Dancing in the Streets

So long sad times

Go long bad times

We are rid of you at last

Howdy gay times

Cloudy gray times

You are now a thing of the past

Happy days are here again

The skies above are clear again

So let's sing a song of cheer again

Happy days are here again

Altogether shout it now

There's no one

Who can doubt it now

So let's tell the world about it now

Happy days are here again

Your cares and troubles are gone

There'll be no more from now on

From now on ...

Happy days are here again

The skies above are clear again

So, Let's sing a song of cheer again

Happy times

Happy nights

Happy days

Are here again!

[Music and Lyrics by J. Yellen and M. Ager]

Tomorrow

There is still a side of me that is afraid I will wake up tomorrow to discover I have been in a dream state for the last couple months.

Frank James Vagg

Frank Vagg, or more precisely, a photograph of Mr. Vagg, lives on a shelf in our house. Mr. Vagg was born in February 14, 1886 in Niagara County, New York. At some point in his childhood/youth he moved west, to Saco, Montana. There he met Gertrude Crutchfield. She became his wife. They continued their westward migration sometime between 1910 and 1920. Frank and Gertrude lived in Bremerton, Washington in 1920, and Vancouver, Washington in 1930. Mr. Vagg died on April 22, 1936 in Vancouver. He is buried in Park Hill Cemetery, his wife, Gertrude Vagg McCracken was buried by his side some 32 years later.

I have to wonder if there is anyone in the world who actually remembers Frank Vagg. Frank and Gertrude had no children. But is there a niece or nephew who recalls their uncle? A child who lived next door who remembers the affable neighbor? Is there anyone else who has a picture of Mr. Vagg? Or am I in possession of the only remembrance of what, I must assume, was a fine man.

After her husband died, Gertrude Vagg married Ira McCracken. She became the only grandmother I can really say I knew.

But what of Mr. Vagg? He is my mother’s second step-mother’s first husband. Does that count for anything?

I obtained his picture when my parents moved out of their house on the coast. The photo is in a great frame. I had full intentions of taking Mr. Vagg out and replacing him with a more Mac-appropriate picture. But I couldn’t do it. I looked at him. For over sixty years he had inhabited that frame. Grandma kept him all that time. Mother kept him all that time. I had no other options; I had to make a home for Mr. Vagg.

I can’t help but wonder if I am the only person left with, if not a memory, at least a thought of him. Am I all the shields Mr. Vagg from an unknown oblivion?

Mr. Vagg, I owe you. You gave me Grandma. I’m sure that is not how you wanted to be remembered, but I, and my sisters, may be your only heritage. Thank you.

And to the next generation: one of you is going to end up with Mr. Vagg. You will cherish him and know that Great-Grandma didn’t hang with jerks. He was a good man.

Hraddy!

Well, I didn’t go into Portland. Apparently many surgeons want to consult with you before they tighten the skin on your face so it looks like a taut piece of old, raw, weather-worn leather.

So I did the obelisk. But it was more time (and work) than I really expected. After three hours of building a 4’ high pedestal, it was beginning to remind me way too much of shoveling snow. And, at best, I’m not sure Richard is really going to appreciate my pièce de résistance. If I spend too much time, its popularity will drop even further.

So I went back to my original plan. The ice sculpture. But not just any ice sculpture. I had to tell the story of Hradchinsk, the Ukrainian cat born just outside of Chernobyl. Hraddy was snow white, but his body was sadly deformed. (Everytime I tell this story I get all misty eyed!) One day, while sunning himself on a pedestal, his head fell off. (I am sorry the picture is of such poor quality that you can't make our the intricate carving technique and the amazing details.)

Here’s to you, Hradchinsk!

Dear Shannon,

Thank you for your kind comment on my blog yesterday. I am proud that I inspired you to try something for the first time.

Of course, when you first mentioned jumping on skis, I had this picture of one of those monster ski-jumps they use in the Olympics. You know, the one where you get going up to speeds of 100mph while gliding down this incredibly steep slide in the sky, until it suddenly ends, about 50 feet above terra firma. And you’re expected to do something at that point, besides scream “I’m gonna die! I’m gonna die!” So personally, I’m glad you started out with moderation.

