flaw in my plan

 I keep a small notebook in which I write ideas for blog topics.  

Today I read my last night's entry (I awoke in the middle of the night and penned it).

The entry:   "I've Got One.  Do You?"

I have not the slightest idea what this is suppose to mean.  No clue.  Maybe it will come to me in a dream tonight.  Don't wait up to see.

----

Since I'm here ... I made a mistake the other night and watched a show on PBS I think.  It has to be a local show in which they show a scary movie.  The hosts talk and talk and talk.  Someone has a different idea of humor than I.  

The best part is they showed an episode from a Flash Gordon serial from the late 40s or 50s.  Buster Crabbe plays Flash Gordon.  It is such a rotten show.  But, still, I enjoyed reliving the Flash Gordon serial.    We didn't get the Flash Gordon show out of the Lubbock TV stations.  Instead, once or twice a year my family would visit relatives in the OK city area (Edmond, etc.).  Flash Gordon played on their TV stations.  OK City TV stations had better programming than Lubbock's 2 stations - in my opinion.  And, to close, yes, Flash Gordon was terrible even back then.

over and out

Dr. Zarkov

MAY DAY

May 1st.

I don't know why May 1st is important to certain groups.  I seem to remember that USSR does a big May Day parade - showing all their weapons.  Why?

Some of you may not know this:  some communities celebrate May Day as a festival here in the USA.  

Okay, take in consideration that I am 84 yrs old.  

When I was in the 4th grade we moved to Crete, Nebraska.  Crete is just a few miles from Lincoln.  My father worked for Standard Oil of Indiana.  He ran a truck for the oil exploration in that part of Nebraska.  The wildcatters or whatever they were called, would drill a hole in the ground.  He would lower a listening device down the hole.  Dynamite would be set off somewhere and he would create a map of where oil might be under the ground.  He was a logger - not one who cuts down trees - but he would "log" what they were doing.

Because of this job, after WWII we traveled to several towns in Kansas and finally,  Crete.  From Kindergarten through the 5th grade, I spent only one year at any school.  We found a permanent home when I hit the 6th grade, Levelland, Texas - home of the Lobos  (some might spell it Loboes, but they would be wrong - we Lobos know how to spell).  

So there we were in Crete Nebraska for the whole year.  I can remember a few things clearly about  that 4th grade year.  Here they are:

1.  I was in the Crete H.S. band in the 4th grade.  The band room was located on the 2nd floor.  I had to climb a fire-type escape to get into the room.  I cannot remember any music that we played other than the Concert Bb scale.

 

Skip over this part if it is too complicated.  I played the cornet.  it is a Bb cornet.  When you play the Concert Bb scale, a cornet player plays the C scale - an alto sax plays the G scale - Trombones, flutes, bells, tubas etc. play the Bb scale...and so forth.  In my first day of band - remember that I am only 9 years old   - the director told us to play the Concert Bb scale.  And I did - I played the Bb scale.  That makes me one note off the entire time - ugly.  Finally, some big kid sitting next to me explained what I should play.  Understand, it is remarkable that a 9 year old can play the C scale - but, I also knew the Bb scale.  We move on.

 

2. In October of that year, my father bundled us all up for a drive to Lincoln.  President Truman was running for office.  He came in on a train - standing on the platform of the back car - we heard his speech.  I actually heard President Truman make a speech.  Who else do you know who can say that?  2 more things happened that day:  As we walked to the train station, police (secret service) stopped my brother Marshall - he'd of been about 13 or 14 yrs old.  They made him take his little brownie box camera back to the car.  they were afraid he might kill Truman somehow.  So we have no photos of that day.  None.

The second thing was that it started to rain as we drove home.  It rained so hard that places were flooding.  We live at the top of a hill.  My father had to pull over and stop.  WE walked to the top of that hill in the rain because it was too dangerous for him to drive up the road.  Really.  We had a 1948 black Hudson.  Fine car.  I believe people died in that Truman flood.

