Kodak files for Chapter 11 bankruptcy protection

Eastman Kodak Co. of Rochester, N.Y., filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy protection this morning.

Like most photographers who got started before the digital photography resolution, I used a lot of Kodak film

My first camera was a little Brownie Holiday Flash like the one in the photo. My first camera is long gone, but I found this on on eBay a few years ago. It takes 127 film and yields 4x6 prints.

My parents bought it for me in the summer of 1955 when we went to Yellowstone National Park.

Over the years, I’ve used Kodak 4x5 sheet film in cumbersome old Speed Graphics and miles and miles of Kodak Tri-X black and white film. I used so much Tri-X in my Pentax Spotmatics that I found it cheaper to buy it in 100-foot rolls and load my own reusable 35mm cassettes with a bulk loader. I used to process and print my own black-and-white images but relied on commercial processors to develop and print the stuff I shot on Kodachrome and Ektachrome.

I switched to Fuji and Agfa color films in the 1990s because I wanted more color saturation than I could get from Kodak films.

Kodak partnered with Nikon in the mid-1990s to produce the first real digital SLR, but somehow they failed to exploit their early digital advantage.

Chapter 11 doesn’t necessarily mean the company is done for. Kodak may emerge as a leaner, more competitive company once the reorganization is complete.

I hope they’re around for awhile. I just bought a Kodak copier/printer a couple of months ago and would hate to have to retire it prematurely for lack of ink cartridges.

Horrible

Damn! A cold!

After several months of good health, I find myself fighting a head cold.

My biggest concern with these things is that they shift to my chest and leave me coughing long after all of the other symptoms have left.

Encouraged by the way hemp seed oil alleviated my sore throat and throat swelling, I’ve continued to gargle and swallow hemp seed oil first thing in the morning and last thing at night.

And I’m taking maximum doses of Benadryl to try to dry up my head.

The upshot is that I feel very sleepy, but I hope I can slow the advance of the cold enough to let my immune system get on top of it before it turns into a chest cold.

Hemp oil sore throat relief

I went to bed with a little upper chest congestion and the vague feeling I was coming down with a cold.

I awoke about 2:30 a.m. with the most painful sore throat I can remember, the result of sinus or post nasal drainage. I gave it a couple of shots of Cepacol throat spray and two aspirin and managed to get back to sleep, but it was even worse when I woke up again at 6:30.

Remembering claims that hemp oil alleviates pain and reduces swelling – my throat was so swollen that it felt like I was being choked and it was hard to speak – I padded out to the kitchen, got the hemp oil bottle out of the refrigerator and gargled and swallowed a big slug of the stuff.

The pain was gone inside of 20 minutes and now – about two hours later – the swelling has receded.

Would I have had the same results with olive oil coating my throat and protecting the tissues from the irritation of drainage? Maybe, but I think this goes beyond simple protective coating.

All I know is that I was ready to take my wife’s advice and report for morning sick call at our doctor’s office to get a cortisone shot to reduce the swelling and now I’m almost completely recovered.

Horrible, nasty, syrupy sweet wine

We drive over to Mr. T’s Riverside, just across the state line in Missouri, every now and then to raid their clearance wine selection.

Most of the time we find good, but underappreciated wines marked down to $5 a bottle.

The selection was sparse this time and the only red wine they had was Augusta River Valley Red “Missouri Table Wine.”

The Missouri origin should have been the tipoff. We bought a bottle of blackberry wine made my a local Missouri winery back in November when we were en route to Carthage, Mo. to buy a puppy. It was syrupy sweet and undrinkable.

Not wanting to stereotype Missouri wines, I imagined this “Missouri Table Wine” would be tasty, yet dry – kind of like a Chianti – so I bought three bottles of it.

I removed the twist-off cap from one bottle and poured a glass as soon as we got home.

Ack!

It was sweet, nasty-sweet like the Mogen David swill my mother used to drink.

So until I get proof to the contrary, I’m going to assume all Missouri wines are undrinkably sweet and put Missouri on my wine boycott list along with France.

Cheddar’s–good food, insanely slow kitchen

We drove into town this morning intent on a late breakfast and some grocery shopping.

It was about 11:35 a.m. when we decided to try the new Cheddar’s Casual Café that opened a couple of months ago. We’ve cruised the parking lot a couple of times previously, but decided the place was too crowded for immediate seating.

This morning was no exception. The foyer was jammed with people, mostly families, waiting to be seated in the absurdly noisy main dining area and the wait to be seated was estimated at 20 minutes.

Learning there was immediate seating in the bar, we found a table there and waited for someone to notice us. A pleasant waitress came around after about 10 minutes and took our orders – two three-cheese hickory burgers. Then began about a 40-minute wait for our food, a wait that I considered intolerable.

The burgers were excellent when they finally showed up, but the damage was done. It will be a long time before I let the Cheddar’s kitchen waste my time again. I didn’t blame the waitress because she has no control over kitchen efficiency and tipped her the standard 20%.

Wildlife in the side yard

Bushnell sent me a new trailcam after the one I bought last spring crapped out.

I set it up facing the woods in our side yard on Jan. 6 and pulled the SD memory card this afternoon to see what we had.

We got lots of footage of a group of four does helping themselves to the pile of corn I put out for them. Also at least three bucks, one of them a six- or eight-pointer.

But I think the most interesting sequence is this one where the four does hear a coyote sneaking up on them and head for cover.

