Now that Tiger Woods has made a public and scripted apology for his behavior, it is reasonable to assume that he will get his life back in order and return to the links. This smart fellow…he is a Stanford grad, you know, has been counseled by people who, for a fee, assist in the handling of scandal once it has been exposed to the media. One might think a scandal of Wood’s magnitude would be unmanageable, but then we thought that about Bill Clinton. In the televised apology, I noticed that Tiger did not smile. This was undoubtedly part of the script. I can imagine what his adviser cautioned: “Whatever you do, kid, don’t smile. Don’t lead in with a joke. This is serious business and your audience wants to see you serious and contrite”. However, if Bill was ever serious on camera after the intern incident, it did not last long. Today he is a senior statesman, always seen smiling (unless visiting an earthquake site) and seems to have weathered his personal storm.

Mr. Woods is young, a great golfer, and has a moneyed future ahead. When he gets back on the circuit, he will eventually offer a cautious smile. When he makes a fantastic shot, he will doff his cap and the audience will cheer. To err is human, to forgive, divine. I shall leave the subject with my homemade doggerel and apologies to William Blake despite his spelling:

“Tyger! Tyger! Burning bright. In the driveway in dark of night,

You crashed your car in search of love…what the hell were you thinking of?

In what distant deeps or courses caused you not to hold your horses?

On what wings dared you to aspire by shedding your colorful golf attire?”

*  * * * * *

Despite belt tightening budgets, the City Building and Planning Departments are making a commendable effort to work with owners of downtown buildings requiring renovation. This will translate into less vacancy signs and more business activity. Hats off to those keeping a steady course through these troubled fiscal waters!

* * * * *

The DN Police Logs get us through the day…especially if we, or our close relatives, are not within. For example, a man told police that women are being kidnapped around Red Bluff and smuggled through the Chinese tunnel system. Police found no evidence of the man’s claims. They could have referred the fellow to me. I could have assured him that no women are currently being kidnapped via the tunnels because there ARE NO TUNNELS, YOU IDIOT! That would have brought him to his senses.

* * * * *

If you are programmed to worship, you might consider praying to the sun as did the ancient Egyptians.  All energy necessary to sustain life comes from the sun in the form of photons. We know of it as photosynthesis, which is the production of organic substances, especially sugars, from carbon dioxide and water by the action of light on the chlorophyll in green plant cells. I gleaned this from Richard Dawkins marvelous book regarding the origin of the species. After many chapters of careful explanation of Darwin’s theory, he concludes in a melancholy mood brought on by recent poll results indicating 44% of people in the U.S. and Great Britain, who allegedly thrive on the advancement of science, still believe that God created man, in his present form, within the last 10,000 years…and that all life on earth has existed in its present form since the beginning of time!

Knowing better, it is comforting to acknowledge that humans thrive on getting their vitamin D fix from the sun. With our present, albeit prolonged, rainy season, a sunny day is most welcome. One may rhapsodize, as did Gershwin, of a Foggy Day in London Town, but I will take a sunny one right here in river city any time.

* * * * *

There must be a lot of former Boy Scouts in our readership. Many submitted the Oath in answer to last week’s quiz. S. Orner was first in. “ON MY HONOR I WILL DO MY BEST TO DO MY DUTY TO GOD AND MY COUNTRY AND TO OBEY THE SCOUT LAW; TO HELP OTHER PEOPLE AT ALL TIMES; TO KEEP MYSELF PHYCSICALLY STRONG, MENTALLY AWAKE, AND MORALLY STRAIGHT”. Thus, the term “straight” came to be the antithesis of “gay” or so sources say.

This week’s quiz: What is the Scout Law, Scout Motto and Scout Slogan? For extra points, who rode a horse named Scout?

* * * * * *

A guy tied his racing bike to the back of a friend’s Corvette to see if he could control his bike up to 50 miles per hour. His friend sped off and was approaching that limit when a Mustang pulled alongside. The friend in the Corvette forgot about the guy on the bike and raced the Mustang up to 100 miles per hour until a cop finally pulled him over. The cop radioed his headquarters saying, “You won’t believe this, but two guys were racing down the highway at 100 miles an hour…and a guy on a bike was ringing his bell and waving his arms trying to pass them!”

(To respond to this website: rminchandmurray@hotmail)

The difference between “principle” and “principal” is rather profound.

Principle: A fundamental truth, law, rule of conduct, integrity, basic part.

Principal:  First in rank, importance, the head of a school, the amount of a loan on which interest              is computed. I’m thinking “head of school”.

