I like to write junk…

Years ago I had no idea what the initials AARP stood for. I’d heard the term countless times from my parents. They were always talking about AARP discounts. My friend Jeff told me what AARP means,

“Aging Adults Requiring Pills.”

That sounded plausible. I wasn’t sure if his answer was right or wrong. I knew it had something to do with old people!

Now that I’m considered ancient by the grandkids, I’m well aware of the AARP definition. Jeff was correct. Aging adults requiring pills fits things to a capital T. The pill business is alive and well in Seniorville!

I can’t watch a television show these days without being introduced to some new pill. They have heart pills, kidney pills, migraine pills, memory pills, back pills, constipation pills, with the list going on and on. Never mind that some advertisements mention death as a possible side effect. That’s a small anomaly in comparison to the benefits these medicines offer.

I’ve got my own regiment of pills to swallow. The majority of them are tablets Dr. Joleen prescribed. My spouse is not a licensed physician or anything. I call her doc for grins. I’m on a strict regimen of Dr. Joleen’s vitamins designed to keep me healthy.

Saw Palmetto Extract is supposed to keep my prostate happy. I wash down a vitamin C tablet each day to ward off colds, zinc to keep me in sync, and something called D-3 for I assume my knees. I grudgingly take the stuff to keep her satisfied. Sometimes I feel like these supplement pills are solely designed, to separate health-seekers from their hard earned cash.

I can’t say vitamins have done me any good. At this point I don’t know for sure? I’ve heard a few people claim after using them their lives changed drastically. I take those folks’ testimonials with a grain of salt. Generally speaking a month or so later they come down with the same ills as before.

Bad backs and knees are the most popular ailments amongst the Geritol crowd. If you don’t know what Geritol is then you’re definitely not of the baby boomer generation. Geritol is a tonic from the ‘50’s supposedly fixing tired or iron poor blood. Sounds like the perfect elixir for several people I worked with. Looking up the ingredients I was amazed.

There are 15 items making up Geritol. The 3 sticking out most are sugar, sodium hydroxide, and alcohol. I’m not a drug expert but that sounds like a speedball mix minus the cocaine and heroin. I remember sniffing Geritol as a child. A friend’s parents had some in their medicine cabinet. The strong aroma still permeates my senses.

I suppose 12% alcohol and sugar is what jump started users. Add a little caffeine (coffee) to this mixture and off to work they’d go. In one vintage commercial an office worker keeps a bottle in her desk drawer. How convenient. It’s a good thing the woman wasn’t forced to take a breathalyzer test.

We get a newsletter called “AARP – The Magazine”. It’s complimentary for all AARP members. Both of us being card carrying participants of AARP has its advantages, or at least that’s what the magazine says. The $8.00 a year membership fee covers the cost of this worthless publication.

Walking up to a young cashier at a local restaurant I placed my AARP card in front of her. Instantly I saw confusion on the gal’s face. She politely informed me,

“I’m sorry sir but we only take Visa and Master Card.”

Wanting to tell her what AARP stood for and the excellent benefits it offered I stopped short. I’d be wasting good breath.

“Do you give senior discounts?”, I inquired.

Smiling at me she replied,

“Yes sir we do. I’ve already taken it off your bill.”

Evidently because of highly visible creases and lines I automatically qualified. Thinking about this incident for several weeks a thought popped into my head,

“Why doesn’t someone make anti-aging pills?

I immediately looked on the internet. Lo and behold there’s a product called TELOSC that does just that. For a mere $196.71 you can purchase a 3 month supply. We’re talking $800.00 a year. Chump change if it really works.

This pill claims to make you smart, strong, and sexy at 100. With an IQ of at least 74 I have the smart part. The other 2 items would be nice in lifting heavy grandchildren, and modeling hip-clothing like jumper suits and overalls with suspenders. Sadly the TELOSC sales office didn’t offer AARP discounts. What’s with that? The advertisement did say they gladly accept Visa and Master Card.

“I bet they do!”

If you’re wondering what TELOSC stands for the answer is simple,

“Take Every Living Old Senior’s Cash.“

Jeff didn’t tell me that. I made it up myself!

Thankfully I never stole a car or motorcycle.  I’ve never had reason to. That bit of info needed to be shared before telling the rest of this story.

Kids growing up in the 1960’s should remember “V-RROOM MOTOR”.  A V-RROOM MOTOR is a plastic replica of a motorcycle engine made by Mattel Toy Corporation.  The motor fit between the frames of bicycles.  Children lucky enough to have one were big stuff back then.

 The device had a battery-powered motor inside, emitting a roaring sound equivalent to that of a Harley-Davidson. At least that’s what Mattel claimed!  It required a special key to operate.  A couple of older kids at school had bikes with V-RROOM MOTOR’s.  They parked them in a bicycle rack outside my classroom window.