Water wars

This is the dog watering station I bought shortly after we arrived in Arkansas four years ago. It served us well until Jack the Aussie pup decided it was a dog toy and started knocking the 2.75 gallon jug off of the stand and batting it around the back porch, dumping the water in the process.

It only took about a week of this abuse to crack the jug. This destroys its ability to hold the water in place by vacuum and causes the water to overflow the feeding bowl until the jug is empty.

Dogs need ready access to water, so I went to Petco in search of a replacement. I found this Petmate Replendish waterer with a 4 gallon jug with a bayonet locking mechanism that secures the jug to the stand.

Since a pint of water weighs a pound and there are eight pints to a gallon, the filled jug weighs a hefty 32 pounds. Twist-locked into place, it should withstand the battering of a four-month-old Australian shepherd puppy, I reckoned.

I reckoned wrong. Even though Jack is just a tick over 30 pounds, he had the jug detached and emptied within 10 minutes of its debut on the back porch. I didn’t witness the actual deed. The first clue I had that something was amiss was when I heard the jug being bounced around on the concrete. How in the hell a 30-pound puppy can defeat a waterer that outweighs him is a mystery, but I think it has a lot to do with him being an Aussie.

So the new waterer has been moved into the back hallway, just inside the back door and I’ve taken to refilling the base of the old waterer from a pitcher a few times a day in the hope that Jack will settle down and realize that dumping his water results in unquenched thirst.

Reagan proves, once again, that a good joke is based on a truth

Too good to be true? We’ll see

A friend who has a dog with health problems visited over the weekend and was lamenting the fact that drug laws make it illegal to make healing oil from the marijuana plant.

I did some online research and found there are several quite legal purveyors of hemp oil, which is expressed from the seeds of the non-psychoactive hemp plant.

The brand that caught my eye is Nutiva, which has a 4½ out of 5-star rating from Amazon.com customers and tons of impressive reviews. Here are some examples:

• I am already feeling the benefits as I have colon cancer, and the Hemp oil has helped regulate my system and kept my energy levels up.
• I've been able to drastically diminish the affects of my asthma. I was using 4 puffs a day on my inhalers and now my down to a couple of puffs a week. Omega 3s decrease inflammation, which is the source of many of the health problems we have today from asthma, arthritis, and even depression.
• I bought this product because my fiancée has irritable bowel syndrome and always has painful bowel movements accompanied with nausea. After using this for a week I saw instant results! He is feeling so much better and looks healthier! This is better than any of the medicines that were prescribed.
• Stuff cures many things. Unlike other reviewers, we find the taste DISGUSTING - tastes like you would expect grass clippings to taste, flying out of your lawn mower. But that does not matter. One daughter caught foliculitis. Hemp oil cured it. (Applied externally, and taken internally.) One son caught a nasty MRSA staph infection at the local school gym. Doc put him on antibiotics, which ultimately failed to cure the problem. After that, we tried hemp oil, and it worked - quickly. (Again - internal and external applications, several times a day.) Experience seems to be that we all need more oil, not less, as long as it is good oil, like this.
• I suffer from Rosacea, which for me, is basically a bumpy rash on my face that burns and itches simultaneously (and looks hideous). I heard that Hemp Oil could help, and for the price was willing to try anything. What I found was astonishing! It was instantly soothing and much of the rash cleared up overnight. It's also a light, non-greasy moisturizer that doesn't make the rest of my skin break out. I have spent hundreds of dollars on prescriptions that did nothing but make my face burn and itch more and in months could not do what this stuff did in days. My rosacea is not completely gone. I still have flare ups, but it is under the best control it has ever been. I am not a doctor and have no idea why this works, but in my opinion its a miracle. Plus, it makes a darned tasty salad dressing too. What other product can do that?
• I take a daily tea spoon of hemp oil and let me tell you, this thing killed my toe nail fungus in about 3 weeks and also cured my light arthritis on my hands. I know this hemp oil has trace amounts of THC and I'm sure that's what helped me with my ailments. I would highly recommend this product and i will order again.

So I ordered a 24 ounce bottle for $12.10 (free 2-day shipping with my Amazon Prime Account) on Sunday afternoon and the UPS guy brought it to our house late yesterday.

Some people like the taste and some hate it. I’m somewhere in between and, by no means, consider the taste to be a deal-breaker. I slurped down a tablespoon of hemp oil last night and again this morning.

My digestive tract has been unhappy ever since I got food poisoning at a local restaurant, so I’m looking for improvements in that area.

Time, as they say, will tell.

Bud Select? Horrible mistake.

I drove up to the county line beer store last evening – we live in a dry county, you know - because I thought it would be nice to have some beer while I watched the Alabama-LSU game.

I decided to try something new and bought a 12-pack of Budweiser Select. It was my first – and last – Budweiser Select purchase.

When I got home, I put 9 bottles into the fridge and poured three into a big liter-size glass Spaten mug. The first taste was uninspired and before long, drinking the stuff turned into a chore. By the time I gave up on the game, late in the fourth quarter, I’d only consumed about two-thirds of the liter. The rest went down the kitchen sink.

This is a Budweiser attempt at a low-calorie beer. It has a flat flavor and no character and I’ll never drink it again. I’ve never thrown beer away, but there is no way I’m gonna drink this swill and I couldn’t possibly serve it to guests.

Are you a Democrat, Republican, or Southerner?

Here’s a little test to help you decide:

You’re walking down a deserted street with your wife and two small children.

