40 year anniversary

The blizzard of ’78

Forty years ago today, January 25th, a record-setting blizzard struck Indiana. Well, it struck other areas as well, but I live in Indiana, so that’s how I think of it. And it was memorable to me for more than just the weather. I’ll get to that part in just a bit. For a little information on the actual storm you can go to http://indianapublicmedia.org/news/indiana-spared-years-blizzard-1978-77397/ where there is also a link to more pictures similar to the one above.

My memory, however, begins at work, a few hours before the storm arrived. At that time I lived three blocks from where I worked. As usual I had walked to the office. I didn’t feel up to par that morning, but I felt good enough to work. As the morning progressed I started feeling worse. So when I left for my lunch break I told my supervisor that I was taking the afternoon off as half a sick day. As I walked home I felt weaker and a bit light-headed. I got to the house where I rented the upstairs apartment, climbed the stairs and let myself in, undressed and collapsed into bed. I fell asleep and didn’t wake up until the next morning.

When I awoke I found that we had been hit by a blizzard, and that I was snowbound in my apartment. I was still weak, but that didn’t stop me from lighting my first cigarette of the day. I was sitting in my living room, drinking coffee and smoking when I realized that I only had a half a pack of cigarettes to get me through. That didn’t bode well for a person who was currently smoking two and half packs a day. Still, I didn’t worry overmuch. I figured I could go out and buy a carton of cigarettes before I was out of them completely.

I felt really weak and tired, but I bundled up and went downstairs to walk to a mom-and-pop grocery store that was a couple of blocks away. When I tried to go out however, I found a snowdrift about three feet high that was blocking me from opening the door. I was too weak to push it open. Well, that wasn’t good.

I went back inside and once again collapsed on the bed. When I awoke two or three hours later I reached for my cigarettes and counted them. I had four left. I lit one and started thinking. Maybe I had a pack or a partial pack in a jacket pocket in my closet. I hustled to the closet and started searching through my jackets. All I found was a cigar that a jubilant new father had given me quite a while previously. It was better than nothing.

I decided to smoke the cigar before finishing my last few cigarettes, so I removed the It’s a Boy! wrapper, stuck the cigar in my mouth, and gently bit into the end of it. The cigar was evidently older than I had remembered, because it crumbled in my mouth when I bit. Talk about nasty!

I finished off my remaining three cigarettes within a few hours. It was another two days before I was recovered and strong enough to get out of my apartment. When I walked to the store I found that they were completely sold out of tobacco products, not to mention things like milk and Twinkies.

To wrap up this story, tomorrow, January 26th, will be my fortieth anniversary of non-smoking. I’ll see if I can go another ten or twenty years.

***

By the way, thanks to my friend Anju who graciously let me use the picture she took as the new header photo on Classical Gasbag.

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Never too old

Politics & Recipes

It is difficult to give much thought to a topic these days and still be somewhat current. I’m the type of person who needs time. I’ve found that if I rush to take a definitive stand on an issue, it is usually haphazardly thought out and subject to being critically picked apart…often by myself.

I decided a short time ago that I would write something about the recent and overdue upheaval in our country over the issues of sexual predation and monetary inequity visited upon women. I was floundering to find a rock upon which to build my case, when it was presented to me by a pundit, Princeton professor Eddie Glaude Jr., on one of my favored political TV shows.

Roy Moore

But then I got sidetracked and have spent too much time being enraptured by the consideration of things such as political elections in other states; the mental stability…

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Memories of Marilyn Monroe

Yes, it is Marilyn

This is my new mousepad. It is a Christmas gift. I have conflicting thoughts about dragging a mouse over Marilyn’s face. I’m sure that I’ll use it eventually, but not today.

Why was I given a Marilyn Monroe mousepad? It is a convoluted story, but one that I’m ready to relate.

It began more than fifteen years ago. Back then my camera of choice was a 35mm Nikon. I took many pictures, and as a result, I often received different types of picture frames as gifts. One year,Trina gave me a carousel type of frame that held ten or twelve 4X6 pictures. I decided to put black and white pictures of family and friends in the rotating frames because it was faux pewter and I thought B&W photos looked better. So I went through my photos and chose photos of the proper size. Unfortunately, I was shy two photos to fill all the frames.

At that point I had a mischievous thought. I went online and downloaded a B&W picture of Marilyn Monroe, and one of Bridgett Bardot. I printed them and used them to fill the frames. Then I took it to my office cubicle in Indianapolis and set it on my desk. People would stop by to chat, and would occasionally spin through the photos. Nobody said anything until it had been there for a few weeks. Then my boss, who was pretty sharp, asked me about those two pictures. I told her that they were pictures of past girlfriends. She smiled and gave me a “sure they are” look and let it drop.

A few months later I brought the pictures home to our new house, and installed it in our home office. I didn’t think much about it until our granddaughter Macey, who was very young, and one of her friends came across the pictures, and asked me about them. I told hem the same story that they were old girlfriends. They were outraged that I would display pictures of old girlfriends when I was married to Grandma Cindy.

Later that day they sneaked (or snuck, take your pick) into the office and tried to steal the photos so that they could destroy them and defend Grandma Cindy’s honor.

Shortly after that they were shopping in the mall with Cindy. It must have been around Christmas because they were looking a calendars. The girls came running up to Cindy and declared in a loud voice that my girlfriend must be famous because her picture was on a calendar. Cindy tells me that all of the people around them started laughing.

Ever since those days, Marilyn Monroe has been my former girlfriend, and people give me MM themed gifts. I wonder if the girls have figured out yet that Marilyn was 19 years older than me?