In my day, only teacher’s pets could heed a summons to the Principal’s office without apprehension. Those of us, who were not, walked the long hallway with dread. Our misconduct was cause for the summons. Today there is probably a salaried person who does nothing but handle cases of misconduct. And knowing the caliber of misconduct in these times, he or she might be armed! Who knows? I am  beyond being called to “the office”…but there was a time.

In Lincoln Street Elementary, E.V. Cain held sway. He was a handsome but stern Principal who went easy on me because he and his wife were friends of my folks. Our chats were along the lines of, “We don’t need to get your mother and father involved, do we?” No sir, we did not. “Then I suggest you just curtail you energy and apply it to the playground during recess.”  Yes sir, I assured him…I certainly will. But whereas I got off easy, Edward did not.

We were in the first grade and Edward was not taking instruction well. Mrs. Blodgett told him to stand in the corner and he told her to go to hell. She phoned “the office” and E.V. Cain came down instantly. He confronted the pouting and confused Edward and demanded he apologize to the teacher. Edward told him to go to hell, upon which E.V. grabbed him by the foot, up ended him…and dragged him the length of the hall into his office. I did not witness what happened next, but Edward did not appear in class again.  Many years later, long after our brief elementary time together, I saw him sitting in a car out on Walnut Street. I approached him, said “Hello Edward.” He was strangely docile, but said my name and acknowledged my presence. I heard later that he had been given an operation which muted his latent threatening manner. It was a sobering experience.

In High School, Robert R. “Bob” Hartzell was the genial Principal for many years. He had a round face, rapidly receding hairline and seemed to get along without incident except for the time when the students staged a stay out of class in protest to Coach Elmer Martin being fired for chewing tobacco or something. We were gathered on the lawn on the north side of the old high school, and Bob sent his Vice President, John Hill, to deal with us. He was a stern fellow and meant business. We soon went back to the classrooms.

Colleges and Universities had Presidents, rather than Principals, but did they ever concern themselves with individual student misconduct? Seems unlikely…but then I only spent a semester or two at Chico State, and never had an audience with their President, Amer J. Something. Probably just as well as he was in ill health at the time and would have been in no condition to drag anyone down the hall.

I don’t need to tell you that we’ve had a cold spell. Everybody is up on the subject as to where the thermometers were down the lowest. Reports came in that established new records for the coldest day. As a skier, one gets accustomed to freezing one’s tail off, but only on purpose, not by accident in your own backyard. Our new employees from Los Angeles now look at me with raised eyebrows. I had been telling them a month ago, during heavy rains,  ”Indian Summer will return and you’ll be walking around in your shirt sleeves.” While  waiting to walk around in shirt sleeves they are bundled up like bears.

Back on the farm, we think of our animals. I wake with a start realizing that the horse trough is frozen over. So I go down to the grove and break the ice, but the float and pipe are frozen solid, so after a few days, the water that remains will be too low for the chickens to reach. I ponder this predicament. I could give them water with an eye dropper, but they are too quick for me and I haven’t the patience to corner them. I will just set out a pan of water which will do until one of the horses comes along and either trips over it or decorates it.

And then there are the birds…the hungry and thirsty birds. Soon I am out in front of the house with bowls of water and crumbling up bread like mad. I used enough to stuff a turkey, which is a curious metaphor at a time like this.

I fret about the dogs at night. Are they dry and warm enough? How about radiant heat in a dog house? The female dogs would appreciate a flannel nightgown I’m sure. Barbara Ann Nolan (her given name) is a small black short haired bitch…not at all like her name sake. She would go for the nightgown. Toby, the St. Bernard doesn’t need a night gown. He says this is the first time all year he has been comfortable.

The cold weather is very tough on us animal lovers…or can you think of a better name for us? “Simple minded” might work.

Robert Minch

What this country needs is more love songs…or at lease love poems.

The Vine And The Dove

Dost love me, my dearest, twin spirit of mine,

As the beautiful arbor is loved by the vine?

So trustfully clinging till winter is past,

Though all of its clusters and leaves have been cast.

I miss thee, my darling, as the dove doth his mate;

When parted by absence how mournful his state!

So tenderly calling thro depths of the wood,

True type of devotion, both gentle and good.

But the vine cannot speak, it only can cling,

And the dove cannot write, he only can sing;

How much better are we, who’ve tongues and the pen!

Let us love and rejoice again and again.

Benjamin Franklin Minch (1869-1936)

Some may interpret this modest contribution to contain an excessive use of the personal pronoun…and others may mutter, “Oh well..after all, it is free.” Whatever your take on the matter, this blog, website, column, is designed to be just an opinion. It deserves to be, I humbly submit, to be on the op-ed page of a newspaper, but the fates have deemed otherwise. So I am reduced to this medium which knows no bounds but also knows no readership stats. Perhaps it is a memoir…and yet that sounds rather final.