Another memory:  It snows in Nebraska.  There were piles of snow everywhere.  My parents, in their wisdom  bought us shoes that had ridges on the soles.  Several years later these were called Waffle Stompers ... where you stomped, it looked like a waffle.  At school recess, a big thing to do was to climb up a snow slope and slide down  on your feet.  The other boys wouldn't let me because my stompers cut ridges in the slope.  I was deprived.

In the spring, brother Jim & I walked to a playground and played baseball with the others.  I had really never played baseball too much - still haven't - but I had a glove.  They put me in the outfield with the other inept players.  My lesson learned:  someone hit a ground ball straight at me.  I put the glove down for the ball to enter.  Instead the ball hit the glove and rolled right up my arm and slugged me in the nose - one of first nosebleeds.  Since, I learn to use my free hand on the back of the glove to stop the ball.  Blood doesn't look good on leather.

FINALLY (you say), In April, the teachers began to take us outside to practice.  They had this pole with cloth ribbons handing down.  A student took a ribbon and walked in a a circle around the pole. Half of the students went clockwise, the other half went counterclockwise..  As you met a student, you went to the left of the student - then to the right of the next one - to the left of the next - etc.  This wound the cloth around the pole in a most pretty way.   Around you went until it was completely covered.

And, finally again, May 1st arrive.  Everyone turned out.  The children dressed in Dutch costumes with wooden shoes.  I even had a Dutch costume.  As the day went by we partied and did the May Pole event.  Never in my life have I seen this done since.  Maybe it is just Crete.  Maybe it is Nebraska.  I don't know.  

Now you know why I enjoy May 1st without the USSR parades.  The May Pole was a happening.  I wonder if it is still done today?

see ya,

Mtz

p.s.  I'm not going to proofread this.  Anything wrong?  Fix it.

Google analytics

Okay - stay with me here.  I was looking at my blog and it starts giving me an  "More on Google analytics"  bit.  Now, I can't say I know what they are talking about.  But, below is a chart they gave me with   ABSOLUTE NUMBERS.  I'm guessing these are views of this here bluggy.  I don't know -  since the inception some 10-15 years ago?  Or is it only the last 12 months.  Whatever - look at the top numbers.  Does this mean I have made friends in China?  Or is it just the old communist trolling for info in order to make me more poor than I am.

As I  have said on more than one occasion, retired school teachers are not flush.  We know how to flush (move the little handle down - flush).  I've known how to flush for years.  There is not much of a learning curve there.

So look at the numbers       - perhaps you have an opinion?  if the chart doesn't show up - put your curser in middle of the line and do some backspaces.  I think it will all show up.

The important thing is  I show   USA  at 393,  China at 190, Singapore at 35, and Hong Kong at 19.

moving on>  mtz

United States      393

China            190

Singapore        35

Hong Kong        19

Germany        14

Netherlands        6

United Kingdom        5

Belgium        4

Indonesia        3

Australia        2

Canada        3

France            2  all the rest are 2 or 1

South Korea

Bangladesh

Brazil

Ireland

Japan

Mexico

Palestine

Other

That was the week that was

 Back in 1962 there was a TV show named:  "That was the week that was."  I looked up the date.  It was a news show as I remember it. Google says it lasted 2 seasons and was nicknamed TWTWTW  or  TW3.  And according to them it was a satirical comedy.  Maybe (probably) I was too stupid or innocent or out-of-touch to realize it was satire.  I thought it was a news show explaining what had happened that week.  But, of course, I wasn't into politics at that time.  It could be I wasn't really paying attention.

So lemme see here now.  1962.  November, they said.  I got married in August of that year.  I was working my first teaching job half-day in Littlefield and attending classes towards my Master degree in Music Education in the afternoon at Tech. I'd leave Littlefield about noon - eat a sandwich on the road - and get back to Tech to make marching band rehearsal at 1 p.m.  My wife was finishing her Bachelor Degree in Education.

We lived in duplex type of thing in the north part of Lubbock.  It was truly a poor part of town.  If there were other students living there, I didn't know it.  $50 a month rent.  We bought a Siamese cat ($15) that we named Mice  (pronounced Mis-Sy).  We were so grown up.  Cooked our own meals.  Made our own beds.  Washed our own clothes.  Paid our own bills.