 One day at lunch a group of us boys were standing around listening to the machines.  It was a guy thing.  I asked to fire one up and was told,

“No!”

I’ve always had a problem with the no word.

During our VRROOM demonstration I’d taken notice that the special key didn’t look so special.  A lightbulb immediately went on. The next day I brought a pair of mom’s nail clippers to school.  I suppose a student these days would be arrested for such.

 Before lunch ended, I walked over and tried inserting the swivel file from the nail clippers into bike ignition.  It fit perfectly.  Turning switch to ‘ON’ position, the motor roared to life.  In panic I yanked the clippers out and dropped them.

The V-RROOM continued to roar as I hustled back to my classroom.  Thankfully the boy owning the bicycle was in a different section of the building.  For the next hour I heard the motor running and not missing a beat. Unfortunately before school let out, the batteries took a dive.

The following day my teacher held up mom’s clippers.  She wanted to know if anyone lost them.  I was smart enough to know what the woman was up to.  Thankfully no one raised their hand. They would’ve been nabbed had they done so.

Often times while in my garage I stop to ponder,

“Had there been Duracell lithium batteries back then, would that VRROOM MOTOR have made it to the last bell?”

If you lived in Anchorage, Alaska during the late 1960’s through early 1970’s more than likely you remember War Wagon. Actually there were 3 War Wagon’s in Alaska during that period.

War Wagon #1 was known throughout the United States and world. It appeared in a 1967 western movie by the same name starring John Wayne and Kirk Douglas. I saw this film at the Fireweed Theatre with my brother and some friends. In the movie, War Wagon was armor-plated and pulled by 6 powerful horses.

The wagon itself looked like a first-design Army tank. It was used to haul bullion bars from a local gold mine to the bank. A Gatling gun was mounted inside to dissuade potential robbers. John Wayne played the role of Taw Jackson. Taw was a good guy. Kirk Douglas appeared as “Lomax”, a bad hombre at the start before reversing his role. Taw Jackson and Lomax intended to ambush War Wagon. The gold on board came from Jackson’s land and he was determined to get it. Ed Ames performed the catchy theme song, which every so often, when no one’s around, I attempt to sing.

War Wagon #2 most likely derived its name from the film. I’m only assuming it did because I never asked anyone. It was a 1973 Chevrolet Vega racecar built by Tony Prockish and Steve Deptula. I watched this Chevy run the ¼ mile at Polar Raceway in Palmer several times. The Prockish & Deptula War Wagon was powered by a modified 454 Chevrolet Big Block engine. I’d estimate there were 650 ponies under the hood, perhaps more. The late Tony Prockish was an instructor of mine at Anchorage Community College. Steve Deptula started a successful auto parts store in Anchorage called High Performance Auto Supply.

War Wagon #3 is the one I’d like to talk about. I was associated with it for an exciting yet brief 3-year period of time. The car didn’t have a Gatling gun or 650 horses, but did possess unique charisma unmatched by any. It also holds several eclectic stories containing absolutely zero historical significance. There was no other War Wagon in Alaska like it and never will be!

My War Wagon was a 1954 Chevrolet station wagon. I shouldn’t say mine because it was jointly owned by me, Jeff Thimsen, and Ken Lucia. We purchased the classic machine in 1974 from a couple of wayward hippies. They’d driven to Alaska with plans on living in the vehicle while traveling around the state. We pooled our money and bought it for $225.00 after their adventure ended.

Seems they decided to fly home to California rather than once again drive the Al-Can Highway. Alaska at that time was filled to the gills with young Californians during summer months. Many of them worked the fish canneries while a good majority came to escape work, and peddle their waresif you know what I mean.

This young couple had spent most of their time and money in Homer and Seward while visiting the 49^th state. I’m not sure what they were up to each day, but the vehicle did possess a strange aroma. It’s been 45 years and I still remember the smell. Without going into scientific detail let’s say it was much like incense and Irish Spring soap blended together.

The owners were nice and personable people. He was a bit on the strange side where looks were concerned. There was something about those glassy eyes and slow speech. One thing I remember most was the gal being pretty. Although I didn’t do so at the time I wanted to ask, “What do you see in him?”

Jeff, Ken, and I bought the station wagon for weekend cruising and camping. In the beginning the car was minus a suitable name. After owning it for several days Jeff came up with War Wagon. It looked as though it’d been through WWIII. I liked Jeff’s association to a battle. Knowing Steve Deptula and Tony Prockish well enough, I knew they’d find our using their car name amusing and not insulting. Ken went along with War Wagon because it sounded cool.

