No Gene For The Killer Instinct

Once upon a time, we lived in an old wooden house in Missouri---my mother, my father and I---and several mice in the attic. Periodically, Mother would set wooden spring-traps, baited with hunks of cheese, in order to catch the uninvited guests.

The mice were usually agile enough to grab the cheese before the traps sprung into action catching their tails. So sitting downstairs, we would hear the overhead, “thump, thump, thump” of mice dragging their traps behind them.

Dad’s job was to go to the attic and dispose of the critters. Reluctantly, he’d go upstairs and the thumping would stop. Then, he’d come downstairs, step outside the house and release the mice, so they could scamper off suffering no worse than hurt egos and very sore tails.

My father couldn’t kill anything. He taught me to cover roaches and beetles with a drinking glass, slide a piece of paper under the glass, and then throw the bugs outside. My aunt told me that when he was a boy, he’d pull flies off of sticky fly paper, so they could fly away to carry on with whatever nasty business flies achieve.

When I was five years old, he saw me stepping on ants, and gently chided, “Even ants have a purpose. You are disrupting the balance of nature.” I never forgot this lesson. Consequently, when I recently opened my garage door and discovered a big rattlesnake sunning itself on my driveway, I thought of Dad. No way could I run over it and mess up my driveway. It didn’t want to move, so I stamped my feet thinking that the vibration would make it slither away. Sure enough, it disappeared into the ivy lining my driveway.

I called the fire department snake removal division and the dispatcher told me to keep my distance from the snake, which I did. Forty-five minutes later a big red fire truck and baby fire man arrived. I don’t think they send the A-team for snake removal. He said, “Did you keep an eye on it?” “No,” I replied, “Dispatch told me to stay away, but the last time I saw it, it slithered into the ivy.” “Can’t get it in there,” was his reply. “I’ll come back when you see it out in the open.”

So, next time the snake decides to show himself, I will cajole, “Hello, Snake!” Just stay there for forty-five minutes until the fireman returns.” Dad would be proud of me!

Esther Blumenfeld (“The early bird may get the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese.” Steven Wright)

Gremlins In My Furnace

Diamonds are a girl’s best friend because they appreciate in value. Unfortunately, even though they cost the same, not only do furnaces and air conditioners not appreciate in value, they seem to age faster than grandma’s fruitcake. So, in October, not looking forward to another air conditioning breakdown in the summer, I decided to bite the bullet and replace both existing units with top-of-the-line energy saving machines.

Included in my purchase, was a Wi-Fi programmable touch screen thermostat, with Internet connections to both my computer and the computer of the installing company. This amazing contraption does everything except bake bread. Everything was installed, everyone left and all was well with the world--- until in the middle of the night--- my super-duper thermostat lit up the hallway with an alert, “Watch guard Flame failure on Ignite!”

I woke up and thought, “Oh, My God, I’m going to die!” I frantically pushed some functions on my touch screen, and then I called the emergency number of the installing company. A sleepy technician patiently assured me that I was in no danger. “Thanks,” I said. “Now tell me how to unlock my thermostat.” He said, “Hold you finger on ‘Lock,’ and then it will automatically unlock.” Now, I was a wiz on my programmable thermostat. The flame obviously was working, because the house was warm.

Unfortunately, this was only the beginning of the “Failure On Ignite” messages, and after several service calls, it became clear that there was an hour delay between ignite and heat, but not consistently. And, by the time the service folks arrived at my house, the gremlin in my furnace had started the heat cycle.  So, the owner of the installing company called the engineering guru at the prestigious furnace company for advice. The engineer suggested that something might be amiss with the regulator on my gas line.

Southwest Gas sent an old man to my house, who had obviously been inhaling gas fumes for many years. After knocking down all of the brooms, mops, rakes and buckets in my storage room, and examining my gas lines, he looked at me and said, “There is nothing wrong with your gas.” “How about my furnace?” I asked. “I don’t know about furnaces, I just know about gas,” he replied. So much technology. So little talent.

Now it was time to install a new control panel in the furnace. The brave technician came on a Saturday to install the panel. It didn’t work, so he put the old panel back into the furnace. He called me that evening and told me that his boss had informed him that after installing the new panel; he needed to reprogram the Wi-Fi thermostat. He returned on Sunday morning at 8 a.m. with the new panel, determined to fix the problem. So far, so good!

