News of the Day

Last night, an episode of the evening news evoked a volley of expletives from Mr. Ginley. Yet again. 

public domain image

Yes, it's good to be informed, but it can also be overwhelming to experience wave after wave of death, disease and mayhem and know there's not one stinking thing you can do about it.

Taking a different road, I decided perhaps I would get my news from the local rag. Here are some of the headlines I found:

Ohio Job Situation is Said to Improve
Complete Revision of U.S. Tax Bill

Premiers to Meet on Irish Question

Tells History of Free Love Colony

Makers of Swiss Cheese to Meet

November's First Visible Snow Works No Wonderland Magic

Cleveland-Akron Road is Dedicated

Ignatians Lose to Bellevue

Here Are Six Comedies Well Worth Looking For

More Advice for the Cold Weather Drivers Here

Some Who NEVER Should Marry

Woman All-Around Champion Wins Sock-Darners' Medal

Of course, there were the usual ads for Christmas shopping, advice on cooking Thanksgiving dinner and comic pages.

All-in-all, pretty typical news stuff. 

The date of the paper I was reading – Sunday, November 21, 1921. 

Yes, there were signs that times have changed, particularly in attitudes towards women. In the article about the woman who darned socks, the gist of it was she was rabid about juggling her achievements with caring for her family. Maybe we've moved the needle* a little bit. On the other hand, aren't mothers still feeling guilty if they don't put their families first?

What did amuse me is there were several "women's" pages of fashion and such, which appeared in the paper BEFORE the Sports section. Take that, Babe Ruth.

So, what was the biggest difference between the PD 100 years ago and today's version? The older paper was a whopping 86 pages. 

I imagine how many writers it would take to put together an 86-page newspaper. All tip-tapped on manual typewriters, the copy set by Linotype. And it makes me sad to wonder how much real news is not being covered.

You might surmise that reading the newspaper would be a better choice for Mr. Ginley's blood pressure.

Alas, no. He yells at the fish wrap, too.

*Pun intended.

Contrary to popular belief,
Christmas advertising also started
before Thanksgiving back in the day.

Passing Amusements

They're replacing the Antique Car Ride at Cedar Point. With a restaurant. Another vestige of my childhood down the crapper.

For the uninitiated, the antique cars ran along a set of metal tracks. You "steered" the car and hit the gas to go. There was no brake – the car stopped when you lifted your foot off the gas pedal. 

Granted, I haven't been to Cedar Point in years. All the same, it was nice to know that the antique cars were there, teaching a new generation of youngsters how to rear end their siblings to make their heads snap back. And yes, it was worth it, even if your folks were standing by the sidelines yelling your name and telling you to knock it off.

In all likelihood, I probably wouldn't recognize Cedar Point anymore. Amusement parks are all about the coasters. Ya, I did my share back in the day, but I liked the sky buckets better (unlike Mr. Ginley who was terrified of the height.) I also enjoyed the real steam train that ran between Frontier Land and the rest of the park. 

Anyone of a certain age will tell you the Frontier Paddlewheel Boat Ride featured little tableaus along the riverbank, with a cabin "on fire" and a "bear" chasing a guy onto the roof of his house. My friend, Axel, has some footage from that boat ride that's pretty solid. CP probably got the idea for this from our friends at Disney, who used a lot of these techniques in the early Disneyland days – before they got all jiggy with modern technology.

And now the antique cars are gone, too, as well as the Turnpike Cars, a racier version of the same genre, which featured convertible mini MG-look-alikes. (Who knew MGs could get smaller?) I was so cool behind the wheel of one of those little beauties. 

Other rides that are just a memory include the Space Spiral (a revolving glass cylinder that rose to give you a view of the whole park); Shoot the Rapids, a tame water ride that gave you a soak, which was a boon on hot summer days; and the Sky Slide, for which you'd haul a burlap sack up a LOT of stairs, then choose a lane, plant your seat on the sack and race your siblings down a hilly track to the bottom.

