Thought for the Day: Answering Questions

"When a child asks you something answer him, for goodness, sake. But don't make a production of it. Children are children but they can spot an evasion faster than adults, and evasion simply muddles 'em."  - Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird

Thought for the Day: Work Tracks

Choose the advice you follow carefully.

There are no calluses on the hands of self appointed experts.

©Herb Ratliff

What I Did The Summer of 1959

Thought For The Day

In the summer of 1959 I was seriously in need of a job. I was beginning to panic. There seemed to be nothing available and from out of the blue I got an offer I couldn't refuse.

If you remember 1959 you'll recall that was the year our President, Dwight D Eisenhower made the first phone call to Canadian Prime Minister, John Diefenbaker by bouncing a radio signal off the moon. Now, we use satellites as bouncers. The US launched half a dozen satellites that year and sent a couple of monkeys into space which returned unharmed.

Jack Kilby of Texas Instruments filed a patent for the Integrated Circuit.

It was also the summer of the "Kitchen Debates". Richard Nixon, then Vice President and Nikita Krushchev, Russia's top man exchanged barbs. Nixon proclaimed that our technological advancements in kitchen appliances would make kitchen duties for  women easier and Krushchev retorted, "Russian women aren't confined to the stove." (I know, you were wondering when that started.)

One of the more notable enterprises of 1959 was the introduction of the Xerox 914. There had been "wet" process copiers for a while but the Xerox was the first dry technology system. Hence, Xeros, Greek for dry and 914 which alluded to the capability of reproducing a 9" by 14" document.

My job? I was in church discussing the serious lack of work opportunities with a friend within ear shot of my mother. A gentleman from the congregation overheard us and approached, he said he had a rather large field of sugar beets that needed to be hoed and would pay us .75 cents an hour to do it. My mother accepted the offer almost before he completed the sentence. I had been thinking of an executive position. Welcome to humility. Mother said something about "living by the sweat of your brow" and I mumbled something inappropriate that was thankfully lost in the exchange.

"Thank you?" It took all my strength to say it. Fortunately my friend accepted the job too and so my summer was spent in the fields hoeing sugar beets for seventy five cents an hour. 

Sometime, if your job really seems like the pits. Go out into an agricultural area and find a field of low lying crops. Walk out into the field and stand at the edge of the field. Turn and look the full length of the row and imagine making certain that no weeds are in that row after you have walked the entire length and removed them. Your reward is to turn and walk back on the next row all day long. 

Just for the record, seventy five cents wasn't that much in 1959 either. But, after a full day I would accrue $6.00 and $30.00 for the week. I didn't date much that summer.

©Herb Ratliff, July 9, 2012, All Rights Reserved

While You Were Out: Part II

Thought For The Day

From yesterday: While You Were Out


On a fourth of July weekend somewhere around their child's third year I invited them over for a cookout. As fate would have it the event we speak of was just after the Berber carpet was installed.  In planning the event I gave no consideration to child care. Since it was a cookout, hot dogs and hamburgers seemed the logical choice along with cold slaw, potato salad and baked beans, finished off with chocolate cake and ice cream.

This is going to take a little longer than I thought. Stop by tomorrow for the rest of the story.

Part II

When my friends arrived I was almost surprised to see their daughter. I was not accustomed to being around people with small children. She was a lovely child, pretty and charming but then she started exploring. A three year old in an adult males apartment is not a pretty sight. Everything needed to be picked up and put in a holding area until the tiny explorer left.

This is when my obsessive nature began to rear it's ugly head. I began thinking about the food. How could I manage cooking, serving and controlling a three year old with baked beans, chocolate, ketchup and mustard on a paper plate? I knew the guests would not be concerned about my cream Berber carpet. I could see the ketchup on it, being ground into the fibers with grubby little hands. Damn! What could I do?

Seems like something else was happening of interest, maybe Wimbledon. Anyway, there was something being watched on tv and people were wandering around inside and out chatting, munching exploring. I was preparing the hot dogs and hamburgers while obsessing over the carpet and ketchup.

When the burgers and hot dogs were finished I placed them on a buffet table along with condiments and accessory dishes. I invited people to help themselves to food and went back into the kitchen to take a quick inventory of what was out and what would come out later. Then, she caught my eye. The little person was getting her own food. Damn! I rushed over to help her. She didn't require any assistance. (I think that's the adult version of: "No! Me get.") I was hovering over her with fear and trepidation and wondered why her parents were so calm and relaxed. I needed a quart of Maalox.