Suddenly, a Terrorist with a huge knife comes around the corner, locks eyes with you, screams obscenities, raises the knife and charges at you…

You are carrying a Kimber 1911 cal. 45 ACP, and you are an expert shot.
You have mere seconds before he reaches you and your family.
What do you do?

THINK CAREFULLY AND THEN SCROLL DOWN

Democrat’s Answer:

• Well, that’s not enough information to answer the question!
• What is a Kimber 1911 cal. 45 ACP?
• Does the man look poor or oppressed?
• Is he really a terrorist? Am I guilty of profiling?
• Have I ever done anything to him that would inspire him to attack?
• Could we run away?
• What does my wife think?
• What about the kids?
• Could I possibly swing the gun like a club and knock the knife out of his hand?
• What does the law say about this situation?
• Does the pistol have appropriate safety built into it?
• Why am I carrying a loaded gun anyway, and what kind of message does this send to society and to my children?
• Is it possible he’d be happy with just killing me?
• Does he definitely want to kill me, or would he be content just to wound me?
• If I were to grab his knees and hold on, could my family get away while he was stabbing me?
• Should I call 911?
• Why is this street so deserted?
• We need to raise taxes, have paint & weed day.
• Can we make this a happier, healthier street that would discourage such behavior.
• I need to debate this with some friends for a few days and try to come to a consensus.
• This is all so confusing!

………… ……… ……… ……… ……… ……… …….. ……… .

Republican’s Answer:

BANG!

………… ……… ……… ……… ……… ……… …….. ……

Southerner’s Answer:

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
BANG ! BANG! BANG! BANG!
Click….. (Sounds of reloading)
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
BANG!
BANG!
BANG!
Click

Daughter: ‘Nice grouping, Daddy!’
‘Were those the Winchester Silver Tips or Hollow Points?!

Son: ‘Can I shoot the next one?!’

Wife: ‘You ain’t taking that to the Taxidermist!

Congratulations, Skip Hess!

My old Indianapolis News buddy Skip Hess will be inducted into the Indiana Journalism Hall of Fame on April 28. I plan to be in Bloomington for the occasion!

BLOOMINGTON, Ind.— Longtime "60 Minutes" correspondent Steve Kroft and retired Indianapolis Star and Indianapolis News reporter Skip Hess are among five people who will be inducted into the Indiana Journalism Hall of Fame in April.
The others selected for induction are Indiana University journalism professor David Weaver; the late Mark Ferree, a Marion native and longtime senior executive of the Scripps-Howard newspaper company; and the late Kate Milner Rabb, a daily columnist for The Indianapolis Star in the 1920s and '30s who also was president of the Woman's Press Club of Indiana.
-- Kroft grew up in Kokomo and has been a correspondent for CBS News since 1981, including more than two decades with "60 Minutes," and has won many national awards for his work.
-- Hess spearheaded numerous prominent investigative projects during more than 30 years as a reporter for The Indianapolis News and The Indianapolis Star. His work included exposing inhumane treatment of mentally ill patients at state hospitals that led to state reforms in the 1970s and disclosure of the misuse of taxpayer money, after which the state schools superintendent was convicted of official misconduct.
-- Weaver joined the Indiana University journalism faculty in 1974 and has done groundbreaking research about journalism and those who make it their career. He has written or co-written several books, three focusing on national censuses of journalists he helped conduct that were published in 1986, 1996 and 2007.
-- Ferree was a national free press advocate as president of the American Newspaper Publishers Association in 1960-62. His career also included reporting for the Marion Chronicle and the Evansville Courier, advertising director for the Indianapolis Times and vice president of the Richmond Palladium-Item.
-- Rabb, a Rockport native, was an author, historian and pioneering newspaper columnist, writing for The Indianapolis Star from 1920 until 1937 -- a time when few women had such opportunities. She was president of the Woman's Press Club of Indiana in 1929-31.
The Journalism Hall of Fame is also presenting its first Distinguished Service Award to Walt Tabak, who spent 25 years providing technical support to Indiana newspapers and broadcast stations that received The Associated Press. He is credited with helping steer many of the state's newsrooms through technical changes that saw the delivery of wire stories and photos go from the teletype days to satellite transmission.
They will all be honored during an April 28 ceremony at IU's Indiana Memorial Union in Bloomington.

Excuses, excuses

I apologize for the lackluster posts of late.

This has been a chaotic period, what with traveling to Indiana and becoming embroiled in the drama of Maria’s ex’s dysfunctional family. As much as we want to insulate ourselves from that pack of crazies, we’re forever connected because her ex is, after all, her kids’ father.

His father, the kids’ paternal grandfather, died on Friday night as we made the 7½-hour drive to Indiana.

We made sure the kids were dressed to the nines for the visitation and the funeral where it was obvious to all – including the evil stepmother – that they were the rightful and true bearers of all that is good and noble in the family bloodline. Grandpa was a prominent farmer and the kids were swarmed by longtime family friends who wondered aloud what had become of them after their father abandoned them for his three new stepchildren.

It was a stressful few days, but the social success of the kids made it all worth it. They carried it off with dignity and poise and made us enormously proud.

Now that we’re home, I can turn my attention to getting the Lexus repaired as a consequence of my distracted backing into a steel signpost in an Indiana restaurant parking lot. The repair estimate is $2,775.44, but the cost to me is the $500 deductible. And, of course, the damage to my ego.

