GATHER WHAT YE MAY

People collect all kinds of things. Elizabeth Taylor collected diamonds and husbands. One definition of collections is, “The action of collecting someone or something.” She did both.

Another definition is, “An amount of material accumulated in one location.” Graham Barker began his naval fluff collection in 1984. I’m not sure where he mined his collection, but by now he should have enough belly button lint to fill a mattress.

Bill collectors don’t collect people named, “Bill,” nor do they collect bills. They should be called money collectors, but I guess then people would confuse them with the Internal Revenue Service---a profession that sounds as if they only go after people who swallow their money.

Some collections such as stamp, coin, paintings and baseball cards can become quite valuable. Who knew that a first edition, Superman Comic Book, would bring big bucks---certainly not my husband’s mother---who threw it away. And, who would have guessed that Wolfgang Laib’s collection of pollen (from Hazelnut) piled up in the 18 x 21 ft, atrium of the Museum of Modern Art in New York City, would be featured as a work of art? The entry fee does not include a dose of
Antihistamine.

Sucrologists collect sugar packets. Inadvertently, they often team up with ant collectors. Some people enjoy collecting seashells. Novices forget that sometimes the shell they have collected is someone’s home. Nothing smells as pungent as the demise of a slimy critter that has crawled out of a conch shell in a collector’s suitcase. However, it’s a good trick to pull on airport security.

Collecting New Year’s resolutions is not a good idea, because there’s no place to keep them. My father collected books. When he was 85-years-old, he and my mother moved into a Senior Residence. I asked him, “Dad, is it difficult for you to move again?” He replied, “No, not as long as I have my books. My books are my portable homeland.” When he died, we donated his collection to various libraries.

However, it was more difficult to dispose of Uncle Bill’s collection of malformed teeth. Uncle Bill was an oral surgeon and was very proud of his tooth collection. Over the years, he had amassed hundreds of extracted teeth, mounted them on black velvet, and displayed them in glass cases in one room of his beautiful home in a suburb of Chicago. When he died, none of his kids wanted to sink their teeth into that collection, so they donated it to the “Collection Terminator.”
Hundreds of years from now, some archeologist, digging around, will ask, “Why did all of those weird toothed people end up at the city dump?”

Esther Blumenfeld (My British friend will “collect” me at noon)

OPEN UP

I have trouble opening things. I’m sure it is genetic. My father had butter fingers, and whenever he tried to unscrew, untie, or unwrap anything he’d eventually resort to some creative under-the-breath muttering.

Recently, I hosted a party and tried to uncork a bottle of champagne. Finally, I turned the task over to a strong man, who immediately popped that cork. A cautionary note: Do not loosen a cork for anyone else.  It makes you look really stupid.

Manufacturers have developed all kinds of creative ways to challenge whomever is dumb enough to buy their products. “Push down and twist clockwise” is almost as much fun as, “Squeeze hard and twist counter-clockwise.”  I usually push down when I’m supposed to squeeze hard before pulling the hammer out of my tool chest.

There are several creative ways to open a jar:

A blunt edged knife should release air from under the lid. Accompanied by a box of Band-Aids, this can work.

Hot water run over the lid might do the trick---with a little Unguentine on the side.

Banging the lid of a jar of kosher pickles on the garage floor might work, but be sure to have a broom, a pail of water and a mop nearby.

You can try putting on rubber gloves when wrestling with a stubborn jar top. It will give new meaning to “twist and shout!”

Then there are the plastic packages that contain, batteries, dental floss, toothbrushes, razors and all kinds of products that you need, but can’t get to by simply opening the package. When a scissor fails me I sometimes resort to a razor bladed knife and a box of already opened Band-aids.

Receiving a package in the mail can be a delightful surprise until you try to open it. Usually I have been struggling for ten minutes before I see the instructions, “Open other side.” Then there are the cardboard boxes that contain foodstuffs. They instruct to “Pull up the sides and tear here.” When my eyes fill with water, I understand the “tearing” part.