A can of black Krylon paint was all Jeff needed to customize. The War Wagon lettering was not sprayed to perfection having sags and runs. Being ‘free canned’ as Ken called it gave the vehicle extra character. I added 454 on the hood for a personal touch. My birthdate is April 1954. After signage was complete we couldn’t take the Chevy anywhere without getting thumbs up, or suspicious stares from local police.

War Wagon often times did not start so a set of jumper cables was included in the purchase. If an incline or hill was available to park it on that eliminated having to jump the battery. We’d merely let her roll with ignition on then let out the clutch in second gear. It’d pop to life every time.

One night we cruised to Bob’s Big Boy for burgers. The restaurant was located on Northern Lights and C Street. Parking around back on a flat spot, Jeff, Ken, and I came out finding the battery dead. Generally there was always someone around we could bum a jump. That evening there wasn’t. In a desperate attempt to get her back on the road, Jeff scoped out a Ford or Mercury sitting directly in front of us. Finding the car’s hood had an outside latch he popped it.

Just as my sidekick was removing cables from the donor car, and with War Wagon’s engine now running, a man, his wife, plus 2 kids walked up. They were the vehicle owners. While simultaneously shutting both hoods Jeff didn’t know what to say other than, “Thank you!”

With him calmly sliding in the front passenger seat, I slowly backed up and drove away as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Ken might’ve been in the back softly whistling but I can’t say for sure. To this day I still wonder if there’s a law in Alaska for theft of a jump.

War Wagon was a cop magnet. We were constantly pulled over. The officers generally wanted to see driver’s licenses, current registration, including proof of insurance. I’m sure they were checking for other things as well. We always came away squeaky clean.

One afternoon an Alaska State Trooper stopped me at a rest stop near Girdwood. I was asked about insurance. “Yes sir”, I politely replied, “State Farm.” Pushing things a bit too far, Ken from the back seat bellowed out, “Full coverage!” The trooper glancing at War Wagon’s smashed passenger door started to chuckle. He gave us a warning about mud obscuring the rear license plate before leaving.

On another occasion our friend Kevin Park decided to tag along after he’d gotten out of school. Kevin attended East Anchorage High like we had. He was 2 years younger than us and at that point a senior. His parents were doctors. The family lived in a somewhat upscale neighborhood on Wesleyan Drive. Picking him up in front of their house raised a few eyebrows.

Kevin enjoyed the attention our car got as much as we did. No matter who pulled up alongside they’d always look to see what was inside? On that afternoon Kevin exchanged glares with some old guy on Northern Lights Boulevard. For reasons unknown the man gave him the finger. Having a near empty soda can in hand and being a hockey player, Kevin instinctively tossed it out the window into the fellow’s lap. Sticky liquid went everywhere.

Deciding to hightail it we took off with the man in hot pursuit. Our Chevy would only go so fast.  I believe the chase never exceeded 45 mph. Jeff nervously kept looking in the rearview mirror not knowing what to expect. The irate gentleman eventually called off his pursuit, turning around somewhere near Northern Lights & Muldoon Road. It was a good thing because we were nearly out of fuel.

That was Kevin’s last ride in War Wagon. He went off to medical school soon afterwards, eventually becoming an emergency room physician at Providence Hospital. Sadly, Dr. Kevin Park was killed in an aircraft accident in 1994.

On several instances I was forced to use the car for transportation. Working at Proctor’s Grocery in Eagle River as a stocker, management instructed me to park my machine around back out of sight. They feared it might drive customers away.

My girlfriend at the time was on a 30-day trip to visit relatives in Kansas. Joleen Freeman didn’t know about my vehicle investment. When she flew home and waited for me outside a baggage claim area I pulled up in War Wagon. She rode home cowered down so no one would see her. A bit upset at me, Joleen cooled down when I mentioned it was her younger sister June putting me up to such. We were married a few years later and celebrated our 40th this past September.

Merely being seen with the car was more than enough to be stereotyped a stoner. After arriving in the town of Hope one afternoon to go hiking, Jeff and I were eating sandwiches with doors wide open. Some guy sporting long hair came walking up asking, “Hey man, do you have any weed?” I was primed for an answer. “No man, we have no need!” The fellow lingered for what seemed like several minutes trying to comprehend whether that meant yes or no. He eventually got the message before quietly leaving.

The demise of War Wagon was somewhat blunt and unexpected. During an attempt to slow down, Jeff downshifted at too high a speed for the umpteenth time. The clutch plate disintegrated. We initially towed it to Ken’s house but his folks said, “No!”

Jeff knew his parents wouldn’t be happy so we never approached them.

The carcass sat in a field across from my place for several months. Finding an impound notice stuck on the windshield I informed Jeff and Ken we needed to move it. Stripping what few salvageable parts there were, we towed it by rope to Alaska Towing & Wrecking late one night leaving it outside their gate. Both license plates including serial number tag had been removed for obvious reason. The only identifiable part of the car pointing our direction was War Wagon painted on each side.