In my earliest Cedar Point memories, each of us kids got an equal number of tickets (much like the dinnertime "1-porkchop apiece" rationing system my mother employed). A few years later, CP came out with bracelets you had to show to ride the rides. My parents, who didn't care about the rides (except the train and overhead buckets), would spend the day watching the shows that the summer college kids performed. Then they would meet us for the picnic lunch Mom had prepared and left at the picnic site. (Hot dogs and baked beans and potato salad.)

Aside from magically appearing for lunch, my oldest siblings would scram, while my sister, Denise, got stuck with me and Paul (when he was old enough to do the rides). We usually spent some time in the Arcade, too, playing (or watching others master) pinball games and Skeeball.

Ah, well. We all move on to big people cars and SUVs and mini-vans. 

Still, I'm a little sad to know I won't be able to watch my future/potential grandchildren slam into each on the Antique Car ride.

I sure hope Memphis Kiddie Park doesn't go away anytime soon.

Getting Chippy

"Can I get one, too?" inquired Mr. Ginley.

public domain image

The backstory: He was referring to the microchip Maggie got as part of her insurance coverage. When she had her teeth removed, we were told it would be less exorbitantly expensive to pay for insurance for a year than it would be to pony up for just her dental stuff. Coverage included implanting a microchip in case she ever gets lost or runs away from home (or from Mr. Ginley). 

Anyhow...his comment started me to thinking, "Wouldn't microchips be a good thing for people to have, too?" 

Naturally, as I always do at such times, I turned to the all-knowing Google and asked. And, once again, it seems I'm woefully behind the times. 

Microchipping humans is a thing. A very controversial thing, as it turns out. While those wacky Swedes are at the forefront of the technology – using microchipping to access railway travel and to store social media information – here in Dan'l Boone's home country, we're taking it slower.

In an odd twist of fate, in 2017, it was Wisconsin (transplanted homeland for millions of Swedes) where one controversy sprung up when a vending machine company offered employees the opportunity to get chipped. Lawmakers there freaked out and started writing bills that would prohibit human chipping. 

Then up popped the conspiracy theorists, who promoted a totally wacko theory that Bill Gates was planning to use the COVID vaccine to chip people for tracking purposes. Before anyone goes running to FB to warn friends, family and neighborhood strangers (not that I think any of my regular readers would do this), be assured this bizarre theory was DEBUNKED. Apparently, the Russians got in on this spurious bandwagon, too, and tried to spread it around. (I know, I was shocked and surprised myself.)

Lawmakers here are watching closely because they have security and privacy concerns. Eleven states have already banned mandatory chipping. These fears are legitimate because, like any electronic technology, microchips are ripe for thieves and employers who want to use personal and financial information for evil. (For example, there are concerns your boss would use the chip to track how much time you spend in the potty or at the water cooler.) 

No controversy would be complete without the contribution from the lunatic fringe known as the far religious right. One God-fearing West Virginia worker refused to use an implant to clock in at work because he equated the device to the "mark of the beast," believing it could link him to the anti-Christ. Naturally, when he sued his employer, the plaintiff won, and the company was told it couldn't force Backwards Billy to get a chip.

In case you're interested, the average price for getting a microchip implanted in your hand (between thumb and forefinger) is $150. The chip is about the same size as a grain of rice. 

When I told Mr. Ginley all this, he simply said, "I don't care about having all that personal stuff on a chip. I just want to be chipped in case you try to lose me, so someone can bring me back home."

Having a chip actually seems like a good idea for Alzheimer's patients, who are prone to roaming. And for small children who tend to wander away from mom and dad. On a more unsavory note, it would help police identify dead bodies.

In any event, it looks the only chips entering Mr. Ginley's body will be of the potato or corn variety.

Besides, I suspect he thought he'd have the implant in his shoulder, like the cat, not in his hand, where he would purport to feel it.

Every. Single. Day.

Jingle Jangle Jingle

Someone posted a list of the first line of old advertising jingles on FB the other day.

I was able to sing them all. 

This is not a surprise, given that I also know the theme songs to TV shows, like Top Cat, a cartoon from my childhood. My brain plays host to many of these worthless ditties. And while on some level I think it's pretty keen that I can remember them, on the other hand, I'd rather have an aptitude for remembering, say, important dates in history. Or how to change the settings on my phone. Or the name of that guy, you know, that guy...