To my absolute amazement. She got her food, accessorized it, ate it and put her plate in the waste basket without a crumb hitting the floor. (I , on the other hand, had developed a bleeding ulcer.)

When folks left I sat on the patio for a bit and then went to the pool and took a swim. I didn't realize how tired I was until I woke up from an hour long nap. When I awoke I was starved. It was then I realized I had not eaten. I was seriously hungery.

I went back to the house and fixed myself a couple of hot dogs, slathered with onions, ketchup, et al, loaded my plate with potato salad, cold slaw and baked beans; threw on a couple of brownies and headed for the TV room to watch some more tennis. As I hustled through the living room I stumbled when the plate started to give way under the weight of the meal atop it. Only then, in painfully slow motion, did I see what all of those things that I worried about a three year old spilling, could do to a new, cream colored, Berber carpet.

So, if it gets in your head and you start focusing on it, it will happen; just not necessarily in exactly the same way you think it.

©Herb Ratliff, July 3, 2012, All Rights Reserved

While You Were Out

Thought For The Day

When you think things, they usually happen, but not always in the way you thought they would happen.

When I lived in South Florida I had a townhouse in a small golf course community. It was ideal for me. There was a swimming pool, tennis courts and golf at the ready. There was no maintenance for me to do day to day, security was provided and there was even a hospital close by for medical services.I traveled a lot. It was not uncommon for me to be away a couple of weeks at a time.

So when I returned from a lengthy business trip to find an old friend sitting in my kitchen amid fans, rolled up carpeting, open doors and windows, it was more comforting than shocking. I immediately knew there had been a problem and more importantly that it had been addressed.

He greeted me with.... "You had a leaky water heater. It's been replaced. We'll have the rest of this stuff dried in a few hours. Got another place you can stay a couple of days?"

That isn't what you are looking for after a long trip.

During the next few days it was insurance adjusters and color selection for paint, carpet and the rest. My friend owned the company doing the work so it was fast, high quality and thorough. The carpet ended up being a Berber. It was cream colored, but since I lived alone I figured I could make do with it. A moment of lost perspective led me down the primrose path of forgetfulness. I am far too punctilious for cream colored carpet.

When living alone one quickly overlooks bad decisions. There is no one there to remind you of those errors in judgement. They lie dormant until you are subpoenaed to the court of practicality.
So here we begin that case.

I have some friends who are writers. They do it for a living and they do it rather well. It is a second marriage couple and so children did not come up as an issue until the biological clock of the incubator began to creep dangerously close to edge of dormancy. Then a darling baby girl was born and became the highlight of their lives.

Artistic types make for interesting parents. They just see the world differently than earth people. So, there are certain conceits they are less likely to embrace. There is rather, an excessively laissez-faire approach to parental control. When their daughter became ambulatory she was immediately given free reign to advance her dispositions in a very democratic arena. This was a rather alien concept to me as a somewhat hands on dad.

On a fourth of July weekend somewhere around their child's third year I invited them over for a cookout. As fate would have it the event we speak of was just after the Berber carpet was installed.  In planning the event I gave no consideration to child care. Since it was a cookout, hot dogs and hamburgers seemed the logical choice along with cold slaw, potato salad and baked beans, finished off with chocolate cake and ice cream.

This is going to take a little longer than I thought. Stop by tomorrow for the rest of the story.

©Herb Ratliff, July 2, 2012, All Rights Reserved

Feeling Good

Thought For The Day

Zoe and Charley

I'm not sure you ever really understand how much giving is about satisfying your own need for acceptance and appreciation until you have a dog. Where I have written dog you may substitute, cat or horse. Children also may be used there, but only if you have figured out how to have a predictable relationship with them. I'm about to lose control of this and I've only just started.

Charley is my part this and part that "rescue" dog. He enjoys being brushed. For him, that is like a day at the spa, I suppose. I have never been to a spa. Anyway, he sheds, big time. I am constantly aware of his unwanted contribution to my untidy house. It just goes with the territory. It occurred to me once while I was bathing him  and using a brush to make sure the shampoo got down to the skin, that if I had done that before the bath I might avoid dealing with all of that wet dog hair. And so, I began brushing him regularly. At first he was not interested. Gradually he became more and more appreciative of the activity and now when I offer to "brush" him, he is at the ready the moment I offer.

For my part, I began the process because it helped reduce the amount of ambient fur in the house. OK, not much but it gave me illusion of being helpful. Then, I noticed how much he had gotten into the process. His whole demeanor would change when I offered to brush him. He would run for the door and wait for the fun to begin. 