Plastic screw caps on soft drink bottles cause much consternation. If you can’t get the cap to move, you might not want to ask a stranger to open your bottle, because who knows what he’s been doing with those hands.

So here are my final thoughts on the subject:

If you are stranded on a desert island, do not send a note in a bottle out to sea, because whoever finds it, won’t be able to remove the cork.

If you visit a scientist, and on his desk there’s a brain preserved in a jar---leave the jar closed.

If you have a hankering for hard liquor, take a drive to the Smoky Tennessee Mountains, because a jar of Moonshine opens itself.

Alice in Wonderland found an already opened bottle with a sign that read, “Drink Me.” It was not marked “Poison” so she drank the ingredients. Unfortunately, it made her really short. So, beware of already opened bottles. Eat cake. It will make you taller.

Esther Blumenfeld (I’ve never met a man who can’t open a beer bottle.)

HIDE THE SWORD WHEN YOU SAY, SUMIMASEN

A friend called and told me, “I feel guilty.” “What do you feel guilty about?” I asked. “I feel guilty, because when I receive all of those stickers from charities, I keep them and don’t send donations.”  

“First of all,” I replied, “you don’t have to pay for something you didn’t order.” But, if you really feel guilty, just put the stickers into the enclosed envelopes and send them back to where they came from.” “I don’t feel that guilty!” she said.

A sheet of stickers sent by a charity costs nine-cents, but research has shown that by sending these “gifts,” donations go way up.

The Japanese word for “Thank you” is “Sumimasen” which means, “This will not end.” When I open my mailbox, I know they are right. It’s all about reciprocity. In its purest sense, reciprocity means, “rewarding a kind action,” but since many people interpret it as an obligation to return a favor, others have found ways to take advantage of the guilt.

A social scientist sent out 600 Holiday Greeting cards to a randomly selected group of strangers. He received 200 responses. Some of the cards even included those printed Holiday letters telling him all about families he had never met. I guess these folks figured, “What the heck, it’s better to send a card, than feel guilty about someone we don’t remember.”

Another experiment showed that if waiters include mints on the check tray, their tips increase, and if a waiter adds extra mints---along with a smile to let that customer know he is special---the tip is even bigger.

Reciprocity becomes uncomfortable when instead of rewarding a kind action; it is converted into an obligation to return a favor. Like Yogi Berra said, “Always go to other people’s funerals, otherwise they won’t go to yours.” And of course, reciprocity can take an ugly twist when returning a “favor” turns into tit for tat.
Reciprocity in friendship is certainly different from mutual dislike---just ask the descendents of the Hatfield’s and McCoy’s.

The author, Alice Thomas Ellis was skeptical of mutual exchange altogether. She said, “There is no reciprocity. Men love women, women love children, children love hamsters.”

When my son, Josh was in first grade, a little boy came to our house to play. When he left, one of Josh’s toys was missing. “What do you suppose happened to the toy?” I asked Josh, who nonchalantly replied, “Johnny put it into his pocket.” I called Johnny’s mother, told her the story, and said, “I’m sure Johnny forgot he has it.” “Impossible,” was her reply. “I’ll be right over,” I said. After a short search, we found Josh’s toy. I said to Johnny, “If you want to keep Josh’s toy, you need to give him one of yours.” “I don’t want to” was Johnny’s response---so much for reciprocity. His mother took the toy and told me they were moving to Alabama. I went home and counted the silverware.

Esther Blumenfeld (scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours---OW!)

WINKING WITH BOTH EYES IS A BLINK

When I was a kid, we used to play, “The Staring Game.” It was cheap entertainment. All that’s involved is sitting eyeball to eyeball with a friend, start staring at each other, and the first one to blink loses the game. The only way I could ever win was to cross my eyes, and make the other kid laugh.

Scientists have discovered that the average person blinks 28,800 times a day. I can’t imagine being asked, “What’s your son’s job?” and answering, “He’s a blink counter.” But, it’s a job, and I guess someone’s got to do it.