Ah, well, I suppose we have to be happy with the gifts we're given, even though we may not find them terribly useful.

Maybe it's because commercial jingles were part of the soundtrack of my childhood. Or maybe because they were so stinkin' catchy. I can't think of many companies that use jingles anymore. Which I think is a pity, because they really did build brand awareness. If you don't believe me, ask someone of a certain age what's on a Big Mac.*

Anyhow, I thought it would be a lark to see if my reader(s) were interested in playing along. So here's a list of the jingles I picked up from that FB post, plus a few bonus ones just for kicks.

1. My bologna has a first name
2. I don't wanna grow up

3. Gimme a break, gimme a break

4. The best part of waking up

5. Sometimes you feel like a nut

6. I'd like to teach the world to sing

7. Reach out and touch someone

8. If you dare wear short shorts

9. They're magically delicious

10. Meow, meow, meow, meow

11. Plop, plop, fizz, fizz, oh what a relief it is

12. So kiss a little longer, hold hands a little longer

13. If you think it's butter, but it's not

14. Roll on, Big O (this is a local favorite)

15. Double your pleasure, double your fun

16. You deserve a break today

17. Mmm-mmm good, mmm-mmm-good

18. Be all you can be

19. What walks down stairs, alone or in pairs

20. A little dab'll do ya

Well, I hope you had fun. Let me know if you come up with any more to share with the class!

*Two all-beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions on a sesame seed bun.

Who's That Mascot?

"Slider reminds me of Baby Huey," I remarked recently on a chat with coworkers.

public domain image of wtf is this mascot

I am probably going to roast for saying this, but the Indians' mascot, who will remain with the team after it becomes the Guardians, is not my favorite: a big pink muppet with a nose like a furry casaba melon. I'm not sure if Slider or Phillie Phanatic came first, but I suspect they are somehow related. (Phillie, by the way, was at the top of the list of most popular mascots, according to NBC Sports.) 

To be fair, I'm not a fan of mascots at all. Many of them just seem creepy to me. I think about what's going on inside that suit, some sweaty person bounding around, cannoning t-shirts at fans and whipping small children into a frenzy, and I just can't muster a lot of affection. 

I do have one question: What prompts a team to take on a live mascot?

I thought it would be interesting to assemble a list of some of the more well-known mascots. Just to clarify, I'm only talking about the ones that are in a suit, so this doesn't include the Notre Dame Leprechaun or Georgia's real-life bulldog:

• OSU's Brutus Buckeye: This is one of the weirdest mascots, to be sure, considering a buckeye is an inanimate object. 

• Akron University's Zippy: Okay, I will concede this guy is pretty cute. Maybe because he reminds me of Saturday morning cartoon characters from my childhood.

• Padres' San Diego Chicken: This was listed as the second most popular mascot by NBC Sports. This giant chicken-headed mascot debuted in 1974. No cute factor here. Maybe it was KFC fans stuffing the ballot box?

• The Mets' Mr. Met: Not many points for name originality, but he is pretty cute. Also, he gets props for likely being one of the first MLB mascots, with roots that go back to 1963.

• Kansas City Royals' Sluggerrr: Apparently, they had to add the extra "rrr's" because this critter is supposed to have some kind of Lion King vibe. It loses its jungle cred, however, by having a built-in crown in its head. The crown looks like a series of upward-facing stalagtite-like tonsils – stalagtonsils? I can't imagine what illicit substance was present at the creation of this guy.

• Montreal Canadiens' Youppi!: Montreal's version of Slider, his name means "Yippee!" in French. Youppi! is a carryover from the Expos. 

So, why have a mascot? It's a way to bring kids to the ballpark, I suppose. That and the nachos. As an added bonus, kids can clamor over one another trying to get one of the free cheapo t-shirts the mascot shoots out of a cannon. The big kids can join in on this, too. Plus they have beer and selfies, so there's something for everyone at a professional sporting event. 

Besides, it's too loud to talk about the game with the person next to you. 

So what else are you going to do at a ballgame? 