I like to believe someone came along rescuing War Wagon, eventually restoring it to prime operating condition. Perhaps a country western band then purchased it, traveling the U.S. with musical instruments safely stored in back. Jeff on the other hand thinks it was crushed and the metal shipped to Japan. Reincarnated, it came back to America in the form of a Subaru Brat. Jeff’s analogy is probably right.

Neil Young wrote a song about one of his former vehicles titled, “Long May You Run”. Neil sang it at the 2010 Vancouver Olympics. Each time I hear the tune I think back to War Wagon and all the good times we had. Lyrics from Neil Young’s song perfectly sum things up,

“We’ve been through

Some things together

With trunks of memories

Still to come

We found things to do

In Stormy weather

Long may you run!”

One area of interest for me is collecting and researching old postcards. A fancy word for such is ‘ephemera’. I’m not as interested in the photos on front as I am the messages on back. Reading what people had to say one-hundred-years ago can be delightfully entertaining plus highly educational.

Recently I came across an unusual postcard. It’s made of wood and paper. This is the first of its kind I’ve owned. A penny stamp is still attached. The postmark reads October 1907.

The picture on front features a comical looking fellow. He’s an older gentleman sporting a straw hat, goatee, and purse. The card reads: JUST ARRIVED IN ______. The purchaser of this card had to fill in the blank. In this case it reads “ELGIN”.

My newly acquired 4 inch x 6 inch postcard was mailed to Miss Myrtle Holverson – Cedar Vale, Kansas. Something written upside down, underneath ‘Miss Myrtle’ immediately caught my eye. It appeared as if the sender was trying to disguise their message. Four lightly-penned words read, “Many here have heard.”

Wanting to know what they heard had my head spinning. The possibilities were endless. I decided to do some serious sleuthing.

Elgin is or was a city in Kansas. The place is now considered a ghost town. Cedar Vale is only 22-miles northwest of Elgin. Why would someone mail a postcard such a short distance? My first thought being it had to be Myrtle Holverson’s suitor, or as they’re now called, boyfriend.

I equated this to my sending letters across town to my girlfriend before we married. It seems the purchaser of this specially designed card was doing the same. He was letting his sweetheart know he was thinking of her.

I had no problem finding Miss Myrtle ‘Mary’ Holverson. She was born in Cedar Vale, Kansas on May 26, 1887. Her parents were Ole and Frances Holverson. Myrtle had 2 brothers; Herman and Frank. Herman was tragically killed at an early age in a farming accident.

Myrtle Holverson married Orval Younkman on December 31, 1907. This was 2-months after the postmark date. The sender of the card had to be Orval Younkman. His subtle upside-down-message most likely referenced their soon to be wedding.

Orval and Myrtle lived on Oakwood Farm near Cedar Vale until their deaths. Both are buried in the Blackwell Cemetery in Blackwell, Oklahoma. The couple had 2 children; Dolores and Bernadine.

I researched several lines of Holverson and Younkman kin. A good many remained in the Sunflower State.  I was hoping to find a descendant of Orval or Myrtle to pass this card on to. For this to have survived one-hundred and seventeen years tells me the previous owners truly cherished it. How the memento came to be on eBay is a sad mystery. Family heirlooms aren’t meant for such.

Without going into excruciating detail I was able to connect all the genealogical dots. I’m fairly positive I’ve found the gg-niece of Myrtle. This special card will be sent to her from my home in Arizona. Hopefully it’ll be placed once again in a special drawer or box. A most unique artifact of Holverson family history will hopefully be around for years to come!

• Update:I was successful in returning this family heirloom to the proper Holverson survivors. They were ecstatic to receive it in the mail. A local Kansas newspaper ran a featured story on it.

It’s a simple penny postcard.  I came across the memento on ebay while searching for relics of early Alaska.  It was one small item lurking amongst millions on the site.

The postcard was advertised for sale by a simple scanned picture.  Registered seller in Ypsilanti, Michigan evidently did not delve into card’s history or provenance.  A hand-tinted color photo on front was most intriguing.  It shows the J. Heubner drugstore in Douglas, Alaska with 3 employees standing at counter. In period attire they seem poised; ready to help.  Hard to read handwriting says:

“Juneau, Alaska – July 28, 1909 11 P.M. – Having a perfectly gorgeous time, and getting a lot-better. Have seen three glaciers, a big mine, four streams tumbling over a thousand feet – and been to two dances today / work. We own Alaska. Have never seen scenery till now to covet.  Yours, Fred Baker”

Two interesting things to me were the card’s sender Fred Baker, and his designated recipient including address, “Dr. R.L. Doig – Sefton Building – San Diego, Cal.”  The sender’s name Fred Baker rang a bell.  Initially I just couldn’t place why?  R.L. Doig drew a big blank.  I did some serious digging.