And now that the holidays are in our rear view mirrors, I can make good on my pledge to sign up with the St. Bernards Wellness & Fitness Center and get serious about weight loss and muscle tone.

Somewhere to ride in 2012

Our post office box was jammed tight with a week’s worth of mail this morning – so tight that it took me a couple of minutes to wrench the stuff free without shredding anything.

Included in the postal deluge was my Arkansas Civil War Sesquicentennial Passport. There are 24 designated Civil War battlefields, historic sites, museums, cemeteries and landmarks scattered around the Natural State. If I visit each one and put its stamp into my passport, I can earn a commemorative coin or commemorative patch.

Sounds like a good excuse for a bunch of motorcycle rides in 2012.

If you’re interested, you can read more and request a passport at http://www.arkansascivilwar150.com/civil-war-sites/passport/

It’s official: 6,716 BMW motorcycle miles in 2011

 

I logged the I logged the odometer readings on my ‘03 K1200GT and K75S this morning and subtracted those numbers from the readings on Jan. 1, 2011 to determine I rode 6,716 BMW motorcycle miles last year.

Hardly my best year, but probably better than the average motorcyclist.

Homeward bound

Maria is taking a turn at the wheel and I’m online via my Sprint aircard as we roll south on I-57 through central Illinois.

We’re headed home after five days in Indiana, looking forward to reclaiming our dogs and wishing we had more time to spend with Indiana friends.

We dropped Morgan off at Indianapolis International Airport, which has been radically reconfigured since I was there last. Thank God that our Garmin GPS knew all the new routes in and out of the airport. Morgan should be well on her way by now, but we should be home before she is.

Bagels for breakfast

Truth be told, I like Einstein Bros. bagels better than Shapiro’s and maybe even City East Bagel from Memphis.

Einstein Bros. have a dizzying array of bagel flavors, including my favorite – asiago cheese. They also have my favorite breakfast bagel, the Santa Fe. So that’s where we went for breakfast this morning. Specifically, the Einstein Bros. Bagel shop on East 116th Street in Carmel, Ind.

We also bought a dozen bagels and a couple of travel mugs.

Then it was off to Quilts Plus where Maria shopped for fabric, and to Roberts Distributors to visit with our favorite camera saleslady Melanie.

We cruised Carmel’s quaint faux old Main Street and discovered Auntie Em’s Custard and Cupcakes, where we had some dessert and bought a half-dozen cupcakes to share with Maria’s family.

Attention burglars: skip to the last paragraph

We have great neighbors.

We had good neighbors when we lived in Thorntown. We lived between a pair of Mikes – Zimmerman on the north and Hankins on the south. Mike Zimmerman was a commercial electrician and cheerfully sorted out a couple of wiring problems for free and his oldest son mowed our lawn for a very modest fee. Mike Hankins and his family were unstintingly friendly.

We didn’t know anyone in our new hometown or subdivision when we moved to Arkansas four years ago, but we have since become friends with most of the families in our subdivision. Shannon and Sophie Holland, our next-door neighbors, treat us like family and invite us to their family get-togethers. Maria and Sophie swap cooking supplies – last week the Sunday morning trade was Bisquick for a can of tomato soup – and Sophie knows I’ll whip up a cup of espresso whenever she wants one. Tony and Misty Micenhamer live the next house over and, being on the entrance road to the subdivision, Tony keeps a sharp eye on every car and truck that passes. He and Misty are dog lovers and thoughtfully brought dog treats over for Ruthie after her knee surgery a year ago. They also opened their garage and home to Zeb and the recently deceased Frank, free range dogs belonging to the cattle rancher who lives on the other side of the woods from us. We consider the rancher, David Head, and his wife to be friends as well.

I don’t know if it’s because people in the South are friendlier or if we just got incredibly lucky.

It’s also nice to know that when you go out of town, you have hypervigilant neighbors, some of whom have guns and maybe would enjoy shooting burglars.

Adios, Bob. Kudos for Steve.

Bob Dunbar, Maria’.s ex father-in-law, died Friday night at St. Vincent Hospital in Indianapolis.

Services will be Wednesday in Jamestown, Ind. There will be drama.

On a more cheerful note, my son Steve was part of the opening act for Stevie Wonder on New Year’s Eve at the Cosmopolitan of Las Vegas. It’s a new hotel/casino.

Popular name

Petfinder has announced the most popular dog names from 2011. “Buddy” continues to dominate the doggy world for the fifth year in a row. The Twilight saga seems to have some influence over dog owners, as the name “Bella” appears high on the list. I’m pleased to see the name we picked for our Aussie pup – Jack – is on the list.

Dog Names

1. Buddy

2. Max

3. Daisy

4. Bella

5. Lucy

6. Molly

7. Charlie

8. Jack

9. Sadie

10. Rocky

Hey, Jack’s in the paper

Maria called yesterday afternoon to say they needed a photo illustration of a dog in a kennel to go with George Jared’s story on the Women’s Crisis Center partnering with Northeast Arkansans For Animals to care for pets of women who flee abusive homes.

I asked Jack, the Aussie pup, if he would like to help and he agreed. At least I think he agreed. He went into his kennel when I tossed in a treat.

So here he is, 2 columns wide, on page A8 of this morning’s paper.

Cute little guy, isn’t he?

Jack will be 17 weeks old tomorrow. He’s been with us 5½ weeks and is growing like crazy!