New research from Osaka University in Japan discovered that blinking might do more than just lubricate the eyes. In fact, it may serve to “momentarily rest the brain, giving the brain a break to wander and go offline.” According to this research, blinking and the brain at rest are related.

I know that life can change in the blink of an eye, but I also know that all the blinks in the world won’t make a boring conversationalist disappear. I’ve tried it. I blink and they still keep on talking.

One valuable bit of information that the blink counters have discovered is that there is a correlation between lying and blinking. Because deception requires intense concentration, liars blink less while telling a fib, and then speed up afterwards. So, if someone says, “Nice to see you,” and then blinks really fast, you know he doesn’t mean it---or has an eyelash in both eyes.

Winking is kind of like blinking only it’s done with one eye. I once knew a girl who had one blue eye and one brown eye. She was an expert winker, but it was quite disconcerting because one time she’d wink blue and the next time she’d wink brown.

I can wink well with my left eye, but have to scrunch my face to wink with the right one. Maybe it has to do with the part of the brain I use for winking, or maybe it’s because I’m just a klutz.

It’s a proven fact that all mothers have eyes in back of their heads. Those eyes are good at the staring game, but I can promise you that they will never blink.

Esther Blumenfeld (Nudge, nudge, wink, wink. Know what I mean? Know what I mean?  (Monty Python)

OH, CANADA--PART TWO

DAY 6
The next day, we were taken on a tour to transfer from Lake Louise to Banff which is located in the  heart of Banff National Park.  We arrived late in the day at the world famous 125-year-old Fairmont Banff Springs Hotel which is called Alberta Canada’s,“Castle of the Rockies.
The next day, like Rapunzel, I decided to stay and rest in the “Castle” while Josh and Barbara explored the City.

DAY 7
Then, on the final day in Banff, we took a six-hour sightseeing transfer tour from Banff to Calgary—our final destination. After exploring many places of interest and spending time in Banff for shopping and lunch, our Motor Coach Driver regaled us  with stories.  He told us that, as a child, he always preferred looking out of a window at school rather than doing the class work, whereupon his Mother said, “You’ll never make a living looking out of the window,” which, of course, turned out to be his beloved job.

After a stroll around Bow Falls and then Surprise Corner, the driver took us to the Banff Gondola where we took an 8-minute Gondola ride to the top of Sulphur Mountain for a literally (7,500 feet-high) breath-taking view.  At the top we had a 360-degree view of the townsite and the surrounding mountains.

When we returned to the Motor Coach the driver told us another story about the time he dropped off 40 tourists for a scenic stop.  Suddenly, in his rear-view mirror, he noticed they all had gone the wrong direction. When he got off the Coach, he saw all of his passengers taking pictures while surrounding a very large Grizzly Bear. The Bear moved forward on his haunches and then retreated. He did it again. That is the movement Grizzly Bears make before they attack. The driver ran to his passengers and yelled, “Get on the bus!” which they did as he tried to distract the Bear.  Finally, he ran to the bus, got on and slammed the door shut. That bus still has a paw indentation and Grizzly Bear scratch marks.  Made it just in time!

DAY 8
We arrived at the  Calgary Fairmont Palliser Hotel late in the day—just in time to run into a huge wedding reception in the lobby. In the midst of the bedlam, I was able to get my airline boarding pass for the next morning, and then we ran out of the hotel before our eardrums burst. We found a lovely out-of-door restaurant and then returned to the hotel in time for the wedding.  However, we did not attend since Josh had not packed  his tuxedo.

DAY 9
Early the next morning, I went to the airport and encountered the most stringent Security Check. The Security Lady felt my feet and looked at the bottom of my sneakers, while the Security Guy was playing with my silk nightgown.  OH, CANADA!  All went well, and I got back to Tucson with my nightgown and sneakers intact.  However, I am still doing laundry.

Esther Blumenfeld