Records show R.L. stands for Robert Leeper.  Robert Leeper Doig was born March 16, 1855 in New Athens, Ohio.  His dad James Rolla Doig was a college professor including ordained Presbyterian minister.  James was a founding father of Monmouth College in Illinois.  Robert Doig attended Monmouth, transferring to Cedar Mills, Iowa for enhanced medical studies. By 1883 he was practicing in cow town Ellsworth, Kansas.

On June 12, 1883 Robert married Adaline Frances Jack from Cedar Mills.  Their first child Arthur Haldane Doig was born in Ellsworth December 11, 1884.  Daughter Nellie Elizabeth came along 3 1/2 years later on June 13, 1888.  The couple’s son Lt. Colonel Arthur Haldane Doig went on to a distinguished career in the Coast Guard Artillery.  He’s buried with honors in Arlington National Cemetery.

The family for 10 years called Ellsworth home. Unforeseen circumstances brought them further west to San Diego.  Brother John Doig played a big part in that move.

John Rankin Doig was born 11 years earlier than Robert.  He enlisted in 1862 to serve in the Civil War.  John was 16 at the time.  He mustered out in Selma, Alabama – October 1865 enduring some 3 years of combat.  John attended Washington College afterwards. He went on to study medicine at Iowa University and The College of Physicians and Surgeons in Chicago.

His first practice was in Williamsburg, Iowa.  Larger Des Moines was his next stop.  Records show he then worked in Newton, Kansas for short order before moving to Ellsworth in 1879.  He remained there 1879 – 1886.

In 1886 John and his wife Nell moved to San Diego because of bad health. The good doctor developed serious asthma problems while living amongst wind ravaged prairie.   1894 is the year Robert and his family joined them in California.  The 2 brothers worked out of the same office on 6^th Avenue. Both became prominent San Diego physicians.

Dr. Frederick “Fred” Baker and his wife Dr. Charlotte Johnson-Baker also had offices on 6^th.  They were located in the Sefton Building owned by local banking magnate Joseph W. Sefton Jr.

Fred and Charlotte are pillars of early San Diego history. Fred Baker was born in Norwalk, Ohio on January 29, 1854.  Charlotte Johnson was born March 30, 1855 in Newburyport, Massachusetts.  The 2 married in 1882 moving to San Diego in 1888.  They became the areas initial husband-and-wife medical team.

Dr. Charlotte Johnson-Baker was San Diego’s first female doctor.  Their combined list of medical and civic accomplishments is miles long.  San Diego was blessed to have them as residents.  Both worked out of St. Joseph’s Hospital (now Scripp’s Mercy Hospital).

Dr. Harry Wegeforth along with Dr. Fred Baker are key players in development of Scripps Institution of Oceanography. Fred Baker was a naturalist and amateur malacologist.  He traveled throughout the world collecting mollusks which include snails, slugs, clams, octopus and squid.  His remarkable collection was donated to San Diego Natural History Museum, the Scripps Institution of Oceanography, including Smithsonian Institutions.

Perhaps Dr. Fred Baker is best known for being co-founder of the San Diego Zoo.  Both Fred and Charlotte Baker were friends with publishing moguls Edward Willis Scripps and his half-sister Ellen Browning Scripps.  The Scripps’ money played a major part in making the zoo a success.

Other notable mentions for Dr. Fred Baker are his serving on the San Diego City Council.  He was president of San Diego City Schools. Mr. Baker was on board of trustees for State Normal College (now San Diego State University).  Baker Elementary School in San Diego is named for him.

Dr. Charlotte Johnson-Baker has her own outstanding merits. I’ll mention but a few:  Charlotte was first woman president of the San Diego County Medical Society. She led and was president of the Equal Suffrage Association. Co-founder of the San Diego Y.W.C.A. Mrs. Baker was president of Point Loma Assembly (woman’s club).

She was legislative chairman for League of Social Workers.  Charlotte was inducted into the San Diego Women’s Hall of Fame in 2009.  Her diaries and papers are kept in the San Diego History Center.  Both Dr. Fred Baker and Dr. Charlotte Johnson-Baker are buried in San Diego County. 

I believe it’s safe to say sometimes there’s more lurking in old picture postcards than what meets the eye.  Fred Baker proved such by mailing a simple penny postcard from Alaska to friend and colleague Dr. J.L. Doig in California almost 107 years ago.

I’m sure neither man had a clue back then, that a simple piece of correspondence sent from Alaska would still be making the rounds!

