NEW AND IMPROVED

This blog is now sugar FREE, fat FREE, gluten FREE, all ORGANIC and all NATURAL!!

Wednesday, August 14, 2019

The Banjo


The Banjo
 
Not much to post about these days, but this memory was stirred by a post from Rick @ https://www.rickwatson-writer.com/ .

 

Years ago, when I was in High School, so lots of years ago, I found an old banjo in our basement.  Now I always sort of thought it would be fun to play banjo, but this banjo was broken.  At the time I did not want to play an instrument badly enough to try and fix an old broken banjo.

I did think the banjo was beautiful.  It came in a hard case, had a nice wooden neck and what I later learned was a resonator.  The neck was covered with ivory inlay markings.  It was pretty, but it was broken. 

It was a four-string tenor banjo, but two strings were broken so it wouldn’t play.

A few years after my find, my brother brought a friend from college home for a visit.  The friend mentioned that he wanted to learn to play banjo.

My Pops spoke up,
“I have an old banjo in the basement.  It is old but it is a nice one and I never play it anymore.”

I was about to speak up and tell him that it was broken, when the friend spoke,
“Oh, thanks, but I couldn’t take it.”

“Nonsense, it is of no use to me, it is perfectly good, it only needs to be restrung.”

The friend took the banjo. 

I often wonder about that old banjo.  I might have tried playing if I knew strings were easily replaced.  I never thought to ask Pops about it before he passed.

My guess is that it was not a cheap banjo.  Cheap instruments are not always carried in an expensive hard case.  A cheap banjo might go for $100, and a good hard case $50.  Who would put a cheap banjo in an expensive case?

Also, my Dad did not often buy cheap.  He was thrifty, but he did not buy cheap stuff.  I’m not sure they even sold cheap banjos when he would have bought this one.  In the 1930’s they did not import stringed instruments from Taiwan, or Indonesia.  I doubt banjos were mass produced at home either.

My guess from researching the internet, and my best recollection, is the banjo was a Gibson, a very fine and expensive banjo.  This is mostly based on all the ivory inlays that I remember.

If only I had spoken up when I first saw that old banjo. I might have had a lot of fun with it, but mostly it would have been like having a piece of my Pops.

Broken strings are replaceable…who knew?

Oh well, I could probably afford to replace that banjo, but it would not be the same.  

I still have the memories of the old banjo, and my Pops.

The memories, unlike the strings, are not replaceable.

 

Thursday, August 8, 2019

GOLF ARRRG!


GOLF ARRRG!

Hmmm…no post in two days. 

Recent posts bordered on politics, a big (NO NO!), making fun of Mrs. C (Zzzzz), and a fart record re-run (Eeeew!).  I’ve got nothing.  Still I have a need to post something.  Why, I do not know. 

Perhaps I should join Bloggers anonymous.

“Hi, my name is Cranky, and I blog, even when I have nothing to say.”

“Hello Cranky.”

“All I have these days is golf, and no one likes golf.”

“Blog about it anyway Cranky, no one has to read it, you just need to post something.”

“Your right, thanks.”

I played golf today, second time this week.  Both days I came to the ninth hole two under.  (I generally only play nine holes, especially in this heat.)  That’s two under bogy, not two under par for those who know the game.  Two under par and I would be joining the senior circuit.

Anyway.

I come to the ninth hole and a simple score of five on this par four hole and I go home very happy.  This hole is only 330 yards long, but there is water 180 yards out and it would take a gorilla to drive past that water.

So, both days I lay up five yards from the water hole, an easy 150-yard five iron to the green, or even close to the green and it is chip, putt, putt, bogy-five and I go home a happy golfer.

Both days I hit the only topped grounder of the day dribbling right into the water.  Penalty, hit, chip, putt, putt, putt, and I go home pissed off and miserable after a round ruining eight.
 

Arrrg!!

This is a horrible game! 

Except, it is not commuting three hours a day on a sweaty train, working a crappy job, and coming home to a wack-a-doodle wife!

I now come home to a cold beer a good woman and a short nap.

Golf is tough.

Life is good.

 

 

 

Tuesday, August 6, 2019

PILLOW FIGHT


PILLOW FIGHT


My wife has a thing about pillows.  I will try my best to explain, but I don’t have it figured out myself.

We have lots of pillows on our bed.  Mrs. C has about eight.   I have I think six.  I only use two, but that would make the bed too unbalanced so I have six, I think, maybe it is four or five…

Mrs. C does not use all eight pillows at the same time, they all just have different purposes, even though they are all basically the same. 

She used six for watching TV, the other two are on the floor next to her holding up her computer power cord.  If she falls asleep with six pillows it is only short term. 

When she is ready to turn in for the night, she uses four pillows to sleep on, two pillows go to the end of the bed and the cord holding pillows are moved for what reason I do not know.

I sleep on two pillows and the other four are just scrunched up out of my way.

Mrs. C takes a nap in the day when I retreat to my basement lair to watch TV, exercise on my Total Gym machine, and practice guitar.  She naps on my pillows, always turning one up vertical resting against the other five pillows.  Always the same pillow.

The other day, as a test as I retreated downstairs I grabbed her vertical resting pillow saying,

“I’m going to need this downstairs.”

“I don’t think so!” As she grabbed one end and hung on for life.

“You have at least thirteen pillows, I need this one downstairs.”

“No you don’t, your just being a jerk.”

“No, I need this pillow!” (I was just being a jerk).

“DON’T MESS WITH MY PILLOWS!!”

Do you remember the “Exorcist?” Scary movie right? Not as scary as messing with Mrs. C’s pillows.

I didn’t really need it anyway.