Daniel Mendelssohn, in the New Yorker, quotes Sigmund Freud who scoffed at the idea of writing an autobiography. “That is of course quite an impossible suggestion. Outwardly, my life has passed calmly and uneventfully and can be covered by a few dates.  A complete and honest confession of life, on the other hand, would require so much indiscretion on my part as well as on that of others about family, friends and enemies, most of them still alive, that it is simply out of the question.” And perhaps his most relevant observation: “What makes all biographies worthless is, after all, their mendacity.”

I first encountered the word “mendacity” in the play, “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof”. Tennessee William’s character Big Daddy deplored the lying he discovered within his own family. But Freud was apparently referring to the ways writers color and enhance their own accomplishments…and distort or demean those of others. I shall not be a party to that. Having failed at the writing of fiction, I shall relate true stories as faithfully and accurately as possible. Poetic license aside, that is.

* * * * * *

Local churches please copy: Covent Presbyterian Church of Los Angeles now allows dogs to accompany their owners during church services. The church now has a head count of 120 human members and a muzzle count of 1 2. Conversely, The Underwood Presbyterian church of Omaha, has decided to scrape their PAWS program allowing dogs at church. What do you make of that? My guess is that some of the pets were not house broken…and such conduct would be counterproductive in church when the congregation is urged to come forward for communion, and must tread their way through deposits on the carpet and dog pee on the railing. Perhaps our pets must find their salvation at the Vets. Say, there’s an idea! A combination veterinarian and minister! Talk about healing…it would be a twofer!

* * * * * * *

Another epiphany:   If creationists would read and accept Richard Dawkins latest book, “The Greatest Show on Earth”, which carefully explains the evidence for evolution…then religious leaders the world over would have to change their tune in order to keep the collection plates full and their specialized raiment dry cleaned. It would have a profound effect on literal followers of the scriptures.

* * * * * * *

Department of Clarification: In the legal notice section of the DN, there was a recent declaration to the effect that “Bert’s Etc.” is doing business on Mendenhall Road. This enterprise, is not conducted by Little Bert, our Pomeranian familiar to many readers. No, this is operated by Bert Endicott, or so says the notice. Little Bert has retired from retail activity and now concerns himself with grooming and napping.

* * * * *

Last week’s quiz was answered  by a trio of readers such as J. Angelo, L. Merry and S. Orner, who knew that Abe Saperstein, in 1927 in Chicago, formed the Harlem Globetrotters, the Kingfish’s wife (in Amos and Andy) was named Sapphire…and the railroad in Disneyland is named the Santa Fe and Disneyland Railway.

This week’s quiz: The expression “straight”, as opposed to “gay”, may have derived from the Boy Scout Oath. Can anyone quote the oath?

* * * * *

A customer went to the same barber month after month, and had to endure the barber habit of belittling everything the customer said. When he told the barber he had a new BMW, the barber told him he should have bought a classier car such as a Ferrari. When he said he lived in a new area south of town, the barber sneered and said it was miles from shops and had no decent pubs. The customer announced he was going to Rome…and hoped to talk to the Pope. The barber said no chance of that and bet him a hundred dollars he would not succeed. However, he accepted the bet and went to Rome. When he returned to the shop the next month, the barber demanded his $100.00. The customer replied, “Well, I guess you owe me…you see, I did have a conversation with the Pope.”

The barber sputtered, “Whhhhat? How did that happen?”

“Well, I was walking around St. Peter’s Square…and suddenly, the Pope appeared walking toward me! I was stunned. When he came near, he stopped and stared at me!”

“What did he say?” asked the barber.

“He said, ‘Where on earth did you get that terrible haircut?’”

(To respond to this website: rminchandmurray@hotmail.com

I had a fantasy the other day while shopping in Brooks Drug Store. I was therein to reinforce my system with Vitamin C and a good winter’s supply of Contac and Benzedrex inhalers. Proprietor John Brook had mentioned the name of Carter B. Smith. Then later, on Main Street, I saw a couple of handsome young people who just had to be cosmopolitan San Francisco types. I jumped to the conclusion that Carter was in town visiting his Mom for Thanksgiving…Mom being Mrs. Thelma Smith of the Tennessee Walking Horse Smiths. As it turned out, his sister Becky was in town, but not Carter B. No matter for my fantasy, however.