When you asked what I was going to do today, in the new-and- never-before-done category, my first thought was “How the hell should I know? I’m not sure what I’m doing right now, much less what I am going to be doing tomorrow.” I mean, I'm psychotic, not psychic. (The words sound very similar, but have strikingly different meanings.) But as I sat there in my normal comatose state, I thought , “Perhaps Shannon is right. Maybe if I put some forethought into my actions, I wouldn’t end up with lame excuses like trimming my moustache or taking a picture of myself.”
So, I started off thinking I would do a snow sculpture. The inspiration of snowzilla lives, with modifications. I was thinking a bear or a lion or something like that. But as I laid out my game plan, I realized that with my talent, I would end up with an unrecognizable glob of snow in the front yards. Unless, of course, I made my snow sculpture in the back yard, in which case I would end up with an unrecognizable glob of snow in the back yard. This had all the trappings of another lame idea. So I refined my plan. Rather than a sculpture, I’ll do an obelisk. Start off with a footing 2’x2’ square and see if I can build a tower taller than I am. Now I have a plan. Reasonable, possible and somewhat less lame.

Then I read the comment from your sweet mother, my beloved sister, Puds. She seemed to imply that, rather than creating an obelisk, I should take a quick jaunt into Portland for a haircut, dye-job, emergency facelift and tummy-tuck. She didn’t really mention it, but others have hinted a new wardrobe might not be a bad idea.

So, will it be obelisk or extreme makeover? I’ll let you know later.

Are you happier with this new look, Trudy?

Scary!

And my first for today. I have never taken a picture of myself at arms length before. Gawd, I hope I don't really look this bad.

And Raquel. Very funny. I have exercized before. Just before cleaning out the fridge in North Bend.

New Years Day in the Upper Hood River Valley

We knew we weren’t going to lose television in one catastrophic event. We knew there would be no cold-turkey day of reckoning. At 9AM this morning, we had virtually every channel of television entertainment that we had 24 hours earlier. At 10AM, we lost about a third of our channels. We have been told that the local (read: free) channels out of Portland could actually hang on until… well, until some technician gets his or her ass up to the communal satellite dish and unplugs the system. And rumor has it that said technician is in no great hurry. The other channels will quietly go into the night as someone at corporate headquarters realizes that Valley TV Co-op is in arrears.

This, of course, is a natural segue into my new year’s resolutions.

#1. I will watch less TV in 2009 than I watched in 2008.

Considering the relatively small amount of TV I watched in 2008, this would be a tough resolution, but for the circumstances, here-to-for called reality, under which Richard and now live. With the dissolution of Valley TV Co-op, this one should be a cakewalk.

#2. Every day in 2009, I will do something I have never done before.

This is a resolution I stole from someone else’s blog. I would give credit where credit due, but I have no friggin’ clue where (or from whom) I stole it. (It was their 2008 resolution – I ran into it a while ago.) Now this is truly an electrifying concept. Something new every day! Wow! But the reality of it is quite daunting. Here it is, day one, and I’m already having troubles coming up with something to do. (The first person who mentions cleaning out the refrigerator gets slapped. Besides, I have distinct memories of cleaning out the icebox before. Admittedly, it was at my apartment in North Bend in 1978, but that technicality is unimportant.)

So, while I am thinking of what to do today, that I have never done before, I will catch you up on the Pet-of-the-Quarter program. At the last moment, Richard nominated his car. We argued, rather hot and heavy, about whether a car qualified as Pet-of-the-Quarter. Richard was adamant that if his car wasn’t eligible, neither was Maxine. We cursed and shouted and ranted and raved. Ralph, realizing he could lose to a vehicle and generally annoyed at both of us, threw open the door, ran outside and peed on the car. Spike, seeing the open portal and sensing freedom, hit 90mph on his way out. Max, who is not quite so quick, only made it outside because I slipped on the kitchen floor, grabbing the cloth off the kitchen table on my way down. That’s really all you need to know about that whole unfortunate portion of the story. Anyway, I caught both the cats, as they were frozen on the front porch, mortified by the snow on the ground and the falling rain. Trixie, meanwhile, was rolling on the bed laughing. So, long/short, we have suspended the Pet-of-the-Quarter program until further notice.

Okay, I did something I have never done before. I trimmed my moustache back to the same length as my goatee/beard (basic stubble). I may never do this again, but I am… well, frankly, I look twenty years younger. Okay, I don’t. I’ll take a picture of me tomorrow.

I’m going to need some help coming up with ideas for the next 364 days.