My late father-in-law Herman Freeman was an educator.  With a master’s degree in education he went on to become principal of numerous Kansas schools.  Before that he was a teacher for many years.  Herman gave up the teaching field when discipline was struck from the classroom.

One thing he talked about often was being schooled in a one-room school house.  My mother mentioned the same.  I remember seeing photos of her standing in front of an old wooden building somewhere near Vernon, Alabama.

Back in the day, reading, writing, and arithmetic were the main subjects.  They still are.  Getting a good grasp on those 3 academics is essential.  I wasn’t old enough to attend a one-room school.  My first grade class in Selma, Alabama was a fairly modern brick building containing several grades.  I suppose the thing I enjoyed most from 1^st grade up, besides recess, was reading.

In 5^th grade it got to the point I couldn’t put a book down.  I started falling asleep at my desk because I’d stay up late reading.  Eventually my teacher Mrs. Drake arranged a conference with my folks to see what was going on.  When they discovered “The Hardy Boys” mystery books were getting my undivided attention, a moratorium of sorts was placed on my reading them.

Only through help of a friend was I able to keep this addiction fed.  My pal checked the mystery books out then secretly slipped them to me. Using a flashlight at night I’d crawl under bed covers to get my fix. You could say I was hooked on the books!

I learned more street smarts from Frank and Joe Hardy than I ever did in class.  In seventh grade, a Daniel Boone biography gave me the recipe for making gunpowder. In this book, it showed that a slave named Monk Estill was the person responsible for teaching Daniel Boone how to make the explosive.

Unbeknownst to Monk, his simple instructions taught me the same 200 years later.  Interestingly enough I’ve never forgotten the man’s name. Monk Estill later became a Baptist minister in Shelbyville, Kentucky.

Living close to a drug store I was able to purchase sulfur and saltpeter to begin my experiment.  The granulated charcoal ingredient was obtained by taking Kingsford briquettes and pulverizing them into a fine dust.  It took some doing to get the mixture just right.

I filled a coffee can with my homemade gunpowder and was about to torch it off one chilly September evening. A friend’s mom quickly ran out of her house to stop me.  Had Mrs. Malone not done so I might not be telling this story. My can of gunpowder was confiscated by my mom and and disposed of.

In junior high I found our school library had a whole shelf of “Hot Rod” magazines.  They’d evidently been donated by a student’s parent.  Back then we had mandatory reading so each trip to the library found me grabbing a couple of issues.  The librarian came over to see what I found so interesting.  Seeing it was car magazines she advised me to read other material.  Evidently the woman saw no merit in the publication because all automotive magazines were pulled.

It’s funny but I’ve been a “Hot Rod” subscriber ever since thanks to her censorship.  I still love to read yet there’s one area of study I’ve failed miserably.  The book I need to spend more time with does not show me how to make gunpowder or modify car engines. It is chocked full of interesting stories and useful information.

I believe Monk Estill found this book to be his daily bread.  Just like the one-room school was a pillar in early day education, the Bible in my mind is the foremost manual on how to change life for the better.  I’ll be first to admit I need to pick mine up more often!

I believe in statistics.  Tell me about a great place to invest money and I’ll immediately ask to see numbers.  Same goes for medical advice.

My wife read the other day that green M&M’s are regarded as an aphrodisiac. The only thing M&M’s does for me is spike my blood sugar.

If someone informs me about a miracle health cure, I’ll insist on viewing the documented results first.  There are far too many people believing what they read on the internet.

I know how easy it is for a writer to put information on a hook in anticipation of catching a fish.  When I say fish I refer to the sucker variety. Usually those setting bait have a book they want to sell. I’ve had friends and relatives tell me about get rich quick schemes found on their computers.  They’ve also touted amazing health remedies available in a variety of expensive pills and liquids sold on the web.  When I hear such the old saying,

“If it sounds too good to be true it probably is” comes to mind.

My wife and I were in IHOP the other day for breakfast. We were seated behind 2 young gals.  One had a newborn baby.  The young mom was telling her friend she wasn’t going to immunize her child.  That grabbed my attention because I have friends and family that think along the same flawed lines.

This wiser than thou young woman mentioned the human body having an ability to heal itself of every disease and injury.  I’d wager the gal scraped that malarkey off the internet.  The body does have ability to self-heal but not everything.

The obviously clueless woman went on to discuss preservatives and toxins in foods.  We couldn’t hear the whole conservation yet I took in enough to form a logical conclusion. The gal was nuts.

This mother basically informed her friend that people were healthier before the days of immunization. That was toxic and misleading information.  I’m sure she’s one of those mislead souls proclaiming immunizations result in autism; a myth if there ever was one.

