Girl Number One

Today is a day of recollection. After posting this morning I reread an older post titled From Proms to Dear Johns.That little piece of history concerned my high school love affair. At the end of it I promised to write about Steve Star at some point in the future. Today is the future.

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Steve Star

My Grandpa Jim lived a solitary life on his little farm. To kill his loneliness and to make some extra beer money he took in a border named Steve Star, except his real name was Csillag Pista. Translated from Hungarian to English Csillag Pista becomes Steve Star. Steve worked doing labor in the pickle canning factory in Coloma near my Grand Father’s farm. Needless to say this is very seasonal work. Steve drove a very old Plymouth coupé, and drank cheap St Julian wine. He was a classic wino. I used his empty bottles piled high in the sand behind the barn for target practice with my 22 ca. rifle. He put them behind the barn to hide them from my mother who was anti-drinking on her watch. Steve was a drunk, stayed a drunk, and died a drunk. My mother had little effect on changing his habits.

After I got my Dear Joe letter in college I wallowed in a rut, and it showed. My friends began doing me favors by fixing me up with every girl that they could find. I resisted at first, but finally succumbed to my roommates tender of a string of dates from his fiance’s nursing school. It all began harmlessly as a series of letters to the girls suggested by friends that Steve Star take on a date. As a huge joke to myself I took the nom de guerre of Steve Star a hopeless cause. The letters became fodder for the school bulletin board, and unbeknownst to me, Steve Star became a mystery man who wrote stupid funny letters to the girls at Saint Anne’s. Eventually, Steve Star’s identity became known when I made a blind date with one of the girls during Christmas break.

It amused me when I sat in the parlor of Saint Anne’s waiting for my date to come down, and a nonchalant string of young nurses paraded through the room to look over Steve Star. The date went well, we had fun, and I got her back before curfew. I dated several more nursing students after that but not one rang Steve Star’s bell.

Later that year in July I had another blind date with a nurse who wanted to experience Steve Star. She was good-looking but not of model beauty. She stood about five-foot-four inches tall with short dark brown hair, and her waist was slightly thicker than the highly sought after women of the time. Her face was average, but she possessed uniquely sparkling dark brown eyes and a captivating smile. Her shapely ankles blended into calves formed like those of an athlete. She was off for the weekend so I picked her up at her home, and met her parents before she demurely descended the stairs.

Steve Star was a cheap skate and went on inexpensive dates, this time he enjoyed a Grant Park Concert on the lawn. The night was balmy, and the sounds of the cars passing by on the Outer Drive muted the precise sounds of the Grant Park Symphony Orchestra. We spent the night sitting on that blanket listening but mostly talking about school, and our families. Her father was dying of colon cancer, and she and her mother provided his care. She was the one who finally told me about the scene the Steve Star letters had on the nurses at Saint Anne’s. She had read all of them, as had most of the other girls in her class. A cool breeze drifted in from Lake Michigan as we folded our blanket to leave. I dropped her off and promised to call her at school.

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My luck held out, and I dated another girl named Sabrina. Sabrina had the model beauty men sought after. Slightly taller at five six she had long jet black hair, and big black eyes with heavy mascara and eyeliner above and below the lids. Wow! We went to the movies and a snack.  She confessed to reading Steve Star’s letters, and we kidded about his antics. I dropped her off on the front porch. I said goodnight and turned to leave, but she grabbed my arm and pulled me into the dark foyer for a goodnight kiss. The house was entirely dark and quiet. Steve’s mind shifted to more kissing, but she gently pushed him away and whispered “my parents and six brothers are asleep we don’t want to wake them.” I very quietly got the hell out of there.

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Girl number one

In the meantime, Steve had called his first blind date (Girl number one) and was becoming very comfortable talking with her. She with him as well. We dated again, and the subject of Steve Star dating Sabrina came up. Steve sensed danger and dropped the subject quickly; he got the message.

Steve Star dated Barbara exclusively for the next two years until he married her. He remained faithful “until death do us part.”

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October 14, 1961

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circa August 17, 2003

Memories of Memorial Day

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When I was a ten, my parents visited the cemetery almost weekly. Their mission was to decorate my oldest brother Joe’s grave. Joe died when he was seven years old. The last Sunday in May was always special because it was so hard to get into the cemetery.  World War Two had ended just a few years earlier, and Saint Mary’s in Evergreen Park celebrated like most Catholic Cemeteries did, they had an outdoor mass. Most times Dad had to park outside the cemetery, and we had to walk to my brother’s grave. The place crawled with VFW and American Legion Honor Guards dressed in the uniforms of their service, Navy, Army, Marines, etc. Gun shots were heard for miles away, as each post honored its member at the gravesite with a seven-gun salute.

Mom and Dad never called this holiday Memorial Day, It was always Decoration Day. It was the day when people who had loved ones at Saint Mary’s came to clean off the winter grave blankets and to replace it with live flowers. Mom spent a few minutes at the local nursery studying the floral grave designs, picked one, and bought the plants. It just occurred to me that she never had a blue print for the design, but always planted the flowers exactly as she remembered them at the nursery display. It was my job to run back and forth with a watering can to get water for the new plants.The funny thing is that in her later years she couldn’t remember my name or who I was; time does that to us.