Now, Carter B. Smith and Don Sherwood were for years the reigning personalities of KSFO radio in the city by the bay. They have been off the air for some time now, but at one time, they really brightened up the early morning hours of the airwaves. So, with a slight temperature, and dropping ascorbic acid like mad, I figured that my big moment had arrived.

You see, I had been working on an original song, and needed only the right contacts to sell it. Therefore, I would invite Mr. Smith and his chums over to our place to play some tennis…and while they were batting the ball about, I would slip into the living room, apply my magic fingers to the keyboard of our grand piano…and my fantastic new melody would waft gently over the court. Carter would stop in mid-stroke, clutch his wife to his bosom…that is, his chest, her bosom…and shout, “My Gawd! What a song! Author, author!” at which point I would stride out on the court in my white flannels, dark glasses, St. Bernard on a leash and my pet chicken under my arm. The rest would have been history.

But…do you think the pet chicken would have been a bit much?

Robert Minch (1929-    )

We continue to re-print  Dave Minch’s “I Say” columns stretching back to the depression years of the late 30’s to the time of his demise in 1964, and some seem as timely today as when they first saw print in the Red Bluff Daily News. His philosophy was best expressed in the following statement:

“When I die, it is probable that the majority of people who know me will say, ‘The darn fool had enough money to live on, but he worked himself to death trying to get more!’ This would not be true for several reasons.

Most of the talk today is about a shorter work week and retiring at a younger age to enjoy living. I think the normal man, if in good health, and has worked most of his life, would quickly tire of sleeping late, fishing, golfing and trying to figure out some way to keep passing the time. There is that satisfaction in accomplishing things that could not possibly be equaled by sitting around and waiting to pass on.

I enjoy creating jobs, hiring men, seeing them buy homes, raise families and live as respected men in their communities. And the greatest reason I leave to last. That is the joy of working. I always feel sorry for the man who watches the clock each day and looks forward to his retirement. He is either in work for which he is not fitted or else does not enjoy working. I cannot remember a morning when I did not get up and go to work with pleasure, and this includes working as a car cleaner for Southern Pacific at Gerber, working as a laborer for a contracting company, and working in a peach orchard for 30 cents an hour. Enjoying your work means that you would rather be doing your work than any form of entertainment or relaxation.”

That father believed all this, I have no doubt. However, a short quote from his diary dated March 27, 1934 tells the other side of the coin when he was running his grocery store on Main Street: “Am going to Redding in the morning with eggs, carrots, veal and lamb. Dammit. I’m tired and going to bed.”

Speaking of Evolution (in the I Say section), biologists have discovered that one large dinosaur had two brains…or at least two clusters of ganglia…one in the head the other at the base of his spine. This gave way for Bert Leston Taylor (1866-1921) to rhapsodize about the creature in verse:

Behold the mighty dinosaur,
Famous in prehistoric lore,
Not only for his power and strength
But for his intellectual length.
You will observe by these remains
The creature had two sets of brains-
One in his head (the usual place),
The other at his spinal base.
Thus he could reason ‘A Priori’
As well as ‘A Posteriori.’
No problem bothered him a bit
He made a head and tail of it.
So wise was he, so wise and solemn,
Each thought filled just one spinal column.
If one brain found the pressure strong
It passed a few ideas along.
If something slipped his forward mind
‘Twas rescued by the one behind
And if in error he was caught
He had a saving afterthought.
As he thought twice before he spoke
He had no judgment to revoke.
Thus he could think without congestion.
Upon both sides of the question.
Oh, gaze upon this model beast,
Defunct ten million years at least.

Quite clever, Bert, quite clever.

A fellow came into the office and wanted to put properties, listed for sale or for lease, on his website…for free. Always a skeptic, I quizzed him about how long he had been in business and who was locally signed up for his services…his free services. Toward the end of our chat, I said I would checkout his website and we could discuss it at a later date. He replied that he had 52 counties to cover, and would not be back. “All I want to do is get on your computer,” he said, “… and show you how to access us”.

I quoted my father’s adage: “If you have to answer yes or no to a proposal, right now, the answer should be No”

The fellow’s face reddened, he slammed shut his brief case, rose from his chair and stormed out the door shouting, “You don’t trust me! I am a Christian man. I do not lie!”

Well, in my mind, he made a tactical error…and I suspect he was having a bad day of rejections. On the other hand he may have been prescient and realized he was wasting his time talking to an old curmudgeon. In any event, we were both glad to be rid of each other.

* * * * *

Pete Stiglich is running for a State position. His brochure does not specify which seat he is after, but I suspect it is Wally Herger’s in the US House of Representatives. His brochure is a bit much. It reads that he is not “Peter”, but “Pete, he is not “Mister” but “Colonel USAF, Retired”…and dubs himself a “Traditional Conservative Republican”. His slogan is, “It’s All About Liberty!”, and somewhere in the depth of his stated beliefs, we find he is a “Proud Reagan conservative”. No beating around the bush with this fellow.