Checking my mileage totals for the year

I took Maria’s ‘94 BMW K75S for a pleasant 25-mile jaunt on Christmas Day, thinking it may be my last ride of 2011.

But the forecast calls for highs in the mid- to upper 50s tomorrow through the end of the week, so I may get a few more miles in.

My BMW mileage for 2011 stands at a rather pathetic 6,323 miles – down significantly from last year when I logged 9,343 miles – my best riding year since 2004 when I rode 10,163 miles and way short of my all-time personal record of 21,928 miles in 1993.

My Christmas Day ride was inspired by a visit earlier in the day by Jonesboro BMW riding friends Charlie and Deb Parsons, who showed up on their GS bikes to meet Jack the Aussie puppy. Also, it had been a month since my last ride on the K75S and I want to keep the battery up. I’d put it on a trickle charger, but the accessory plug isn’t connected to the battery and the battery terminals are buried under body work and mechanical stuff.

It was a pleasant ride up U.S. 49 to Paragould, then back roads to home along Crowley’s Ridge. Other than being blinded by a sun low on the horizon, it was a nice relaxing experience. Hardly any traffic and the delightful surprise that I’ve lost enough weight to let last summer’s uncomfortably tight First Gear Kathmandu riding pants fit, even with the quilted liner in place. It had me entertaining thoughts of riding to Daytona for Bike Week, even though I don’t much like Bike Week. It’s the ride to a warmer clime and a chance to sit by the ocean at Flagler Beach that lures me. We shall see.

I’m in town, having a free (I finally accumulated enough punch card holes) cup of coffee at Seattle Grind and getting ready to drive over to Petco for a fresh bag of IAMS puppy food. Then it’s off to pick up Maria for lunch.

Flashback

I had my iPod on shuffle the other day and “Citadel,” the second track from the Rolling Stones’ “Their Satanic Majesties Request” album came up.
The album, which was a huge departure from the Stones’ roots as a blues band, was released in the U.S. on Dec. 8, 1967 and was considered their psychedelic response to the Beatles’ “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band” that came out six months earlier.
A lot of Stones fans consider it a horrible aberration and hate it, but I love it and play it every couple of months.
The track took me back to the winter of 1967-68 when I was 22 years old and in my first year at The Indianapolis News. Specifically, it took me back to an evening when Bob Basler and I were working in his photographic darkroom in the basement of his mother’s house in the Broad Ripple section of Indianapolis. We were smoking weed and listening to this album, with special attention to the funky break that comes at about the 3:08 mark in “2000 Light Years from Home.”
It still sounds cool to my ears 43 years later.

61 years ago

Loving the Internet

The fancy-schmantzy ignition/entry/do-everything key to my Lexus is falling apart.

The case is supposed to fit flush to the key, but as you can see, it’s all whopper-jawed.

My first thought was about what a hassle it’s going to be to drive to the nearest Lexus dealer (Memphis) next week and spend an insane amount of money for a replacement. And, of course, this happens on the Saturday morning of a holiday weekend.

Hoping to learn what it will cost me, I Googled “2004 Lexus RX330 replacement key” and found iKeyless.com where I discovered I can buy just the shell (which is the only thing that’s broken) for a ridiculously reasonable $19.95. Assuming they are working Monday, it will ship then and be in my hands by mid-week.

Dealerships charge $175 for a replacement key.

I love the Internet.

The Pete report

Lab test shows Pete with a 280 reading where 100 is considered high, but it's been higher in the past.

Doc says go back onto the liver pills. We had a brand new box when he stopped taking them last summer, so we're well supplied.

He thinks Pete has a mild case of canine epilepsy - too mild to require medication. The seizures are too infrequent and too mild to make medication worth the effort and the toll the chemicals take on the body.

Only three years ago

These were the gas prices advertised at the Kroger store in Jonesboro, Ark. the afternoon of Nov. 8, 2008.

That was four days after Obama was elected and two months before he took office.

What are you paying now?

The Philco Model 41-295

Meet the Philco Model 41-295 console radio. It used 11 tubes and received AM as well as shortwave from 2.3 to 7 mc, 9 to 12 mc and 13.5 to 18 mc. It had eight pushbuttons; seven for preset AM stations and one for off-on control. It operated on 115 volts, AC only. The cabinet was a wood veneer and it stood 36 inches tall. The original price was $100. Adjusted for inflation, that would be $1,538.98 in today’s money.

I stumbled across one of these on Ebay this afternoon. The seller wants $125, noting it’s non-functioning and useful as a “parts” radio for someone restoring a 41-295.

These pictures brought back a flood of memories for me. My parents, who were married in April of 1939, had one of these radios. Since this model was made in 1940 for the 1941 market, it’s entirely possible my parents listened to broadcasts about the Pearl Harbor attack on their Philco.

My dad was a Ford guy and he favored Philco electronics because Philco was owned by Ford. Our first television, purchased just before Christmas of 1953, was a Philco table model.

I spent hours in front of our Philco console radio in the late 1940s and early ‘50s. Much of the time, it was tuned to WBAA (AM, of course. This was years before FM broadcasting), the Purdue University station in West Lafayette, Ind. We lived about 20 miles east of West Lafayette in Delphi.

One of the highlights of my day came at 5 p.m. when the Storytime Special came on the air and I got to hear a story read by the “Story Lady,” a Purdue coed, probably a radio or communications major.