I remember waking up one night and that cat was perched on a shelf above out bed just looking down at us.  I think it was getting ready to attack.  Siamese cats can look pretty scary.  About 6 months later we gave Missy to a Levelland farmer.  He said the cat would be happier on the farm.  I have often wondered if this was just a thing created by my father because he didn't like cats.  

There are a couple of things I remember about teaching in Littlefield.  Boy I was innocent.  It's a wonder I lasted past the first week.   The head director had me teaching some beginner type classes by myself.  He would disappear and take a break.  High school band was the first hour.  He had them marching to King Size March.  I hate that march.  So many flats in the low brass.  Trombones never could find 5th position. I did learn some things about marching songs that season.  Keep in mind I was about 3 years older than the senior class.  I was so naive.

The week that was.  

Facebook

 I really dislike facebook.  Mine is nothing but advertisements and connections to junk sites that can only be interesting to - well, it's best not to say ugly things about other people.

Today on facebook,  I actually tried to post some stuff and put a few comments in other places. That is over for a while.  I found a message to me from 2017 from a lady with the last name Metze in South Carolina wondering if we were related.  I responded to her.  Actual answer would be, "I don't know."  But, my Metze family did come out of the Carolinas...years ago.

for those of you who are worried - I got my stiches out and am fine.  However, I caught myself messing with the scar twice last night in bed.  I've decided to continue with the bandaid at night.  Now, if that bit of news doesn't make 60 Minutes, I don't know what will.

I have to get out of bed several times in the night.  It is not for a snack.  Before I had the prostate cancer thing, I was getting up every hour almost on the hour.  Now, I have been able to go 2 or 3 hours at a time.  Even had a 5 hour sleep the other morning interrupted only  briefly by Anna barking outside my window at 7:30 a.m.  

Still, I have some leg/knee problems.  They don't really hurt - just a big ache at times.  I have found when this happens at night - I take care of my business - then, I take Sadie out back for her business turn - and, finally, I sits on the side of the bed for 5 minutes or so (trying to read facebook since I have little else to do at 4 a.m.).  When I return to the sheets, I seem to drift off okay without leg aches.  Thus, as you see, I return the conversation to Facebook.  It is truly mindless [both facebook and my conversation].   I RALLY do enjoy reading stuff about relatives, friends, and past students when Facebook lets me.  Commercials come first apparently.

That's enough.  Take care. m

nothing of importance (nothing to write home about)

 It's been a while.  thought I should just make a quick note or two.

#1  Happy Easter.  Hope all of you remain Good Eggs in the view of the world.

#2  Noted that my fee for keeping this blog is coming due in 3 days.  When I'm inspired, I enjoy writing and rambling.  $17 a year - about.  It seems like a worthy investment in nothing that will make the world a richer place.  Note:  I still do not have them put advertisements on my missive.  Who reads a blog and clicks on the advertisements?  I just cannot believe anyone does that.  I wouldn't.  But, times have changed.  Ads seem to clutter my page and make me feel beholden.    If'n I'm gonna' be beholden to someone, surely I can find someone better than advs.  (please note previous sentence had 3 consecutive words with asterisks - a world record for me)

#3 MOH Surgery.  Look it up.  If you see a dermatologist on a a regular basis and were out in the sunshine in your youth, you'll meet a Moh surgeon someday.  Skin cancer.  They's got's big words for that type of cancer, but who really needs to know all those big words if your not in the business ?  (only 2 asterisks that time)  A few years back my wife had a nose problem.  We drove up to a doc in Dallas who cut a hole in her nose.  It healed.  this doctor was about 7 ft tall, was raised in South Dakota, very pleasant - associated with U.S. Dermatologist Partners chain.  Wonderful experience - considering.