I may not vote for him for just one reason: Some time back he was writing a column for the DN, and he chose, as title, “DARE I SAY?”…and in my revered spot on Friday! Needless to say, this did not endear me to him and his editor. However, the column has been discontinued by said editor because of conflict with his office seeking. So, if he wins, we won’t have to endure his weekly efforts. If he loses, he may be back at it with a vengeance. It is a difficult choice.

* * * * *

Lake Superior State University released their “35^th annual list of words banned from the Queen’s English for Mis-use, Over-use and General Uselessness”. On such list we find phases such as “In these economic times”, “toxic assets” and “too big to fail”, “shovel-ready”, “teachable moment” and words such as “stimulus”. Whereas some words and phrases from last year’s list still pervade…”bailout”, “Wall Street/Main Street” and “carbon footprint” and continue to be abused, thankfully “first dude”, “maverick” and “game changer” were relegated to the sidelines. I would personally nominate “that said” to the list…but then I use it occasionally, so never mind. But “Hope springs eternal” is just too good and wishful to abandon in these trying times.

* * * * *

“The sole reason for imposing a middle name on a child is so he can tell when he is really in trouble”.  Anon

* * * * *

Is it not strange that by changing a letter in a word, good becomes bad? For example, “tonic” becomes “toxic”? No? Very well, let’s move on to the quiz.

Last week’s quiz was, as of this writing, not answered by any reader. With the thrilling Super Bowl still reverberating in our conscious, it is no wonder that answers were not forthcoming.  Anyhow, in the old days, one was instructed to “Swing and sway with Sammy Kaye”,  we knew that Lionel Hampton played the vibraphone, drums and a little piano with two fingers…and that Jack Lemmon played creditable piano in bars and lounges before becoming a movie star.

This week’s quiz: Who founded the Harlem Globetrotters and when, in Amos and Andy, what was Kingfish’s wife’s name, and what is the railroad running through Disneyland called?

* * * * *

Manton madcap L. Merry sends in the following parrot joke:

Woman goes into a pet shop, sees that a parrot is for sale for $20.00, and asks why so cheap. The pet store owner says, “Well, this parrot lived in a brothel for many years, and sometimes his language can be quite colorful.” Woman says that would not bother her, buys the bird and takes it home. When they arrive the parrot says, “New madam, new house!” The woman thinks this is adorable. Soon her daughters come home and he parrot shouts, “New house, new madam, new girls!” and they all laugh. When the woman’s husband comes home, the bird perks up and says, “Hi, Keith!”

(To respond to this website: rminchandmurray@hotmail.com)

Our local post office is where you will often bump into friends you have not seen for years.   I recently met a widow of my acquaintance stretching back to our high school days. She is well into her 80’s, yet has maintained her good looks, slender figure, mischievous smile, wit and flashing eyes. In short, she is unlikely to fall victim to a senior scam.

When I was a freshman, she was a senior, and she, so to speak, took me under her wing. I thought she was terrific and she thought I had a lot to learn about life as a teenager.  We hit it off in a platonic way because, after all, I was just a lowly freshman.

She graduated, went off to college and I lost track of her for while. When she returned to Red Bluff, she had married a basketball star from Chico State, and we renewed our friendship. Their marriage lasted for many years, until a few years ago, when one afternoon, he decided to take a nap… and never awakened. Their children gathered around her for comfort, but she was tough and came through her ordeal with flying colors. Her husband had been a pilot, so the metaphor is appropriate.  After his demise…they had lived in the country for much of their lives, she moved into town where she lives alone… and apparently thrives on being independent and self reliant.

I’ve related this story of an acquaintance that stretches back over 65 years because of several reasons.  The first is that one does not meet a person of her age possessing the same energy and vitality she possessed as a teenager. Graceful aging is what the game is all about. Secondly, I admire the way she has weathered the storm of widowhood…a phrase of which she would scoff. And finally, I write of her because of the advice she gave me at a time when I was a smart aleck kid with a wealthy father and very full of myself. We were standing on Main Street in front of the old Peter Pan Café, and out of nowhere came her critical remark. She said, “Keep on what you’re doing, young man…and you will be riding for a fall!” After all these years I can’t remember of what misconduct I was guilty but her warning did give me pause and I decided to tread lightly thereafter. It was, of course, advice that could apply to anyone. Whenever you think you are on top of the world, it can be a precarious perch indeed.