Just Not Cricket

 
      More Letters From Paradise
         Just Not Cricket
When I think about England's contributions to civilization, I think about Magna Carta, Anglican Church, Shakespeare,Kipling, Churchill, and the Battle of Britain.

But I also think about where they went wrong. Warm beer, sweet tea, bad cooking, driving on the wrong side of the road, and cricket.

But we have just discovered the joys of one  other thing that the British got right. And it's the game of Polo. You don't have to spend thousands of dollars for a string of polo ponies, in order to enjoy the game. If you like horses, strong riders (men and women),combat after a ball to chase and drive into a goal, then you would enjoy the sport. If you are a golfer or play soccer, there are some similarities. The ball is larger and it hit with a mallet, to score a goal at the end of the field. For you golfers, there are also divots which are to be stomped down during halftime.

The game is so civilized, four seven minute periods called chukkers ( probably from India). At the end of each chukker horses are changed, while you have time to go the the loo, or have a spot of tea. Jolly what?

As members we enjoy premium table seating in the covered grand stand. We can bring our own food and drink, or purchase it there.  The club is some 45 minutes from the city along a beautiful ocean drive, located near the town of Waimanalo.
The field is lush and green, over nine foot ball fields in length. The people are wonderful, and the horses are beautiful. If you ever come to see us, we will be glad to take you along as our guest. What is it you drink?

         Aloha
         Grant

Heroic Actions

      More Letters From Paradise
           Heroic Action
My friend Ray said,"Here's that guy I told you about. His name is Art, and he was a pilot. I thought you two would get along."
Art is a short guy, not much over five feet tall, with a bald head fringed with white hair. And he did not wear any glasses, even though he is 89 years old.

I introduced myself, and we shook hands. He then pulled out his wallet, and showed me a photograph of a fighter plane. "You know what this plane is ?"
"Yes, that is a P-50. Did you fly one?"
"Yes." he replied.
"Where?"
"China." I knew that there were not many Americans there fighting the Japanese.
"Flying Tigers?"
"No, I was with the Army Air Corps.We flew in support of the Nationalist Chinese. Their pilots were not very good.They all came from wealthy families, and were more interested in liquor and women, instead of fighting the Japanese."

"What did you do in China?"
" We were taught to do pursuit attacks. Maintain flying at a high altitude and then attack them from the rear."

" I want to tell you about something I will never forget. I was in the middle of a dog fight with a bunch of Zero's. One guy got on my tail. I did everything you do to shake free, but he continued to stick to me. And I could see the tracer bullets from his guns, but he had not yet hit me.
As were flying way below 1,000 feet, I looked down and saw a railroad tunnel in the side of a mountain. It was a short tunnel, for I could see the open end. So here I was, a Zero on my tail blazing away with his machine guns, and if I pulled up to get away, he would surely get me. The only way seemed to try the tunnel, and fly through it. So made a sharp dive, and lining my plane up with the center of the tunnel, I flew on in. It was all over in a few seconds, and I came out the other side. My wing tips must have just missed the sides of the tunnel by inches. I climbed and looked around for the Zero, but he was gone. He probably thought that I  had crashed."

He offered me a cigar, but I told him I had quit them years ago. "Too bad, I have to go and dance." His partner was a pretty young  girl wearing a square dance skirt. I am still impressed.    

       Aloha
       Grant

Emmy Lou

      More Letters From Paradise
              Emmy Lou
Pa always said that when Emmy Lou moved to Little Rock, she became "city-fied." And as if to prove his point, he often told the following story.

Emmy Lou had made one of her infrequent trips home, and one evening she decided to visit the out house before going to bed. She had just closed the door and seated herself on one of the two holes of the seat, when suddenly up popped a large raccoon from the other hole. Emmy Lou screened "Help!" jumped up, pushed open the door, stepped outside and fell on her face, with her pantaloons around her ankles. Rising to her feet she again screamed "Help," tried to run, and again fell down. About that time Pa heard her scream and ran out onto the porch, just in time to see her try once again to run with her pantaloons around her ankles, all the while screaming help, and her eyes wide with fear. Pa just about bust a gut laughing. I guess it was pretty funny, but the story is better the way Pa tells it.

     Aloha
     Grant  

Never, Ever Bored

      More Letters From Paradise
          Never Ever Bored
"What do you do with your free time?" is a question we are often asked. Tonto keeps busy with yoga and playing bridge. In addition she plays scrabble with friends on the internet, and the Sunday cross word puzzle.

