Through An 'Old Timer's' Eyes
By Howard 'Mac' McDonald

"I knew you in Arizona," the caller said. " My name is Tom Heber and I am at the Moose Club." I pulled on my shoes and headed to the Moose.

Did you ever sit with a couple of friends and reminisce for a couple of hours? All the memories come flooding back. Once Tom and I cooked a pig in the pit in the ground and we relived the 24 hours it took. It was real important that someone watch and see that there was no smoke leaking of our pit. We entertained ourselves with country music and some cold refreshments.

I was also reminiscing about the telegraph. With the advent of the Internet, is there still a telegram service? I wonder if the families of the service people being killed in Iraq and Afghanistan are still being notified by telegram?

It used to be if you wanted to impress your girlfriend, you would send her a singing telegram. I remember a story about this man answering his door and it was a guy delivering a telegram. The man asked if it was a singing telegram, and the messenger answered no.

"If you want a big tip, you had better sing the telegram," he responded. The messenger replied, "But, sir, this is not a singing telegram. Finally, not wanting to lose his tip, the guy sang out this message, "Your sister Kate is dead; she fell out of bed."

Thanksgiving time brings back memories of the feast that my mother would prepare. My Dad always went to extremes and, one Thanksgiving, he brought home this 35-lb. turkey. When my mother saw this feathered monster, she went berserk.

My mother, brother and I had to slay this giant gobbler, who had spurs four inches long and a beard that would have matched Rip Van Winkle's.

We heated a galvanized washtub of boiling water on the kitchen stove, dipped this bird in the water and after two hours we had all the feathers plucked. What a mess we made out of the kitchen.

When my mother worked her magic on this giant bird, it was juicy and tender. Our kitchen range was a "Home Comfort" brand, and provided the heat for our downstairs.. On the firebox side was a 35-gallon tank that supplied our hot water. On the other side was an oven that would hold ten loaves of bread.

The salesman who sold this stove, a very dapper looking man, arrived driving a very impressive buggy drawn by a high-stepping sorrel horse.

He had a scale model of this stove and he would show all the people he called on what a beauty it was. Something was always cooking. As my mother said, "If the stove is lit, you don't waste the fuel just for heat."

When my older and only brother and I get together, we always reminisce. We had a laugh not too long ago about the time my mother painted the kitchen chairs and table. Money was tight and when you came home from school, you had to get out of your school clothes.

My brother came home that afternoon and sat down in one of the chairs to take off his shoes. He painted the seat of his pants. The paint even soaked through to his underwear.

With my mother on the warpath he got so nervous that he sat down again and, you guessed it, he painted his butt lavender. When she saw his lavender backside, she laughed so hard that she forgot about punishing him.

I told my brother a story that he had never heard about our Pap. My brother was in the Army, serving in the occupation of Germany. The war was over and the manufacture of new cars had been started up again. My dad had a friend who owned a Packard dealership and my dad sold cars for him.

Once, he sold the top of the line four-door Packard to a doctor. His commission came to around $100. The dealer also had a store that sold war surplus goods. Instead of taking the commission, my dad took a ten-man life raft.

Back in 1928, my dad had lost his left hand in an industrial accident. One day, the car dealer stopped at our house and said to my mother, "Maggie how do you like the raft?" My mother's reply was, "you bum!" I would like to punch you right in the nose. Giving a one-armed man a row boat is like giving a one-legged man a bicycle." My brother cracked up when he heard that.