Another self-guided tour through my convoluted thought processes and observations. Please wipe your feet before entering. You wouldn’t want to be responsible for me having a dirty mind.
Because of the *let-us-help-one-another* Mennonite mindset, this area has been the birthplace of several, large, well-known insurance companies. In keeping with my mission of being older than everything except the local rocks, I received a renewal notice for my home insurance. My provider included a note which bragged that they have been in business for 175 years.
I have Googled myself. Oh, the Ego of it all. (But it felt good.) The only person with the same name and middle initial who comes up, is a retired US Air Force colonel, who went on to become a motivational speaker. He’s appeared locally a couple of times, a few years ago, though I didn’t know it.
Recently, I thought of a friend I had for a couple of years during my teens. While he was a couple of years younger than me, we were both over-average nerdy, and loners, therefore, we hung out and fit together nicely. Named for his uncle Elmer, his first name was actually Delmer (D’Elmer). There not being a lot of Delmers in the world, I tried to look him up, and was sadly surprised to find that he had died two years ago.
He was one of the guys who helped me *adopt* the naïve young tourist in my Unreasonable Expectations post. He was 50 pounds heavier than skinny me, and the cool kids razzed him about being fat, but most of it was muscle. He would dive from as high as I would, and sneak into the water like a greased seal, raising less of a splash than anyone else.
Also dead, from that same crew, was an Indian from the res. While he was a year older than me, these two both died two years ago. Not as surprising, but still disappointing, was a notice of the recent death of the wife of the couple who owned and ran the beach bowling alley from my Bowling For Summer post. She was the one who served us crisp, golden French fries when we were done swimming. In her thirties when I was a teen, she must have been like my mother, into her nineties when she passed. Tempus fugit!
John Wayne made a hockey movie….Whaa?? Never east of the Mississippi until 1930, he was the lead in a 1937 sixty-minute flick about the non-existent, New York Panthers, called Idol of the Crowds, two years before his break-out role in Stagecoach. He valiantly laced up, and could skate fairly well in a straight line, but any *hockey moves* had to come from camera angles. Usually clean-spoken, he was quoted as saying he spent two days in a hospital, probably with a sprained ankle, because, “I’m from California. I’ve never been on (expletive) skates before!”
If time is money, does that make ATMs time machines??
I exercised my franchise and voted in the recent Provincial election. Despite having let them waste $4/5 billion dollars, the mindless, entitled yobs in the big city voted the same rogues’-gallery back into power. Please, Nanny-State, we’re too stupid and lazy, waste another billion or two – but take care of us. My grandson was going to have to pay off the already existing debt. Now I just hope that he never has kids.
Since the road which runs behind my house was the electoral boundary line, on my side were election signs for four or five different parties, while on the other side of the road were the same parties, but with different candidates. Always interested in the word-value of names, I looked a couple up.
A candidate on my side was named Weiler. Her name, in German, has the nice meaning of hamlet, or small village. Her compatriot across the line was Wettlaufer. I don’t imagine he discusses it much. It translates to *bookie*, one who bets on races.
I took the wife and daughter to a plant nursery recently. Patiently wandering around, waiting, (yeah, right) I ran into the Bidens. They are small, pretty flowers with two little rabbit-ears on top. The person/people who discovered and named them felt these little protrusions looked like teeth. Biden = bi-den = two-toothed. So Joe Biden is related to plants, although I suspect he was adopted. He’s not as good-looking, and nowhere near as smart.
There’s a small hotel in the neighboring city. It began as the manor house of the local brewing family. It has a strip bar in it, which….I might have gone into – once – just to ask for directions. It has become the House of God on Sundays. Some time between last call Saturday night, and two-for-one lap dances Sunday evening, a team of volunteers cover the nudie posters, and $4-a-beer signs, and turn the bar into a church.
For a few hours on Sunday afternoons, the gentlemen’s club becomes a Holy place, a social place, and a place where people in need can find safety, and trust, and food. They may also find God, but that’s not the main goal. This is a place of Christ-like support and acceptance for strippers and druggies and drunks who, too often, find themselves excluded and unwanted in mainstream churches. Good on ya all!
Walking past the coin-counting machine at the grocery store recently, I spotted and grabbed four discontinued pennies from the overflow tray. When I got them home, I found that three of them were 25 Ore coins from Denmark. I have several Danish coins, but not that denomination, so I added the newest, cleanest one to my collection.