After Mom finished Joe’s grave she went to my Aunt’s next. Dad and Mom knelt at each grave they visited and said a prayer of remembrance

Decoration Day was always sunny and warm, usually one of the first good days of Spring. It made spending a day honoring the dead a sorrowful, but joyous occasion. By the time we left it was near lunch. Dad drove us home in the big Buick, and Mom made lunch. The rest of the day caught us lazing around on a full stomach watching the grass grow.

The second PC newsletter

Originally posted on Just Cruisin 2:

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If I understand things correctly, we have a puppet
president telling religions to change their beliefs,
congressmen who claim they need a raise, Islam
being taught in our schools, more blacks living in
poverty and unemployed, and a government that is
taxing corporations out of America.

And who gets the blame? Not the black president,
or the the legislators who caused the mess. We
privileged caucasians get the blame.

We’ve lost our status as a super power, our
military might has been drastically cut, many have
no respect for our flag, and veterans are being
vilified. Again, it’s said the president isn’t to
blame, or the DOD, or the House. We privileged
caucasians get the blame.

There is no debating these people because facts
don’t matter, being a patriot is almost a crime,
and we’re privileged caucasians.

It doesn’t matter laws have been broken and our
Constitution ignored, not does…

View original 266 more words

What if We Didn’t Have a Constitution?

Grumpa Joe:

This author did an excellent job of presenting a series of questions that ultimately posit the final question the answer to which is horrifying.

Originally posted on Reclaim Our Republic:

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May 21, 2015 by Andrew P. Napolitano


What if we didn’t have a Constitution? What if the government were elected by custom and tradition, but not by law? What if election procedures and official titles and government responsibilities merely followed those that preceded them, and not because any of this was compelled by law, but because that’s what folks came to expect?

What if those elected to office, and those appointed to it, as well, took oaths to uphold the Constitution? What if those who took the oaths promised fidelity to the Constitution? What if the Constitution declares itself to be the supreme law of the land? What if the supreme law of the land means what it says?

What if all in government, from presidents to park rangers, from generals to janitors, from judges to jail guards, take substantially the same oath? What if very few who have taken…

View original 726 more words

An amazing life

Grumpa Joe:

This lady is my hero. She went back to college at age 102, and she can change the oil and spark plugs on a vintage car too. Take note of the start procedure she went through to make riot go.

Originally posted on Just Cruisin 2:

Margaret Dunning died this past Sunday while
visiting in California. She was born on June 26,
1910 in Redford Township, Michigan. Had she lived
until July 26 she would have been 105 years old!

Her death doesn’t make her interesting, her life
does. She got her first driver’s license when was
12 years old, spent her first 13 years on the dairy
and potato farm owned by her father until her dad
died, and had Henry Ford for a neighbor.

She and her mother moved off the farm and later
ended up in Plymouth, Michigan where she attended
the same country school that had educated her father.
She went to a private school, came back to graduate
from Plymouth High School, attended the
University of Michigan and then the Hamilton
Business School in Ypsilanti, Michigan.

She liked tinkering with old cars and worked for
a short time at the Phoenix…

View original 205 more words

Too Close For Comfort

Okay all you whipper-snappers out there who are under my age, I appreciate this song more than you know. Just don’t bother sending it to me again. Thanks good buddy Mike, these lyrics really made a point we should both remember.

We the Police

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Two minutes of TV news this morning caused my brain to melt and the big idea light to go on. Those of you who read me regularly know that I am a Patriot, and Patriots believe in defense of the US Constitution. Our government has tried its socialist ass off to fail our right to own firearms. They know that three hundred million people with guns would be able to take them down. They also know that we the people are thinking in that direction. There is one giant problem with this premise, i.e. who will lead such a grass-roots effort? Uncle knows that the three hundred million need a trigger. That many people just don’t wake up one morning and decide this is the day I take my country back. The trigger is someone who can organize and lead. Who among us will do that? Any attempt to make this happen will immediately bring uncle to our front door to knock it down.

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Uncle also realizes that there is one system in the country that could become the organizing link. The system in place to serve and protect is the police. The police are highly trained and armed in tactics to put down insurrections, robberies, murders, etc. They are nationwide and are a brotherhood who regularly collaborate. Police would be one leadership link needed by we the people to begin a necessary overthrow of a government gone wild. It is hard to imagine that our police would be up to that task when they work with local governments to keep law and order. It is a stretch but possibly one which could work when the time has arrived. This is exactly why I believe Uncle is now demonizing police and wanting to turn them into helpless wusses in carrying out their duties. The TV thing that tips me off is Obama’s latest order to keep military equipment out of the hands of local police departments. O believes putting military equipment into local hands could be used against him. I am one who believes arming local police will work against me, except perhaps in the case I describe above when we will need the police to lead us into action against a government that has forgotten that it is a government for the people, and by the people.

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This is the point when I go to say my prayers while waiting for the front door to come flying off its hinges as men dressed in black with full body armor, and pointing AK’s come rushing in to eliminate an old guy exercising his first amendment right.

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