnie, Mortimer, Goofy, Horace, and Clarabell. Donald Duck and his nephews, Huey, Dewey, and Louie. Little Lulu with Tubby, Annie, and Izzie. Archie and his classmates Jughead, Veronica, Betty and Reggie. Superheroes called Superman, Superboy, Wonder Woman, Supergirl, Green Arrow, Batman and Robin, or Aquaman. Casper the Friendly Ghost and his brother ghosts. Bugs Bunny and Elmer Fudd. Daffy Duck. Henry the Chicken Hawk with Foghorn Leghorn. Scrooge McDuck and the Beasley Boys. Korean War comics---virtually everything published except the gory horror and romance types. I think Uncle Bill actually bought them for Billy. And the pile in the living room corner was about three feet tall!

In the kitchen, Mary Anne, my cousin Ginger (Virginia,) and me were usually playing a game: Sorry, Parchisi, Checkers, Dominoes, Chinese checkers, Monopoly---or a card game of Canasta, rummy, Authors or Old Maid. Canasta was similar but simpler than the one our parents were playing. Ours was also friendlier. We laughed a lot. Uncle Bill, on the other hand, had a tendency to yell at Aunt Rose even though she wasn't his partner. We got used to it. But the food was always great and plentiful. These Sunday activities were usually lengthy. Our parents enjoyed playing until late at night---or at least late to us. I doubt their games went past 10 pm. They only drank---and that rarely---homemade anisette and rosette. Otherwise coffee, tea, soda, and iced tea were the drinks du jeur.

If Ginger and Mary Anne weren't around or didn't want to play games, I went out to the back porch. Uncle Bill and Aunt Rose had an old Victrola out there. The top opened for playing records with an older style needle and holder, and the cabinet had some records. I had to feed energy into it from a crank on the side, and I played and listened to the records---incorrectly apparently. The player had a steel stylus, which should be replaced after each record is played. I didn't know that, and I have my doubts that Uncle Bill or Aunt Rose did either. But cranking it up, putting a record on, and setting the heavy tone arm, sound box, and stylus on the record was an intriguing thing to my young mind. My aunt and uncle never had a problem with my playing the Victrola, and I don't know what happened to it. They probably sold it when they moved to Cottage Street a few years later.

Every year or so, the four of them would get together, alternating homes, and make a batch of the liqueurs anisette and rosette. Neutral grain spirits were hard to find but always there (or there wouldn't have been a preparation to prepare,) and the sugar and flavorings were easily obtained. I remember the use of the sink and jugs and hot water and the spirits, liquid and solid flavorings, and then they had to age for a while---about ten seconds before someone had a taste. After a few months, they were ready for imbibing in small amounts for celebratory purposes only. I mean they took all night to make, and they didn't make gallons of the stuff. Supplies were limited. I think all four of them expected the Middletown police to break in at any time and arrest them. It probably added to the preparation's mystique. But, it's my understanding that their efforts were perfectly legal. The few times I managed a taste was a sweet experience, because that's what they were: sweet liqueurs.

Aunt Rose was a fine cook. As a treat, she'd fry dough for us---pizza fritte. I liked it best plain with a little salt. Dunking it into the simmering sauce never occurred to me. The spaghetti or macaroni, meatballs, and sausages, were just the icing on the cake, as it were. I'm very surprised I remained so thin as a young kid and teen, since the aroma was a treat in itself.

Uncle Bill did have an annoying habit. When seated at the table, he'd rock his right leg continuously. It gained in momentum while he sat there, and sometimes he was able to shake the whole room and everyone in it. I kept waiting for the take-off. He did that until Aunt Rose finally yelled at him. No one else dared, except for Nana, his Mom. Then we'd have a welcomed pause until he started again. I think he did it unconsciously or maybe to get Aunt Rose riled. Who knows?

Nana made a lot of cakes, but her specialty was pineapple cake [my favorite anyway.] She made a white or yellow layer cake from scratch and there was a pineapple filling between the layers and on the top. Nana's recipes---of which there were plenty---were rather un-specific: a pinch of this, a pinch of that, a handful of this, etc. That pineapple filling was made from a can of crushed pineapple, coconut, and flour [to soak up and thicken the pineapple juice.)] For those of you who want to try making that concoction, it has to be heated long enough to cook the flour. Otherwise, you'd have a strange tasting mess. Nana's cakes were great stuff, especially the pineapple and the pineapple upside down cake. That cake always looked great with the pineapple rings and cherries on the top---err bottom. Her other recipes, as prepared by Mom, were taste sensations as well, especially turkey stuffing made with eggs, sage and unsliced bread; fruitcake [a holiday treat because it was dark and tasty---also soaked with rum for a month]; bread pudding with a sweet sauce, macaroni and cheese, and various soups and stews.

During those years we tinkered with arts and crafts. Naturally, we finger painted, colored with crayons, and built things from Popsicle sticks [we had to save them ourselves as bags of them weren't available to us.] We also used a little plastic, hollow tube with four points we called a “Knitty Knobby,” although it was officially known as a “Knitting Knobby.” We'd use that little doo-dad to knit narrow tubes, usually with no known purpose, although some people circled the tube and sewed it together to form a potholder or something. We just made the tube, and continued on, usually because we didn't know how to end the damn thing. We'd also be unable to start them without help.

It took more knitting knowledge than we had. Aunt Rose would always help us. She ran a local dressmaking factory and knew all about sewing. Mom was no slouch either. She made many of our clothes and costumes, and she altered even more to fit the person or occasion---read “hand-me-downs.”

When we couldn't find the plastic forms, we could use a large, wooden thread spool and a couple of brads tapped into one end. We could always find knitting needles or use the plastic ones included with the sets. We certainly bought and lost enough of them. Our family circle was thus filled with these long, knitted snakes. They became temporary necklaces, bracelets, wristlets, and anything else you can fashion from a long tube of knit thread.

Another of our crafts was the weaving of potholders from cloth loops. We bought the latter in bags. They were pretty much all the same (though some were more elastic than others,) and with the little square loom we made little woven cloth squares. I suppose if you connected them, they could make something bigger, but we never knew how to do that. Consequently, we made potholders---lots of potholders. We kids were a cottage business. The Turi and Stevens Families were awash in well-made and poorly made, cloth-loop, potholders.

We only knew how to use a small crochet needle to finish the edges and give the potholders a final cloth loop hook. We weren't able to put them together to make larger items. Since the loops came in various colors, we could also make a myriad of designs...