As for me I am studying Hebrew (self-taught), reading, writing, cooking, and practicing my tenor ukulele. A friend recently installed an amplifier in it. When there is a feed-back squeal, Mr. Fuzzy runs away from me.

Alright, you can probably understand the ukulele, but why study Hebrew? In the seminary I attended, it was Greek that was studied. I have been around the whole circuit of Christian beliefs, from Roman Catholic to many Protestant denominations. I found them all at fault, and I wanted to get back to the very beginning. Hence, the study of Hebrew. I find it is very difficult, but also very rewarding. And along the way I am learning a lot about Israel etc. This includes jokes. He is my favorite:

A lady tourist was visiting Jerusalem, and the battery died in her travel alarm clock.  She didn't speak Hebrew, or read it. So she wandered around looking for some place that could replace the battery . After a time, she saw in the window of a shop, clocks and watches. She entered the shop and handed her clock to the man behind the counter. He said, "Madam, I don't repair clocks, I am a rabbi, I do circumcisions." She said,  "Then why all the clocks and watches in the window?" The rabbi replied, "So what should I have put in the window?"  

     Aloha
     Grant

Progress Report on MaiTai

     More Letters From Paradise
Progress Report Mai Tai a.k.a. Mr. Fuzzy
Getting to know you (dogs) A
Smelling feet A
Under feet A
Lifting leg and marking A
Running away with Kleenex D
Sniffing everything A
Barking at door C
Fuzzing our feet and legs A
Mai Tai is doing very well at his training class. I have to hide behind a tree so he will not look at me, instead of Tonto, who is receiving instructions from the trainer. He has received praise from two of the trainers. Recent spill of mixed vegetables in the kitchen resulted in him having his fill. He continues to bring us great joy.

      Aloha
      Grant

Under the Stars

      More Letters From Paradise
          Under the Stars
Come and remember with me warm summer nights. You hear the sound of footsteps outside the window of your car. Someone is heading for the concession stand. You can smell popcorn and cigarette smoke. Some few cars were arriving late and looking for a parking place. Fat speakers hung from  short steel posts, on the top of each graded hill. You were on a date, or maybe just a car full of friends. Cars had larger trunks back then, and two people could be admitted  for free, if not caught.

Adults with children dressed in their p.j.'s were frequently seen. After the movies, Mom and Dad had only to carry them into the house and put them in their beds.

It was important to place your car just so, that the screen in the distance could be seen to the best advantage. Some people brought lawn chairs and placed them in front of their car. While others were seated on chairs in the rear of a pick up truck.

It was a quiet private world inside your car. The only sound came from the bulky speaker hanging on the window. Popcorn and sodas could be purchased from the low cement block projection building located in the center of the drive in. Or, you could bring your own. I remember once when I was a junior in high school,that I dated a girl who was a junior in college. She brought along a cooler filled with "Tom Collins." I  have forgotten her name, as I am sure she has forgotten mine.

In Michigan it didn't get really dark until about nine. But the screen was often filled with ads before the main feature. I can't remember seeing any block-busters. But then, sometimes it wasn't the movie you were interested in anyway. Most of the time it was a double feature, and the movies got out real late. Cops were often on had to direct traffic as the cars left the theater.

As summer moved into fall, some drive in theaters had heaters located beside the speakers on the post. The warm air entered car by way of the window, just as the speaker did. It worked pretty well, but you were probably snuggled up anyway in order to keep warm.  

After graduating from high school, everyone went their separate ways, and I never again went to a drive in. They are all gone now, except a few that became drive in churches. Young people today will have missed that special time at the drive in movies.  I'm sure that you remember.

     Aloha
     Grant

This Bugs Me

      More Letters From Paradise
            This Bugs Me
I have read somewhere that a writer should write about things he knows. I know about a lot of things. I know a lot about tomatoes. I used to grow and market baskets of them. I also know a lot about Volkswagens. I think I will write about the latter.

The first VW I ever saw was in 1946, a G.I. had managed (God only knows how) to bring it back from Europe. I first thought that it was ugly as hell. Squat, with a divided rear window, and a sound that was like a chainsaw. So this was Hitler's idea of a "People's Car."  Little did I ever think in  my wildest dreams, that I would one day own three of them. And I grew to love my Bugs.

