Infused By Christmas Spirit

Posted on 09/12/2023 by Grumpa Joe

A few days ago I had the pleasure of attending a Christmas party hosted by my financial advisor. Much to everyone’s surprise Santa came to visit. As an adult, I don’t expect visits from Santa but when it does happen it is an enjoyable experience. Seeing Santa serves to enflame the Christmas sprit in all of us.

The very next day, I attended a Christmas party for OASIS for the Visually impaired. Santa did not participate in it, but one of his elves came to sing for us. His playlist was all Christmas songs. Again, it served to heat the fire of Christmas within us. I was so enthused that I finally decorated the house exterior with colorful mini lights. That extra spirit and fifty-degree weather with sunshine got me out of my chair to string lights. Usually, the Scrooge within prevents me from doing the job until Lovely gives me her evil eye and demands it.

I’ve decided to put up our Christmas tree tomorrow, which will complete my decoration tasks, but I still have Christmas cards to send and presents to buy before I am 100% stress-free.

I send a letter with my Christmas card every year, but this year (2023), I’ve decided to skip that tradition. I barely make it through a short post for GrumpaJoesPlace, much less a creative letter different from last year’s. All this writing is beginning to sound like work. We all know that work is a four-letter word, and I should avoid using it. I could write about how I spent nine months creating the wood sculpture I christened Libre, but nobody cares about Libre but me. I’ll have to use the trick my college professor taught me to make a list of possible topics, pick one, and begin writing about it.





















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Ryan’s Pub

Posted on 17/11/2023 by Grumpa Joe

Ryan’s Pub is my favorite watering hole after the Lions Club meeting room. Ryans has existed for as long as I can remember, which goes back fifty years. Unfortunately for me, I did not truly discover the pub as my place until after my wife Barbara died. I drove past it daily, at least twice on my way to and from work. The very first time I entered the pub was to attend a going away party for an engineer who worked for me. We all had a good time in a space that sounded trashy but turned out to be fairly respectable, not unlike a pub in England or Germany where the local folks go to have a round with friends and to chat and spread the gossip of the neighborhood.

When I began frequenting Ryans after Barb’s death, it was out of loneliness and things to do. I learned that many of my Lion friends also went there to relax and dump the day’s worries. There was a pattern established that I recognized and decided to belong to. Most of my friends went there at 4:30 on Friday afternoon to pick up a fish dinner to take home. While they waited for the fish to fry, they imbibed a beer or a glass of wine and shot the breeze about the days and weeks’ efforts to make a living. Alcohol does a fantastic job of loosening the tongue. The conversations left work quickly as the subject matters discussed turned to hobbies, family, women, and daily matters that didn’t resemble work in any way.

I went to Ryan’s this evening, hoping to run into my friends. For the first time, I arrived, and none of my buddies was there. I sat down at the only seat available at the bar, next to a friendly gent whom I began a conversation with. In the conversation, he asked me if I were a Vet. I said no, but I am a veteran of sixty years of marriage. “Oh my God, he said, that is great. Not many people can claim that long.”

“I have to qualify that because it took me three marriages to reach that goal.” At that, he began laughing hysterically and almost fell off his chair. “Hey everyone, this guy is a comedian,” he shouted across the bar. Just then, my friend Greg walked in and overheard what he was saying. “He is absolutely telling the truth. He has had three wives.” Fortunately for me, Greg saved my ass from any further embarrassment and led me away from the bar to a table. As we approached the table, two more friends joined us. The time went well as friends discussed the things that matter most to us. I bought a round of drinks, and then my order of Walleye pike dinners arrived, and I had to leave.

I am glad I overcame my fear of a bar being an evil place where only badass bikers congregate and start trouble. In Europe, Ryans’ would be referred to as the local Pub. However, Ryans is frequented by bikers who happen to be the local guys who like to ride motorcycles and drink beer with their neighbors.

Three cheers to Ryan’s and all other places like them.