My friend, Barbara told me that it took her heating company two years to find the problem with her new furnace. It kept blowing cold air, and they couldn’t find the reason. A roofer solved the problem. While standing on her roof, his hair kept blowing in the wind---on a day when there was no wind. He climbed off the roof, looked at her thermostat, and informed her that a fan had been programmed to run constantly. Problem solved!

I can’t wait to try my new air conditioner in the summer.

Esther Blumenfeld (Getting messages from my thermostat, that I never wanted in the first place, is giving me a new sense of purpose.) 

How Big Was That Fish Anyway?

I’ve been a trusting person my whole life. Anyway, I usually start out that way. But, if someone lies to me, I tend to remember it.

When I was a little girl, my best friend, Leigh Ann bit me. (When I grew up I chose less violent friends.) I ran into the house crying and told my Uncle Harry what had happened. He said, “I’m going to kill her!” That was quite comforting, until I realized that Leigh Ann would live on to bite her way through life, and that Uncle Harry had lied to me.

Lies have a life of their own, and now with modern technology, lies can spread faster than diaper rash on a baby’s bottom. When telling the truth, you don’t even have to remember what you said, but if you tell a lie, you’d better get it straight if you intend to repeat it.

One day, as I was loading groceries into the trunk of my car, a well-dressed man, carrying a gas can, approached me. He told me that he had just arrived from Philadelphia. He was on his way for a job interview, but had run out of gas. He had left his wallet with his wife, who was waiting in the car with their two children. All he needed was money, so he could get some gas. I was dubious, but gave him some money for the good story.

Two weeks later, he approached me again with the same sob story---except this time he was from Detroit. I said, “Two weeks ago you told me you were from Philadelphia.” “Well,” he said, “I guess that two weeks ago I was from Philadelphia.”

When telling a half-truth, a person should be sure to remember which half to tell. Lies make suckers out of us all. Napoleon Bonaparte said, “History is a set of lies agreed upon.” Several juicy lies have entertained us for generations.

The story goes that the Greeks presented the Trojans with a peace offering in the shape of a wooden horse. When the Trojans pulled the gift into their fortified city, they discovered it was filled with vengeful Greeks. True or not, it’s a good story and perhaps an elaborate lie.

Anna Anderson claimed to be the missing Anastasia of the royal Romanov family, until DNA ruined that hoax. And who, in the 1950’s, wasn’t enthralled with the discovery of the skull of the Piltdown man---the supposed link in evolution---until it was proven that the skull was only 600 years old, and that the attached jawbone came from an orangutan.

Sometimes it takes a long time, but the truth usually prevails. Those who are habitual liars don’t go unpunished. George Bernard Shaw explained the fate of liars very well. He said, “The liars punishment is not in the least that he is not believed, but that he cannot believe anyone else.”

Esther Blumenfeld (“The income tax has made liars out of more people than golf”) Will Rogers

Sally Forth

Daredevils are people who are bold and reckless, such as; Evel Kenievel, with his ramp to ramp motorcycle jumps; or, Felix Baumgartner, the record holder of the highest skydives and fastest free falls; or, Alain Robert, the “French Spiderman,” famous for climbing sky scrapers.

Most of us don’t consider ourselves daredevils, but along the way, we have had a few adventures. Without adventure, something in us goes dormant.

One of my favorite adventurers is my 90-year-old friend, Jack. He lives in a senior residence with his dear wife, Irene. She won’t tell people how old she is, but obviously she likes older men. Jack enjoys riding the city buses, and everyday he has a new experience and, “meets the most interesting people.”

Last week, Jack met a young woman, on the bus, who told him, “This is the best day of my life!” “What makes it so good?” asked Jack. She said, “I just got out of prison.” “What were you in for?” asked Jack. “Armed robbery,” she replied. Not missing a beat, Jack asked, “What made you do that?” She shook her head and replied, “That bum of a husband. He made me do it!”

Just goes to show that on a trip, it doesn’t matter how far you go to have an adventure along the way. Tom Cahill said, “A journey is measured in friends rather than miles.” And, Irene said, “I don’t care how many new friends he makes, as long as he doesn’t bring them home!”

I’ve had a lot of adventures in my life, some of them better than others. I swam with the dolphins in Roatan, Honduras. That is not so unusual. However, I got involved with a mama dolphin and her calf, and was warned to avoid Mama’s tail. Remembering that dolphins are among the cutest animals that could still destroy me, I looked into her gaping mouth, gave her a quick pat and swam away.