I remember listening to WBAA afternoon jazz programming and wondering why they played so much stuff by the Art Van Damme Quintet. Maybe it was because he was a Dutchman from Michigan and there was, and is, a large Dutch Reformed community in Lafayette. Van Damme was considered the father of the jazz accordion.

Saturday nights, WLS in Chicago carried the National Barn Dance. One of the acts was Captain Stubby and his Buccaneers. Captain Stubby’s real name was Tom Fouts and he grew up with my mom in eastern Carroll County.

I had a little oak rocking chair, decorated on the back with a decal of a penguin, and I sat and rocked while I listened to Hopalong Cassidy, the Lone Ranger, the Green Hornet and lots of other programs that you can hear today on the Old Time Radio channel on SiriusXM satellite radio. (I still have the rocking chair. It sits in a corner of our living room and is the repository for dog toys. Every now and then I allow a visiting child to sit in it.)

Winter and Pete’s seizures are back

Winter came to Arkansas at 11:30 last night without me noticing it.

I generally don’t like winter, but I find Arkansas winters less objectionable than Indiana winters. I had 62 Indiana winters and that’s enough for me.

It’s raining here this morning and will continue all day with a predicted accumulation of about ½ inch. That means we won’t see the sun, which weighs heavily on my mood. At least the daylight hours will increase, starting today through June.

Pete came over and laid down on the kitchen floor next to my foot as I made my morning mocha cappuccino and it took me a moment to realize he was having a seizure.  The tipoff was the way he pressed himself up against my leg.

I knelt and comforted him until it subsided. He looked so freaked out and helpless lying on his left side, his right front paw trembling. This is the first seizure we’ve noticed since the summer.

He asked to sleep with us in our bed last night, which is kind of unusual and, given what just happened, makes me wonder if he wasn’t feeling good last night. He always comes to us when he’s not feeling well or about to have a seizure.

I’m going to take him to the vet this morning for tests. I suspect it’s time to resume his liver meds that the doc said we could suspend a few months ago.

Con-fuse-ion

My new (to me) Lexus has a couple of driver-accessible power outlets – one next to the radio on the dash where you’d expect a cigarette lighter, the other on a floor-mounted tray between the dashboard and the center console.

The lower outlet was dead, leading me to conclude that its fuse was blown. Consulting the owner’s manual, I was impressed to discover the car has nearly 70 fuses. Most of them are in a fuse box in the engine compartment and the rest are under the dashboard on the driver’s side.

The fuse in question turned out to be #64, bottom row, third from the right in the interior fuse box.

I first supposed it was an ATO fuse, but the illustration in the owner’s manual showed a min fuse. Since Toyota makes the Lexus, I reasoned I could get the requisite 15 amp mini fuse at the local Toyota dealership.

Not having found a fuse-puller in either fuse box, I had not removed the offending fuse and inspected it, so I trusted the owner’s manual and plunked down $1.80 for a 15 amp mini fuse.

When I got home, I used needle-nosed pliers to pull the fuse and discovered, to my dismay, that it was a low-profile mini fuse.

So it was back to Central Toyota where the parts department guy swapped me for the right fuse. I stuck it in the #64 slot and voila! the outlet works. So much for trusting the owner’s manual.

Envy

1. Wrath
2. Greed
3. Sloth
4. Pride
5. Lust
6. Envy
7. Gluttony

These are the Seven Deadly Sins, also known as Cardinal Sins. I can understand and plead guilty to six of them, but one – Envy – baffles me.

This comes to mind because there are a few of my Facebook friends, younger men, who are eager to let us all know how much they hate rich, successful people. Especially rich, successful people who want to hang onto what they’ve earned.

I can honestly say I don’t envy anyone for anything they are or have. Yes, I’d love to have more money – a summer home in the Colorado Rockies and a winter home in the Sun Belt and, just for the hell of it, a really nice place in Big Sur. There are lots of people who have all that and more and I’m happy for them. Either through hard work or karma or inheritance, they’ve come by it honestly. They didn’t cheat or steal to get it. And I don’t see how any rational person can begrudge them what they have. (If they did get it by dishonest means, I’d be crazy to envy them for something that will eventually destroy them.)

I guess it comes down to how I was raised. The message I took from my parents was that it was up to me to achieve and earn for myself, according to my level of ambition and desire.

They also taught me that jealousy and envy are shameful emotions and bespeak a poverty of spirit. So when I see these guys posting stuff about the evil rich – the same kind of horseshit you hear the Occupy Wall Street morons spouting – I feel profoundly embarrassed for them because they’re telling us about something really sad and weak in their character.

Like an early Christmas present

I occasionally throw out a low bid on an Ebay item just for the hell of it, expecting I will be outbid and that the item will go for a much higher price.

But once in a blue moon, I win the auction.

Such was the case a week or so ago when I placed an opening bid of $19.99 for this pair of Wallace China Westward Ho Boots & Saddle pattern cups and saucers.

These should have gone for upwards of $80, but apparently the Westward Ho collectors had their eyes on other stuff.

I’ve admired the Westward Ho line ever since I was 10 years old and my parents took me on a vacation in the West where we dined at restaurants that used this distinctive dinnerware decorated with cattle brands.

I rediscovered it on Ebay about 15 years ago and have since built a modest collection, mostly in the Rodeo pattern. Maria gave me a rather expensive Boots & Saddle dinner plate for Christmas several years ago and this was the first really good Boots & Saddle cup and saucer set deal I’ve seen in a long time.