As I brushed him I could almost hear him making grateful groans and saying "a little to the left" as we proceeded. After I decided that enough of this had happened he would start running in circles and jumping about. That is his method of saying thank you or I'm very happy. But what really surprised me was how good I felt. And all I had done was brush him. 

I've learned a lot from Charley. He has been responsible for teaching me a number of things. And, a reminder that being attentive and thoughtful to those around you is a very good thing, even if you get some pleasure from it too.

©Herb Ratliff, June 18, 2012, All Rights Reserved

Thanks Dad

Thought For The Day

I was more inclined to complain about the limitations of my father than to praise him. He knew that he was not the object of adulation, but went right on working anyway.

I grew up with five sisters, a stay at home mom and an absentee father. Not really absent, but he was gone most of the time. Gone because he worked an eight hour shift, unless he could get overtime, at Saginaw Steering Gear, a division of GM. He also was the proprietor of a small shoe repair shop, Economy Shoe Rebuilders where he spent another eight hours or more. He was not given to sports or other activities with friends, save an occasional get together with some musical pals with whom he could exercise his musical talent. And, his talent was considerable. Whatever else occupied his time, spending it with his family was not where he shined.

He and my mother had a tenuous relationship at best. This is not the place for that discussion, but suffice it to say, they needed each other, and that seemed to be the driving force in their relationship. What that need was is between them and that's where it belongs.

Dad began each week day by going into the Shoe Shop. He stayed there until about 3:00PM, then came home to a hamburger and canned peaches. There was no variety here, that was the daily fare. After eating he would either drive or have mom drive him to the Steering Gear where he worked until midnight. Quite often mom would go over and have "lunch" with him at work, then go and pick him up after work was completed.

On Saturdays he worked full time in the Shoe Shop unless overtime work was available which he would very often take. Sunday was a church day and dad would participate most of the time but not always. Church was not his preferred venue.

Sunday dinner was the weekly reward for going to church. We normally had quite a nice dinner and we all ate together. Sometimes we would go on picnics. When that happened it usually involved cousins and lots of good food that was punctuated with musical renderings by talented aunts, uncles and cousins along with my parents and sisters.

Dad was never offered the Pulitzer Prize or a position on the president's cabinet. He never ran for office. He wasn't a great hunter or fisherman. He didn't graduate from high school or college. What he did along with mother was provide a home, food and an education for six children. He taught us that not all that you do is reflected in what you personally have, but has a way of showing up like a vein of gold through hard rock and scrabble in the people you touch.

I do not believe I ever said so much as thank you to him for all the years he gave to make my life better than his. I even had the audacity to think he should have done more.

I was sitting in the funeral home alone one afternoon before his interment and a friend from high school came by to visit. It was a surprise to see him. He told me some stories about dad and visits he had with him. It was good to hear a friend talk about the man I barely knew in a warm and friendly way.

Happy Fathers Day, Dad. I wish I had gotten to know you better. And, thank you dad, thank you ever so much for all you did for me.

©Herb Ratliff, June 15, 2012, All Rights Reserved

Justine's Part 2

Her smile was relaxed and easy like she was greeting an old friend. She waited for an answer.
I was having a little trouble finding my voice.

She was very attractive and still in that ethereal place between the picture and reality. I'd been going since 5:30 AM and it was now past 9:00PM. I managed to utter something.

Then, she said, "I'm Justine."
And, capturing the situation perfectly she quickly took control and began a commentary about the food, what was fresh, a little about home grown vegetables and then how splendid the weather was and wasn't it a pity the Gazebo was full? It's such a fine place to have dinner.

She was so elegant, so charming and so welcome after the long day I had spent criss-crossing the country. I asked her if she would like a glass of wine.

Her reaction was measured but swift. "Yes", she said, so I stood and held her chair.

She asked if I would mind if she had a bottle of her favorite wine brought out and then began a conversation filled with interest and coincidence of remarkable proportions.

Things like that don't happen very often. As a matter of fact, I can say with considerable certainty that nothing like that will ever happen to me again. You never know when you lift your head from the pillow what the day holds for you, so no matter how it goes for the the first few hours, do not despair. What is waiting for you at the next bend in the road may make it all worth while.

I know that you would like to know a bit more about that evening and frankly, I would enjoy spending a bit more time remembering it, but I've shared all I am willing to. She was as much a lady as she appeared and I was as much a gentleman as I ever hoped to be.

