Memorial Day and Red Meat

BBQ

All you self righteous pundits who have played the guilt cards and chastised us this Memorial Day, about Bar-B-Ques, parties and such, GET A GRIP. It is true that Memorial Day has a much deeper meaning, but you miss the point. Ten to one most of them have not lived through a war that threatened the very base of those outdoor pastimes. I lived through WWII as a child, praying our boys would “beat the hun”, that they would be safe in doing so, and selfishly worrying if I was going to be okay. Red meat was a rarity in our home during the war, and Bar-B-Ques were unheard of. For over four long years of my childhood, the war slogged on, our boys persevered and were victorious. I remember how glorious was the day the war was over.

Every Memorial Day I find the best piece of beef I can afford, throw it on the Bar-B-Que and let it smoke and sizzle. I savor the juicy meaty flavor and firery aromas and thank God and every Allied soldier, that has laid down his life for my right to indulge.

So……you snowflake talking heads, who want to make me feel bad about celebrating Memorial Day with a Bar-B-Que, listen up. Unless you are a vegan, (which you probably are), next Memorial Day (one of the two biggest BBQ days in America, and there is a reason for that) go out and buy the best piece of red mead you can afford, grill it up and salute the great men and women of our great society that have given their lives for you and the freedom you have to do that. Stop the guilt crap for crying out loud.

Floaters? Who Needs Em?

Floaters

One day when I was learning to fly, my flight instructor asked me what the pattern altitude was for an airport at which we were preparing to land. In order to answer I had to locate the airport in my Jeppesen Pilot Manual. That was easy, it was in big, bold print and easy to find. Next I had to locate the runway elevation and then add 400 feet. I hemmed and hawed for what seemed a lifetime and sheepishly looked over to my intrepid instructor, Gary Jestice and said, “Print’s too small”. “That’s it, no more flying until you get glasses”, He harumphed with authority. So I started wearing glasses when I was 40 and lost at 6500 feet.

The glasses got thicker and thicker as time went on, when along came cateract surgery. I first registered my desire to have cateract surgery when I was about 67 or so. Dr. Janet, my supersweet Optometrist, who I taught to make fresh pasta, told me she didn’t like to recommend cateract surgery until age 75 or more. Finally the day arrived and 20-20 returned. Everything went fine until I started to develop an irritating haze. No problem, Zap, Zap with another laser and it was gone, or so I thought.

Two years of marvelous, clear, un-squinting vision ensued. One morning I woke up and there were two worms swimming in my right eyeball. “Floaters? What the hell is a floater?”. I asked. That happens when your eyeball tears away from your retina. Dr. Janet and I looked at the orange eyeball photos she began to amass on her computer, and sure enough, there they were, floaters. I asked a million questions, fearing some worsening condition and the upshot was, “Live with them, the cure is worse than the condition.”

Living with a floater is easier said than done. For the first week I would swear that something was skulking in my peripheral vision so I constantly jerked my head to see what is was, …… nothing. When the one in my left eye occured, I was sure there was a small bug crawling across the arm-rest of my Lazy Boy, and I constantly looked down, but he scooted off before I could swat him.

Eventually your brain says, “These aren’t worth looking at.”, and they drift off out of your field of vision. I imagine that the drifting off will continue, but I wonder what it will be like when the area they drift to gets filled up with so many of them that they have nowhere else to go but back into your field of vision. I’ll worry about that when it happens, I suppose.

To Blog Or Not To Blog?

Blogging

Blog: a website that contains online personal reflections, comments, and often hyperlinks, videos, and photographs provided by the writer; also :  the contents of such a site; i.e. Blogger.

Thoughts and ideas often come to me, that energize me in such a way that I have to share them. It’s not that they are necessarily earth shattering, or momentous or colossal, rather inescapable , inexorable and unstoppable. I get a burning NEED to put pen to paper and (via Word) and share.

I haven’t felt that need, of late, because I am so bummed by the current political commentary that it has invaded and decimated my yearning to communicate.

I have subscribed to the local newspaper (where and when I could) for nearly forty years, avidly reading the news, chuckling with Mallard Fillmore, and puzzling the crosswords. Peter Jennings was a fixture on my six PM TV fare and I replied him a fond “Goodnight” at the end of each broadcast. Since his early death from cancer, “over 9/11”, I have searched for a replacement, finding no one, save Bill O’Reilly, to take his place (and we see what happened to him – ‘come back Bill, wherever you are’).

I can’t stand the Political news segments on any of the uber biased liberal prime time news stations; and since USA today came to town and liberalized our moderate newspaper; I have none of my lifelong habits to fall back on, the habits that gave me a sense of stability, patriotism and belonging.

In eight years, my world has been turned upside-down, sideways and backward; not a good place to be at my age.

I have ordered Will Shortrz’s puzzle books, found comickingdom.com/mallard-fillmore on line, watch local TV News and have found a new sense of self, order and serenity. F— the Prime Time Political News reporting.

I hereby promise to continue to share my thoughts and ideas with any of you that care to listen, and do it lovingly, enthusiastically, and devotedly.