If this mom had merely checked life expectancy over the past 150 years she’d see gross error in her thinking.  In the year 1860 folks were eating grass fed beef with no added hormones.  Fruits and vegetables had no pesticides.  Babies were not immunized back then.  The average life expectancy in 1860 according to government and insurance statistics was 42.

Since food was nutritionally better in the good ole days how come folks died so young?  Jump to 2012 and the average life expectancy for men and women (combined) surges to 78.  Could it be children getting shots to protect against deadly diseases is beneficial to longer life?  The answer is undoubtedly yes.

This young lady with unproven philosophy was putting her child at risk by not immunizing. She’s not the only clueless person doing so. There are thousands.

Logical advice for any young mother is to heed the advice of their pediatrician instead of an internet expert.  In the long run the child will benefit from such. It makes me wonder if this gal even had a doctor for her baby?

I keep waiting for someone to compose a combination book on health and finance. The title would be, “Live Forever & Get Rich Quick!”

Should that manuscript ever come out, I bet the company selling itwould have an automated voice machine in their office.  Each time a gullible customer called with a credit card number, speakers would blast forth,

“Fish on!”

The older I get the easier I take it on my body.  Common sense dictates such. A veteran mechanic gave me advice years ago regarding things mechanical.

“Don’t push ‘Ole Betsy’ to the limit or she’ll blow!”

Just like the dangers of over revving a vintage car or truck engine, parts can fly apart in an aged human body as well.

For several years I rode bikes with an Alaskan friend.  Craig was a few years older but could waste me on endurance rides or climbing hills. We both entered a bicycle race up Arctic Valley Road to a popular Anchorage ski slope.

I took things easy maintaining a pace that didn’t kill me.  My friend burned to the top passing much younger riders along the way.  He took first in his age group and probably some others as well.  I was middle of the pack.  Craig was elated in his accomplishment and rightly so.  I was happy just to finish the race.

I see advertisements all the time about older people claiming to be as competitive in sports as they were at 21.  Generally these guys or gals are hawking some type of vitamin or health supplement.  I often wonder about such products.

When these athletes finally do explode from over exertion, we’ll never read or hear about it.  That type news doesn’t sell endurance elixirs. The company will find someone else to tout their product.

These performance boosters remind me of automotive gimmickry where oil additives are concerned. Certain companies manufacture fluids that claim to lengthen the life of an older engine along with increasing power. Suckers buy the stuff every day.

My goal is to live as long as I can and hopefully stay upright in doing so.  Most everyone tries for the same. While doing so I’d like to motor along without use of wheelchair or walker. I have no problem with canes.  To me canes are stately; very useful in fending off undesirables like thugs and Amway salesmen.

Because so many unknowns can unexpectedly happen during the golden years, my desire to continue walking without aid is much more difficult than it sounds.  I see seniors on a daily basis resorting to ‘help’ devices.  When I say help devices I mean wheelchairs, walkers, and canes. Most of these folks had a simple slip or fall before having to use such.

If I continue to be blessed with good health, one thing you’ll never find me doing is entering athletic competition of any kind. I’ll let others vie for ribbons and trophies. At this point in life I have nothing to prove to anyone including myself.

I’ll be more than content in my golden years, if I’m able to stroll along a country road; an old man simply walking.

Years ago on television there was a show called “Sea Hunt”. My brother and I watched it every week.  The series starred Lloyd Bridges as Mike Nelson; ex-Navy diver.  Mike was called upon to dive and rescue people in all kinds of dangerous predicaments. I could relate to him via name only.

In one episode Mike came to the aid of a pilot trapped underwater in his plane.  Thankfully the airman was saved before limited oxygen ran out.  In another show Mike’s skills were used to recover a nuclear warhead.  As a kid I was intrigued by the cool watch that Mike Nelson wore.  I wanted one.

About 2 years ago opportunity waltzed my direction.  I was watching QVC and they were premiering the Invicta line of watches.  QVC for those not in the know is a home shopping network.

A gorgeous lady on the show demonstrated a diver’s watch capable of surviving 300 meter depths.  That’s a whopping 1000 feet!  She mentioned Arnold Schwarzenegger having one exactly like it.

With their easy payment plan I could have my own by simply dialing a toll free number.  Because they had accidentally manufactured too many of the time pieces, QVC was discounting them for $99.00. Shipping was free.  Talk about a sweet deal. The lady said they were originally over a thousand bucks!

Visualizing that beautiful instrument on my wrist in all its manly glory, I quickly grabbed the phone and dialed.  It took a mere 7 days for the package to arrive via Fed-Ex.  The watch was fully protected in layers of Styrofoam. It was carefully embedded in its own custom-fit-plastic-box.  I couldn’t wait to strap it on.