It arrived, well packed in bubble wrap, this morning and made me very happy.

Phony tears for an evil dirtbag

This has to be the largest display of phony grief in the history of the world.

The pictures coming out of North Korea following the death of Kim Jong Il show hundreds upon hundreds of people, some of them standing at desks in what appears to be a classroom, wailing and sobbing in creepy synchronization. Do the North Korean propagandists really expect us to believe this obviously staged charade is a spontaneous, albeit regimented, outpouring of grief and despair?

Kim Jong Il is the guy who ruined their lives, imposed starvation and slavery on them and made their country a pariah among the nations of the world.

The only conceivable justification for tears is worry that his son and successor will be even more batshit crazy than was the father.

Another dog gone

We were playing Frisbee with Jack in the back yard this afternoon – Jack isn’t ready to catch a Frisbee, but he loves to chase it down and return it – when our neighbor came over to report that their dog Buddy was dead.

Buddy was a gangly young hound who would have been a year old next February. He was huge and getting bigger by the day.

He lived in a kennel behind the neighbors’ house, complete with a dog house. He liked to sit on the dog house roof and survey the neighborhood. His owners would let his run loose occasionally and he got on the bad side of other neighbors when he got into their garage and ate a bunch of popcorn and paper products last summer.

He was big and goofy and full of fun and he came visiting yesterday morning while our dogs were out in the fenced backyard. Pete didn’t much care for Buddy and they kept each other busy pissing on fence posts, one after the other, each wanting to be the last dog to mark the spot.

But Jack delighted in this new playmate and tore around the perimeter as Buddy ran from one end of the chain link fence to the other, back and forth, back and forth.

It turns out that Buddy was on a tether late yesterday while his owners were away from home. Somehow, he slipped out of his collar and went exploring. Unfortunately, his explorations took him to nearby U.S. 49 where he was hit by a car or truck and suffered fatal head injuries.

Our neighbor buried Buddy this afternoon under a pine tree behind their house.

This has been a hard year for dogs that we know. Son Steve had to put down Frank, Sean and Ruth had to say goodbye to Daisy, Free Range Frank died of injuries suffered when he was hit by a vehicle, we had to let go of Ruthie and now Buddy is gone.

Hug your dogs and keep them safe. They deserve it.

Flat Stanley is going home

I’m putting together a package documenting Flat Stanley travels to Memphis for young Jacob Shillings.

Jake, as you may recall, sent Flat Stanley to us a few weeks ago with a request that we photograph him somewhere interesting and return him with some mementos of his travels.

Here he is in front of the Elvis Presley statue in the I-40 Tennessee Welcome Center in Memphis.

I hope to get the package into the mail tomorrow.

The Lexus report

The car I had no intention of buying has won me over.

I’ve put more than 500 miles on the odometer in the past two days – Little Rock yesterday to send my watch off for service and Memphis today for bagels and to photograph Flat Stanley at Graceland and elsewhere.

This is, without question, the most comfortable and relaxed vehicle I’ve ever driven. I returned home both days without the feeling of having done something physically or psychologically tiring. I never realized what a struggle it is to drive my Honda del Sol and even our Subaru.

Now I’m wondering where to drive tomorrow…

(I keep telling myself it’s just a jumped-up Toyota.)

Roadtrip

I took the new car on its first road trip today – a 154-mile whirlwind run down to Little Rock to the only Breitling watch dealer in Arkansas to send my 11-year-old Chrono Avenger in for long overdue service.

That means they send it back home to Switzerland where the watchmakers inspect it and return an estimate of what it will cost to make it like new. Once they have my approval, they go to work and presumably I get my watch back in 40-60 days. I had it serviced once before, back around 2003, and it wasn’t cheap, so I’m expecting a sharp pain in the wallet in a few weeks.

But my wallet was kinda happy when I got back to Jonesboro this afternoon and pulled up to the pumps at Sam’s Club to discover the price of regular was down to $2.94.9 a gallon. That’s two cents cheaper than 24 hours ago. I seems almost miraculous to see gas under $3 a gallon.

The car performed splendidly, although the low tire pressure indicator light came on a couple of times. I looked at the tires and didn’t see any that were conspicuously low, but I’ll check pressures after they cool down from the drive.

There’s heavy flooding in the farmland south of Jonesboro and north of Newport which is great news for ducks. The sky was full of them and at one point the flocks were so dense the sky was almost black with an overcast of ducks.

Just because…

Sometimes, nothing satisfies like an R. Crumb cartoon.

Remembering a musical genius

Spike Jones would have been 100 years old today but sadly, he died in 1965 at the age of 53.

Weird Al Yankovic explains Spike’s importance in the music world of the 1940s, ‘50s and early ‘60 eloquently and puts what follows into context.

My parents took me to a Spike Jones concert at the Elliott Hall of Music on the Purdue University campus when I was about 5 years old. I was absolutely dazzled and saved the program from that evening in a scrap book.

Spike Jones and his City Slickers were the funniest thing I had ever heard and even today, I laugh out loud at several of his musical derangements.

Unfortunately, several generations have grown up without being exposed to Spike’s brilliant insanity. That is a tragedy. I can’t imagine a person being musically literate without appreciating the works of Spike Jones.

Here are some samples. Sometimes, they start out slowly, but stick around for the payoff:

I never planned to buy a Lexus. Really, I didn’t.