My first Bug was 1961, black, and had a sliding rubber roof, sort of an almost convertible.  No bells or whistles. Just a radio, and a speedometer (laugh). No gas gauge.  A lever stuck out from the firewall which you turned down when you were running out of gas.  This was to give you another gallon of gas.  Heater?  Ha Ha.  The heat from the engine was supposed to reach the front of the car by way of a channel under the doors.  In winter, by the time you reached your destination, the car was at last warm.  But, it was great in the winter for traction, as the engine was in the rear of the car. There was at that time an ad showing a man driving his Bug to get to his snowplow.

The engine was a four  cylinder air-cooled type, and is still used in small airplanes. You always carried a spare fan belt, as everything depended on it.

There was a book around then written by a guy who was, I think, named John Muir, called "How to Keep Your VW Alive," sub-titled, "The Manual for the Complete Idiot." And it was great. mHe told you to which wrench to use, and it made it  possible for you to to adjust the valves, and make a timing light. This was much better than having to pay a garage to do the same thing. This was very important as I was a poorly paid first year teacher. The year was 1964, and I was paid $4.500, and no benefits. Also required to chaperone dances, sell tickets to football games etc. Is it any wonder I did all the work on my car?

My high school students thought it was funny to pick up my car and place it front and rear, between two trees. This was also the time that phone booths were packed with students for a world record. They did this too with Bugs. I don't remember how many could fit, and if the windows were rolled down, or not.

Cheap to operate, and dependable, I owned two others, a red one and a yellow automatic shift.  Make it two bugs I loved, but not the yellow automatic shift. Maybe I missed rowing my way around town.

At the time I owned my 1961 Bug, a friend had bought a little Renault. There were vast differences between the two cars. Mine had an air-cooled engine, and his car had a radiator. Also, the doors of his car were not even lined or covered. It looked cheap, compared to the VW. He had to buy anti-freeze, and I didn't. I think his car was probably warmer in the winter, but I never did find out.

Old memories were brought back to me recently, when I discovered a small rally of VW's here in Ala Moana Beach Park, (which translates as "Ocean Drive," in Hawaiian). I had a grand old time with these local guys, and they said that the book I mentioned above, is still around and being used.

Bug owners are friendly people. In the old days, when two Bug owners met on the highway, they would sound a friendly "beep beep" in greeting.

These new VW's are fat, wide and nothing like their parent cars. And the worse thing of all is that their engines are not air-cooled, and are up in front!

       Aloha
       Grant

A Fighting Chance

      More Letters From Paradise
       This one is for Frank
         A Fighting Chance
Frank was born and raised in Philly.  Tough town, tough neighborhood.  But he never had any trouble.  He got along well enough in St. Patrick's School.  He had a few fights, but that was pretty normal.

The trouble began when he went to junior high, and met Sister Angelica. She was one mean nun. She ruled her class with a steel ruler. She applied it to those whom she felt needed discipline. And she felt that Frank needed discipline often. For his part, Frank wanted to kill Sister Angelica. But he refrained from doing so because it would put his soul in mortal danger, and he would go straight to hell. And so he suffered in silence as did the rest of his class.

Freedom from sister Angelica came when he entered the new high school. The building principal was named Father Mark. On the opening day, Frank was herded along with all the other boys into the gym. They were told to stand against the wall, while he talked to them. They had never heard such language from the mouth of a priest before.  But as he was a priest, Frank guessed it was alright. He said, "You little bastards, I don't want to have any shit from any one of you."  He went on like this for awhile, and then he called four boys, picked at random to come to him. He told the first boy to come forward, the boy did, and Father Mark knocked him down. The boy cried, and crawled away. He next pointed to Frank, who stepped forward. Again the priest also knocked him down.  Frank then quietly rose to his knees, stood upright, and, looking the priest in the face said, "Is that the best you got?" Well, that made Frank something of a hero, and Frank never again had any trouble with Father Mark. It seemed that there was some kind of a truce.

Frank's high school years had a few bumps, but he did manage to graduate. About then he decided that he would fight in some of those amateur bouts around town. He was a light heavy weight. He not only won all his fights, but he made some money too.

It was about that time he decided he would turn pro. His first bout was with a guy called "Tiny", something or other.  He was anything but tiny.  He stood over six feet tall, and had arms that reached his knees.

For the first couple of rounds, they felt  each other out.  Frank soon realized that he couldn't get inside of the tall guy's long arms to do him any harm.  And it was in the fourth round when Frank caught a right to the jaw, and kissed the canvas for a full count.

Later when Frank was healing from his loss,  he remembered an old saying, "Work smarter, not harder."  It now seemed to make sense.  Frank gave up his gloves, and became a consultant of some company.  He never again had anyone hit him in the mouth.

        Aloha
        Grant