The restaurant was closed a few years ago, 1995, I believe. The name and facility was auctioned off but the ambiance was not for sale. So, while you may be able to find a restaurant named Justine's in Memphis and a few other places, you will not find the one mentioned in this remembrance.

©Herb Ratliff, June 12, 2012, All Rights Reserved

The First Opener on the North Branch

Thought For The Day

Thirty one years later: August 2008

 back row l to r Paul Stenglein, Dave Stenglein, Jim Trembley, Jim Allerdyce, Me

Front: Jeff Stenglein, Bill Stenglein

During the winter of 1977 Jim Trembley and I had bought a piece of property on the North Branch of the Au Sable. A large section, about sixty acres had been split up into parcels, we had gone to Grayling, MI and got five of them, acres, with a little over two hundred feet of frontage on the river. We couldn't see it very well, it was wooded and pretty steep but it was ours and we were anxiously awaiting a chance to see it in the Spring. So on the Friday before the opener, it was the first official Arbor Day,  we headed north to our new spot to investigate.

The drive north is about two hours. We were pretty worked up about seeing it. We talked of building a place that overlooked the river, teaching our kids how to fly fish, lunkers just waiting for our mighty fishing skills and all the years we would get to fish together. When we finally arrived we were out of the car like a couple of kids going into Disneyland. The land looked absolutely pristine. I felt like the lord of the manner, OK, co lord. It was beautiful. The land sat near the foundations of the halfway house where the road crossed the river. It was a rest stop between Grayling and Mio. The fireplace stood high even though the hotel was long gone.

We wandered down by the river. It was difficult to walk because the ground was knotted up with grass and bog, a minor inconvenience. The stretch of water was straight, flat and deep, a perfect place to watch the surface dimple when the trout were feeding. We were mesmerized. It was getting late and dark and we had to find a place to spend the night. So we headed back toward the car. We were going in a different direction than our trip in and so we ended up passing near a cabin. A man was standing in the doorway. We waved and Jim said, "Let's go introduce ourselves." That shocked me because Jim was not the most social person I knew, especially when we were fishing. But, I said sure and we walked over to the house and met Bill Stenglein, the owner of the cabin.

He invited us into the cabin to have a beer. We said yes. We ended up having a pizza, meeting his sons and some family friends, spending the night and becoming life long friends. Telling you about Bill Stenglein and his family will have to happen another day. They deserve a lot of space. Enjoy the weekend friends, I will miss being there with you.

 And to you Bill, what can I say? I've never met a better fly fisherman or a better man. Thank you, my friend.

Herb Ratliff, April 27, 2012, All Rights Reserved

Old Friends and Old Habits

Thought For The Day

Jim Trembley

The last Saturday in April is the traditional opening of Trout Season in Michigan, a day that I looked forward to above all others for many years at least for my own benefit. The long, cold, grey winter could not diminish or dilute the longing to enter the river, fly rod in hand to test my skills against the wary trout. It was one of those spiritual moments when I became a part of the water, the environment and the promise of life's goodness. Here began the soft music of the fly line whistling through the air, the soft gurgle of the river, the ambient sounds of birds and insects all arranged in such precision that I felt weightless and intractably immersed in pure harmony.

Sometimes I got immersed in the river. Wading in a stream is an interesting way to spend a day. It is not without problems and surprises.

When I graduated from University of New Mexico and moved to Flint, MI I met a man who would become my closest ally in the world of fly fishing. Jim Trembley had grown up in Flint and in his pursuit of his goal of Eagle Scout had been exposed to nature in the best possible way, through the leadership of men who cared deeply for a good design for living, respect of people and the environment and a love of nature. Jim and I became frequent partners on the ride to the Au Sable  River. We would often take off on Tuesday evenings and drive north to the South Branch and fish the Mason Tract late into the night. We would fish all day Wednesday and return that evening. We rode together, had lively conversations and then fished alone and met at an agreed upon time to discuss our results. Sometimes the results were less about fish and more about how many different kinds of larvae live in the river that you can see quite clearly while sitting on a log by the bank or the richness of bird and animal life in the area.

Jim also ties flies and provides me with an endless supply them. Truth be told, every fish of size and memory that I have ever caught has been deceived by Jim, but he's a lawyer. What can I say?

Saturday I will not be fishing with Jim but I will be thinking about him and all the openers we spent together, I am in Atlanta, GA now and he still lives in Flint. Hopefully we will get together this summer for a fly fishing appreciation day if he isn't too old and tired for it.

Herb Ratliff, April 26, 2012, All Rights Reserved