Naturally, not to let my wife out-do me, a couple of years later, they cut off part of my nose too.  This time a young lady (all doctors are young to me now) cut on me.  She sang through the whole process.  I inquired and learned she had studied voice - I forget where.  Nice change.  Now, my present  derm doc in Belton, noted a red spot above my upper lip a year ago January.  He asked me to watch it.  I did.  it didn't go away.  I told him this Jan.  He did an autopsy - wait, that's not the right word.  I wasn't dead.  He tested the spot.  We agreed it was bad.  And about a week ago, a young female doctor cut a hole above my lip & put in some stiches.  Yes, she had me in stiches.  She hummed her way through the whole process.  I wonder if she is the same doctor?

Short Moh explain:  Named after the doctor who invented it - Moh - I think calling it "MO" is funnier - they remove a part of you and put it under the microscope.  Somehow, they are able to see if the entire cancer was removed.  In theory, they come back in and take a bit more off.  Frankly, there is no pain.  The first TINY needle stick is the Worstest thing.  After that, you are numb.  No pain, No gain (or loss).  So once again, the skin problem is eliminated until they find another little red spot.  If you look at me or my wife straight on, you'll see the nose is not symmetrical anymore.  Mo !!!

My neighbor down the street had Moh on his head,  Apparently they stretched his skull skin over the cut area in such a way that it was quite tight.  I want to remark that it made his eyes slant upwards.  it didn't; but I thought that was a descriptive explanation - and funnyto see.  He probably would disagree.

#4  this is getting longer than I anticipated.

#5  I've noticed that I get my best ideas for this blog, blug, bluggy as I lay in bed waiting to drift off to  sleep land.  Who remembers what you think at that time of night?  I gots me a little pad of paper which is beside my bed.  I can make notes now.  I don't dwell on remembering inconsequential thoughts as I drift off.  Wish I had remembered to get a pen too.

#6  We'll call this last:  For several days, the weathermen have been saying, "Rain Friday, Saturday, and Easter Sunday.  It's coming.  Inch to 1 1/2 inches."  This morning at 5 something, rain finally came.  We have all of Point .17 inches.  That is less that 2/10ths of an inch.  Cheeeee  ruined my Easter morning.

 Closing.  Would you like for me to spend a while discussing the political scene?  I do have some strong views.  Maybe some other time.  Politics is a sure way to lose friends.

love ya, Happy Easter, say hello to a bunny wabbit

mtz 

An Irish Blessing

May your glass be ever full

May the roof over your head be always strong

And may you be in Heaven half an hour

Before the Devil knows you're dead.

=================================

And, yes, even with a last name of Metze, I am a bit Irish.  Of course, my first name is Irish too; but that's not the bit.  I come from an ancestor (Great Grandfather) name Toole.  He was not an O'Toole.  Because of certain legal problems, he changed his name to Smith; thus, my dearly departed Mother t'was born a Smith.

He and his brother [the GGfather] went to a dance in Arkansas.  During that evening, a fight ensued.  His brother shot and killed a man.  I don't quite understand the next part completely.  Because the brother was in danger of being hanged by a mob, my Great Grandfather confessed to the murder/shooting and was sentenced to jail.  Rumor is that my Grandfather actually witnessed the shooting - thus, explaining certain things about his character.

Eventually, he escaped prison - there is a story about a mass breakout at the Arkansas prison located along a certain river - he was one of the few to get away...several were killed.   Rejoining his lovely wife ( "LOVELY" - Afterall, she was my Great Grandmother, you know) he moved into Kansas and eventually Oklahoma.  He took his wife's maiden name, Smith.  This was in the late 1800s.   My mom was born in 1910...so...

My Grandfather somehow ventured back into Kansas and met my Grandmother Olive, a farmer's daughter.  The King Family farm in Kinsley, KS.  They were married and moved to Kaw City, Oklahoma where they had a hoard of children.  My Grandfather James M. Smith was a barber for most of his life.  I understand he was not a truly nice man - not a sweetheart.  I don't know - just rumors.

And, now you have it.  Yes, I be Scottish too; but, we'll save that Stone for another time and place.

Happy St. Patrick's Day!!!

my Irish eyes are smiling

m