Month: February 2018

Lies We Tell Our Kids

I’m borrowing these from Reader’s Digest this week.  Wish I’d thought of these lies we tell our kids.

— “If the ice cream truck is playing music, it means it’s run out of ice cream.”

— “Her Dad said if she looked after a special growing rock and watered it until it stopped growing, she could get a dog. She watered it and while she was at school, her Dad replaced it with a bigger rock.”

— “Toys grow under the weeds in the yard and if you pull the weeds, eventually a toy will pop out.”

— “They don’t sell replacement batteries for that toy.

— And a personal one:  Because my Daddy was a Southern preacher who was often in touch with Jesus, I’m cautious about this one. My brother and I prayed every night for a blue Schwinn bicycle.

Daddy said Baby Jesus provides for all our needs but maybe not our wants and besides it was rude to ask Him for something so specific. My brother said if he had a bike, he could get a paper route.

A bicycle soon appeared on the front porch of the parsonage. It wasn’t new.  It wasn’t blue, but it worked. Daddy never admitted to buying it.

Colin Tribe and grandson, Edward

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XbSdymLmocY

Faded Photographs

First of the year organizing brings up the same question each time.  How to separate the precious from the merely familiar? What to let go of? What to keep?

I’m the guardian of my parents’ memories.  Boxes of them.  Stacks of them. So many photo albums my camera couldn’t fit them into one picture to show you.

How to know which I’ll regret parting with?  What’ll be valuable to someone in the future? Do I keep all of this and leave it for my daughter to decide?  Do I call on the gods of technology and ask if there’s an affordable answer?

Sticky notes mark my feeble attempt to identify by decade

I’ve moved them around for years and don’t know if anyone else will want them someday. There’s the option to preserve them digitally, but there are so many of them. My scanner isn’t great and each time I start to scan one, I stop and remember stories. Obviously I’m not suited for this job, and I know I’m not alone. I’ve met other people whose garages belong half to them and half to the past.

During my own broadcast career I’ve let go of boxes of tapes, lots of shows and commercials, moving some to digital formats. That wasn’t hard to do, but this isn’t really my stuff, so here I am starting another year, still in possession of all my parents’ memories.
                                                        – – – – – – – – —
Thank you, Tony, for the music

Tony R. Clef, guitar

“When I’m sixty four”

I Love you,Taco Bell

By Anita Garner

Taco Bell I love you, yes I do.  This isn’t a commercial. It’s a love song. Every once in a while, I have to park near the sign with the bell. In the beginning, the bell was bright yellow. In Southern California, my brother and I drove from wherever we were to the first location in Downey and walked up to the order window in the tiny, distinctive hut. We surrendered that day.

Original location on the right, today’s look on the left.

I can say no to some things, but with Taco Bell, I don’t even try. It’s not a matter of if, but when I’ll stop by. Taco Bell calls me even when I’m headed in the other direction. I resist and resist but once in a while, when the day is full and the stomach is empty, I turn around.

So many reasons to love Taco Bell. some crunchy, some soft. This won’t take long because a very few ingredients are responsible for fulfilling all the promises of the menu. Ground beef.  Cheese. Lettuce. Tomatoes. Tortillas. Beans. Sour Cream. Red sauce. And also now chicken.I love that so many things can be assembled from these magic ingredients and served in different shapes.

The drink bar at most locations offers power to the button pusher. Fill the cup with ice and here’s my choice. Push the iced tea spigot. Move along and push for lemonade.  Mix them together. In California we call this drink Arnold Palmer. I call the whole Taco Bell experience perfect.