I Laughed, I Cried

Several months ago, my D.C. brother-in-law (at our request) started sending us "Daily Dose" emails. Each one features a YouTube video of a comedian. Most are stand-up routines, although there are a few sketches and SNL snippets.

Used by permission:
JeanneRobertson.com

The humorist who quickly became one of our favorites was Jeanne Robertson, who  told stories about her life and her family. In particular, she talked about her husband, Jerry, whom she referred to as "Left Brain" and her son, Bailey (aka "Beaver").

We found out recently that Ms. Robertson passed away in August at the age of 77, two months after her husband (he was 83). 

Admittedly, I feel a bit cheated that we didn't know about Jeanne Robertson sooner. On the plus side, her comedy lives on, thanks to YouTube. (The internet isn't all bad.)

Although I learned a lot about Ms. Robertson from her videos, I thought I'd do my thing on the google and get the whole scoop.

In addition to being a humorist, Jeanne Flinn Swanner Robertson accomplished much during her time here:

    • Miss America North Carolina 1963 (also Miss Congeniality)

    • Basketball Player & Graduate, Auburn University 1967

    • Physical Education Teacher

    • Professional Speaker

    • Author of Three Books

    • Producer of Four Videos

    • Benefactor of Elan University (along with Left Brain)

As to her personal life, from which she garnered much of her humorous material, she married her first husband in 1965 with whom she had her son, Bailey Bowline. The couple divorced in the early 1970s, and she married Jerry Robertson in 1974. Ms. Robertson has two grandchildren.

In researching this article, I found more nuggets of her appearances, including a very recent podcast and an interview she did with her son, during which they told a hilarious story about chicken parts he locked in the trunk of his car.

I'm sad that Jeanne Robertson won't be sharing any new stories. Her gentle wit has been a refreshing change from some of the raunchier, mean-spirited comedians that have come down the pike. 

Thanks, YouTube, for keeping her spirit alive.

Everyone Knows It's Wendy

When Mr. Ginley's California brother, Brian, paid us a visit last week, I decided to take a day off so Mr. and I could show him one of our MetroParks.

But, which one would it be? 

Then I remembered my friend, George, had been to Wendy Park and remarked that many improvements had been made – including a new pedestrian bridge, expanded all-purpose trails and additional parking.

Our destination became clear. And so it was the three of us trooped off, with me driving. Wendy Park isn't hard to find these days. Well-marked signs guide you off the Shoreway and along twisty roads and a traffic circle ("no, we're not going to Edgewater") and on to Wendy Park. It's tucked away, off to the east a bit, along the lakefront. 

Given that we'd seen the refurbished former Coast Guard station the last time (Brian checked it out later that day), we instead chose to try out the new trails. Soon, we were hoofing it over the pedestrian bridge and admiring the view of the Flats, Downtown Cleveland and environs.  

We watched the activity near the salt mine for a bit and chuckled, remembering how Mr. Ginley told our son he'd have to go work in the salt mines, that we'd buy him a metal lunch box and a thermos, but the 4-year-old wasn't having any of it. (He opted to go to Pre-K instead.) 

We clip-clopped our way to the other side of the bridge and walked a bit further until we came to the next bridge, an ancient behemoth that lifts so boats can sail underneath to continue their journey to Whiskey Island on the Cuyahoga River. 

Walking single-file across that bridge then back again, we had nearly made it when we heard the signal that the bridge was going to begin lift-off. We scurried the rest of the way and watched from the sidelines as its deck rose ever so slowly to let a large salt barge pass. Ginormous chains pulled up the deck of the bridge, clickety-clack until the deck was all the the way up. Then a tugboat at the rear of the freighter powered it past us and docked near the piles of salt we'd seen earlier.

As we headed back along the path, we noticed a second lift bridge, its deck supporting train tracks. Our luck continued, as a choo-choo pulled up a half-mile or so away and waited for the deck of that bridge to descend, at which point the train chugged its way across. 

The boys were in hog heaven, and admittedly, I enjoyed the show, too.

It helped that the weather was picture-perfect. 

Sometimes I get busy and lose sight of all the cool stuff we have in our berg. 

Tuesday with Wendy gave me the opportunity to recall, relax and enjoy.