The time piece felt a bit hefty on my left arm. It weighs close to a quarter pound.  That’s no problem for bigger guys.  I suppose small boned fellows might have a hard time supporting the beast.  When my wife saw it she laughed out loud. She wanted to how I could justify wearing such a gaudy monstrosity? If Mike Nelson was in the house he’d praise me instead of ridicule.

The first problem I found with the device, was that it wouldn’t allow my fingers to go all the way in my left jean pocket. I couldn’t retrieve coins or car keys. Not a huge problem. I shifted all such items to the right side.

My watch became a conversation piece especially in restaurants.  One server noticed it and asked if I dived.  What a silly question. Why would a fellow wear a diver’s watch if he didn’t?  Sheepishly I told her,

“No”.

I should’ve remarked that I don’t dive but could.  That answer would satisfy the most inquisitive of minds.

Because my Invicta became a bit cumbersome for everyday use, I only take it out on special occasion.  Last week I wore it to a local burger joint.  The watch looked enormous in comparison to a junior cheeseburger.

Not many people will purposely dive to 100 feet let alone 1000.  It’s reassuring to know should I ever fall out of a boat and sink, my Invicta diver’s watch will survive. I doubt if a Timex or Casio would do the same.

What better justification for owning an Invicta could a person ask for? Would someone please tell that to my wife!

Everyone has pet peeves.  I have a couple:

Have you ever noticed how some household products are misleading in name or advertised abilities?  My wife bought a spray can of “Scrubbing Bubbles”.  I decided to use it to clean a sink.  Spraying the foam on white porcelain finish, I watched as “Scrubbing Bubbles” did absolutely nothing.  It wasn’t until adding ‘elbow grease’ that the sink came clean.  I was the one doing the scrubbing.  The bubbles went along for a ride.

Another misrepresented product is “Handi Wipes”.  They’re handy all right as long as you can find them.  Last time I needed “Handi Wipes” they were nowhere in sight.  My wife had them hidden behind a box of soap.  I used “Brawny” paper towels instead and that’s only because my wife buys that brand.

“Joy” dish soap is another pet peeve.  I don’t know about you, but I find absolutely no joy in washing dishes.  Whoever named it “Joy” must’ve been on acid.

“Brawny” paper towels take the cake for erroneous labeling.  The manufacturer says to tear a sheet off and place it alongside a competing brand in an absorbency test.  I did exactly that using “Bounty”.  Both towels ended up soaked to the gills. What else would you expect?

Tell me there’s brawny in a paper towel and I’ll say you need your head examined.  The only thing brawny about “Brawny” is the picture of that rugged looking man on the wrapper.  I suppose that’s why so many women buy them. On the gossip side of things, I hear the “Brawny” model gets a pedicure each month. What does that tell you about his brawniness?

There’s absolutely nothing charming about “Charmin” toilet paper.

Did you know “Mrs. Butterworth’s” original brand syrup has zero butter inside?  There’s no real maple either.  What’s in a bottle of “Mrs. Butterworth’s” is a mystery.  Hopefully they at least put real high-fructose corn syrup in the mixture.

“Bac ‘n bits” contains zero bacon nor any kind of meat. What is that stuff? Maybe I don’t want to know!

“Jiffy” muffin mix takes at least 30 minutes from start to finish.  If that’s jiffy, then I’m ‘Johnny on the Spot’ with a walker.

I’ve never been a smoker.  I see nothing cool about “Kool” brand cigarettes.  Calling something “Kool” that smolders seems ludicrous.  That’s akin to saying ice is hot.  Git my drift?

“Quaker Instant Oatmeal” has dubious meaning.  Did Quaker actually look up the meaning of instant?  Someone has to make the stuff.

“Cheerios” is one of my least favorite cereal brands.  If my wife says we’re having “Cheerios” for breakfast, a Cheery O attitude will not be found.  Horses might love the stuff, but man does not live on oats alone!

“Sleepytime Tea”.  Tried it a couple of times and found I still couldn’t sleep.  The drink’s supposedly caffeine free.  Maybe someone at the factory is adding caffeine as a prank?  I’ve often wondered about decaffeinated coffee.  What’s to stop someone from switching grinds?

Products taking the grand prize are those labeled organic. Organic is nothing more than a grocery store buzz word. My wife and her sister are big fans on purchasing these items. How easy is it to plop an organic label on a can or box. It’s ink for crying out loud. Hand me a Magic Marker and I’ll mark it for you.

“Rice-a-Roni” advertises as being the San Francisco treat. Say what?  I could never understand why.  What kind of sane person eats “Rice-a-Roni” as a treat?  I love “Rice Krispy” treats but “Rice-a-Roni” is not in the same category.

I’ve raved to friends over the years about “Moon Pies”.  I have no complaints regarding this product.  The name alone says it all. That’s reason enough to buy a box!