I had no thought of buying a car when I got up this morning.
Yes, I realize that our ‘94 Honda del Sol and ‘02 Subaru Forester are showing their age. Both are well past the 200,000-mile mark. The paint on the del Sol is blasted out, thanks largely to having to park it under bird-infested maple trees at our Thorntown house. The window tinting film is bubbling and peeling and there’s a piece of windshield molding flapping in the breeze on the starboard side.
It needs new shocks and new tires, but the engine and drive train are sound and, speaking of sound, it has a killer sound system thanks to the addition of an XM-capable Pioneer tuner/CD player. It’s still a fun car to drive and I figure it’s got maybe 50,000 more miles left in it – maybe more.
But I had to send Maria to work in it this morning because I needed the Subaru’s carrying capacity to haul Jack in a dog crate to the vet for his rabies shot and 14-week checkup. He’s thriving, having gone from 18.2 pounds three weeks ago to 23.6 pounds this morning.
By the time Maria got to work, she had decided that my del Sol is a ticking time bomb, a death trap. Never mind the air bags, she’s sure it affords as much crash protection as a cardboard box.
Not one to ignore what she perceives as a problem, Maria asked one of her reporters – a car guy who restores old autos and dabbles in re-sales – if he knew of any good deals on a used car.
Of course he did.
The next thing I know, I’m test driving a 2004 Lexus RX330 SUV. The car got severely beat up in a hailstorm last summer and was written off by the insurance company as a total loss at 78,000 miles. The reporter’s friend bought the car and smoothed out all of the dents with the thought of selling it to a dealer at a modest profit.
I told him I wanted to think about it and we went to lunch. I whipped out my netbook, checked out the Blue Book values and pulled up the CarFax to confirm what I’d been told about the car’s history.
Everything checked out and, recognizing that we’re probably going to have to replace at least one of our beaters in the next 12 months, the asking price seemed more than reasonable. More like a crazy-good deal. Unless, of course, there is a hidden problem lurking in there somewhere.
So we pulled the trigger and now Maria doesn’t have to worry about me getting smashed by a semi in my little cardboard box on wheels.

How I cured my Restless Leg Syndrome

When I started going to a chiropractor about 18 months ago and gave her my list of medical complaints, I mentioned that I have Restless Leg Syndrome. It typically hits me in the evenings when I'm sitting on the couch watching TV and frequently interferes with my sleep.

I don’t get the extreme burning and tingling that some people have with RLS, but my legs have to move frequently in an effort to get comfortable.

I didn't suppose she could do anything about it, but I was wrong.

She gave me a few packets of ElectroMix with the instructions to dissolve a packet in a glass of water. (Never mind that the instructions on the packet say to dissolve it into a liter of water for use as a sports drink.) That makes for a powerful dose with a pretty intense flavor, but I found it stops my Restless Leg Syndrome cold.

I'm writing this review because RLS woke me up about 3 a.m. today and I was able to get back to sleep easily after slamming down a glass of ElectroMix.

This, of course, isn't how the manufacturer intends for it to be used, but it sure works wonders for me.

The reason it works is that one cause of RLS is electrolyte imbalance and ElectroMix gets puts things back into balance.

If you can’t find it in a drugstore or other store, you can get a 30-packet box for under $10 on Amazon.com.

Checking in

I’m making a rare stop at Seattle Grind, having come into town to run some errands.

I won’t stay long because this place is like a freaking sauna. My Swiss Army knife thermometer says it’s 83 degrees. I suppose they have the temperature cranked up to offset the chill from the drive-up window, but 83 is a bit much.

Our tenant is now delinquent on his rent for November and December. He promised to send a check on Saturday to catch up, including late fees. Instead, we got a cashier’s check today for a little more than one-third of the amount owed. With no note of explanation.

This is making my head explode, which is why I let Maria do all of our communicating with this guy.

It’s almost embarrassing how much I love my dogs

 

I consider myself amazingly lucky to share my home with the two smartest dogs I have ever known.

Pete, the 5-year-old Aussie, and Jack, who will be 14 weeks old on Thursday, greet us every morning with boundless joy and enthusiasm.

Where the late great Ruthie the Wonder Dog accepted Pete grudgingly, Pete seems to recognize a kindred spirit in Jack, also an Aussie. He puts up with Jack’s pestering and play fighting and the only time Pete gets serious with Jack is when the little guy tests Pete’s alpha dog status in the realm of food and treats. Pete gave him a painful nip on the nose over the weekend when Jack contested a particularly tasty treat. Maria rubbed some Vitamin E on the wound and it’s healing quickly.

Both dogs are extremely affectionate and love physical contact with us. They rub up against our legs like cats and lie close, sometimes on our feet, when we sit to watch TV.

We occasionally let Pete sleep between us on the bed. Jack, who sleeps in a kennel in the bedroom watches everything closely and complained loudly the other night when Pete got to sleep on the bed and he didn’t. Get some bladder control, little guy, and your time will come.

Jack loves to retrieve tennis balls or whatever toy we care to toss. I have high hopes that he can be a great frisbee dog and will start his training soon.

A movie recommendation

Maria is always on the lookout for quirky independent films on Netflix, Amazon Prime, Hulu, or wherever and we found a good one last night.

It’s “The Price of Milk” set in New Zealand. I don’t give away any of the plot except to say it’s utterly unpredictable.

And it includes a dog named Nigel who goes around with a big cardboard box over him because he has agoraphobia.

Check it out.