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Tall Tales

Posted on 22/01/2023 by Grumpa Joe

This morning I got up at 6:30 a.m. to an early start. Since it is Sunday, I went to 7:30 mass at Saint Anthony’s Church in Frankfort. After mass I usually hang around to talk to my old time buddies. This morning was no different. One of my friends Gene, asked me “what exciting thing have you done today?”

“I woke up,” was my response, but Gene really wanted to talk about the weather. We woke up to a snow this morning. It was what we call a “dusting.” That is snow that is so fine that it looks like dust on the planet. It is now noon and the snow is still falling but the flakes have grown to the size of quarters. The air is so still the flakes fall vertically to the ground. Since the ground temperature is above freezing the flakes melt immediately. Gene commented on how mild our winter has been. I reminded him of January’s past when in 1967 we had a very mild month, and then the snow hit the fan at the very end. It didn’t stop until Chicagoland was stopped, dead still. When twenty-seven inches of heavy snow land on you it brings everything to a stand still. That is all it took. A group of us began telling stories about how we were affected. Gene’s family ran a grocery store and he told about a butcher who carried a quarter of a cow for half a mile from his truck to the store. That is one big hunk of meat. That story began a new line from Al. His story was a “remember when” they used to deliver ice to houses, and the ice man would use an ice pick to chop a huge block of ice from the really big block of ice on the back his horse drawn carriage, and hoist it up to his shoulder to carry it into the house. Back then not many people owned refrigerators, so we all had ice boxes. Not to be outdone, I told about the guy who drove through the neighborhood, street by street hawking fruits and vegetables. My mom would streak out to buy beans, onions, fruits, etc. for cooking, and the table. Wally chimed in with the guy who cruised through the alley’s behind the houses in his horse drawn wagon calling out “rags and iron.” He was the original Green movement recycler, and made a living off of it.

Anyway, I guess I could answer that the most exciting thing that happened to me today since I woke up was to participate in a fifteen minute “can you top this” discussion about the good old days.

On my drive home I wondered if bringing those services back to the front door would be a viable business today? It didn’t take me long to determine that it wouldn’t because no one is home during the daytime anymore. The modern lady of the house now works, and is not always at home to take advantage of such a service. A little more thought and it occurred to me that the modern family would substitute the internet for the horse drawn wagon and the man. On-line grocery shopping with home delivery has become a real thing since COVID hit our towns. In fact the on-line grocery store carries a lot more than fruits and vegetables. Another difference between then and now is that families don’t cook things from scratch as when we were growing up. There are far too many convenience foods offered in frozen packages that merely require defrosting and heating.

Filed under: Biography, Characters I knew, family, Food | Tagged: , , , | 2 Comments »

Rob the Poor to Enrich the Rich

Posted on 09/12/2022 by Grumpa Joe

Back when I was a kid I heard a story about a band of robbers who lived in a place called Sherwood Forest. The uniqueness of this band is that they didn’t rob to enrich themselves, and they didn’t rob from their fellow man. By now you know I am speaking of Robin Hood who became famous for robbing the rich to give to the poor.

There are many variations of this story developed by imaginative authors, and Hollywood movie makers but the origins were as I described. The story emanated from folk ballads sung in the 1300-1400-‘s. No one is left to explain what the real story is, but it doesn’t matter. Robbing the rich to feed the poor has been a mythical storyline that resonates with most folks. Robbing the rich to feed the poor is also the platform for early democrat, liberal, progressive peoples who need a way to make a living.

Fast forward to 2023. In today’s world I can relate Robin Hood to the Democrat party, and the Rich to the Republicans. Aside from the fact that in the year 1400 there were no defined political parties and the king owned everything. In today’s scenario the whole Rob the Rich to Feed the Poor philosophy has shifted. Currently the theme is to “rob the poor and enrich the rich.”

I experienced the phenomenon first hand again this afternoon as Lovely and I went shopping for sustenance. We came home with a small basketful of groceries and a bill for $204.67. Thank you Joe Biden from Sherwood Forest and your band of progressive bandits. I am waiting to see the account of how you have helped the poor with this massive spending. Instead I can see the effect on the rich who seem to be bubbling to the surface with government money intended to assist COVID strapped businesses. We also see how so many poor businesses, i.e the small guys who couldn’t make it have closed, gone forever.