In Tahiti, I tried snorkeling off the back platform of a small ship. The snorkeling worked out better than hoisting myself back onto the platform, since the waves had swelled and the platform was now several feet higher, and moving from side to side. After a few feeble attempts, and several mouthfuls of water, two burly sailors hoisted me up and tossed me onto the deck like a flipping mackerel.

My most dangerous adventure involved playing pedestrian dodge ball while crossing a busy street in Saigon. Motorcycles sped around me going in all directions, except up my legs, and one of the drivers yelled in English, “Walk slowly! Don’t stop, or you may die!” It wasn’t raining, but I raised my umbrella in self defense.

Albert Einstein said, “The one who follows the crowd will usually get no further than the crowd. The one who walks alone, is likely to find himself in places no one has ever been.” You betcha’, Al.”

Robert Trussell, of the Kansas City Star, interviewed me when my play, Under Midwestern Stars appeared at the Kansas City Repertory Theatre in 2007. At the end of the interview, he asked me, “How can someone your age write a play?” I thought of saying, “You would never ask a man that question,” but instead I said, “I’m not too old to dream. I think it’s a mistake to think that only young people can do things and have adventures.”

 Life is an adventure, not an obstacle---just ask Jack!

Esther Blumenfeld (“Life is a blank canvas, and you need to throw all the paint on it you can.”) Danny Kaye 

Twinkies Are Not A Vegetable

I don’t remember how we got on the subject of vegetables, but the other day my friend, Barbara said, “I like all vegetables except rutabaga.” “Is rutabaga a vegetable?” I asked. “Not in my house, it isn’t.” she replied. Of course, Barbara is from Wisconsin, and everyone knows that the favorite vegetable in Wisconsin is cheese.

Recently, scientists at Cornell and Brigham Young universities have discovered that school children will eat their school lunch veggies if you pay them to do so. They found that providing a reward increases vegetable eating by 80%. For a long time “incentives” have been used with children to improve reading habits or manage behavior, but is it really okay to bribe a kid to munch on a carrot?  What ever happened to, “It’s in front of you. Eat it!”

Sometimes the definition of “vegetable” is confusing. For instance, a tomato is a fruit that is called, “vegetable.” In the mid-1980s, after Congress cut one-billion-dollars from the Child Nutrition Program, the USDA came up with the brilliant idea of labeling Ketchup as a vegetable. Of course, they thought no one would remember that tomatoes are a fruit. Only a kid who puts green beans up his nose to entertain his friends would want tomato concentrate on his Fruit Loops.

Onions make me cry. I have never cried peeling an apple---unless I cut myself---then I cry. My father-in-law told my mother-in-law (who was a gourmet cook) that he didn’t want her to cook any dish that required onions. I asked her, “How can you make all those delicious dinners without using onions?” “Easy!” she replied. “I tell him that it’s celery.”

The only vegetable my mother liked was iceberg lettuce. She would take a cleaver, whack the head into 4 wedges, and smother the chunks with Thousand Island dressing. Then she would command, “Eat!” That cleaver was my “incentive.”

President George H.W. Bush raised a ruckus with farmers and the produce industry when he said, “I do not like broccoli, and I haven’t liked it since I was a little kid and my mother made me eat it. And, now that I’m President of the United States, I’m not going to eat any more broccoli!”

Often people will not like vegetables because of how they are prepared. On the East Coast, people enjoy their veggies blanched (barely cooked). They call them, “Tender-crisp.” Southerners will bare a shotgun, send those vegetables right back to the kitchen, and yell, “ Cook my greens until I can suck ‘em through my teeth!”

I have several friends who are vegetarians. They have taught me that lamb chops are not vegetables. Since I like these people, I try to accommodate their dietary preferences and have prepared many vegetarian dishes. While looking for vegetarian recipes, I came across a good suggestion by Jim Davis who recommended that, “Vegetables are a must on a diet. I suggest carrot cake, zucchini bread and pumpkin pie.”

Also, since herbs in the strictest sense are vegetables (plant kingdom), I have discovered that chamomile tea (a plant of the daisy family) tastes, “Oh, so good” when prepared with a dollop of honey and a shot of whiskey (a vegetable made out of grain).  Works for me!

Esther Blumenfeld (“Do vegetarians eat animal crackers?”) Anonymous