I have consciously kept from speaking out against our current administration, but now I have experienced his Green New Deal reaching deep into my pockets. I will be vindicated someday, and my stance on the man-made global warming bullshit is just that, an excuse to steal from the poor to enrich the rich.

Truth be known, if every country in the world reduced it’s carbon emissions to below what they were a hundred years ago global warming might still take place. How will you bastards explain the hardship you put billions of people through to reach your taxing goal? The problem is that the poor people whom you so anxiously liberate from any riches will have evolved into the brow beaten zombies that you wish to rule. I predict a new generation of Robin Hoods will appear on the scene to start the cycle all over again. Instead of Kings there will be fat cats known as progressives who will crack the whip over your poor backs in the name of equality, and “you will love it.” Robin Hood will quickly gain steam from his exploits of robbing the fats cats to give back to the poor.

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The Squirrel Guard Needs a Revision

Posted on 19/11/2022 by Grumpa Joe

Let the battle begin!

Two years ago, I tore down a bird feeder which had provided endless entertainment for me and the family. I was preparing to put the house up for sale, and the ratty looking weather beaten platform feeder leaned five degrees northward. I didn’t think prospective buyers would be impressed. Since then I have changed course and am not selling the house or moving anytime soon.

I have breakfast every morning at the window watching the yard, and I realized that I miss seeing the birds. In fact, the yard was conspicuously quiet of birds and squirrels. It was time to build a new feeder. What a great way to break in my newly remodeled workshop with a simple wood working project. I didn’t have a plan, but I did have a pile of grey scrap wood that was in my way, so the feeder began to take shape.

The last feeder was never painted, I rationalized that birds would be deterred from newly painted wood and left it au-naturale. This time, I had some left over paint and decided to give the bird cafeteria a fresh new look. In a few days I had completed the job, but no longer had a post to support it. It too, had been scrapped. Again, I scrounged the wood pile next to the house to find something. At first I thought a piece of PVC pipe could do the trick, but decided it was too flexible to support the heavy cafe. Aha! I spotted a twisted two by eight about seven feet long. It had such a severe twist in it that I never used it for any other job. I pulled it out and set up on the patio to rip it right down the middle to make two pieces of equal cross section. I glued and screwed them together to make a 4 x4 post. A birdie in my brain told me that burying a wooden post into dirt causes the wood to rot, and the post will go the way of many fence posts. More scrounging uncovered a sheet of aluminum. It became a simple matter to clad the end of the post with aluminum to slow decay. Finally, I painted the post and moved on to the final step.

Time was running out, and if I delayed digging a hole for the post any longer the ground would freeze and the feeder wouldn’t open for business until late spring. Two days later I finally found my post hole digger and began digging. The first twelve inches through top soil went quickly, the next ten inches was through clay and took thirty minutes of digging to accomplish, but the post went in, and I was worn out and happy. Cafe de Bird was ready. I poured a cup of bird seed onto the floor and made a bet with my wife that it would take twenty-four hours for the birds to find it. Naturally, I lost, they were pecking at seed within two hours of opening. Side by side with the birds was a young squirrel. I delayed adding a squirrel guard until I saw a need for one. Well, the need happened almost immediately.

More scrounging through my various piles of junk around the house uncovered a section of sheet metal used to form a stove pipe. It became a simple matter to cut it down to size and install it around the post. The theory of the pipe is that the diameter is too large and slippery for a squirrel to grasp and they slide off. It works. I used one on the previous feeder. I made a bet with myself that it would be a few days before a squirrel would beat this guard. I lost again. It took ten minutes for the little rodents to run up the post under the sheet metal tube. At least I made him squirm a little while he made it through. The next step is to add another deterrent inside the pipe. Would you like to bet with me about how long it will be before the creatures learn they can make a super-squirrel leap up to the cafe?

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