Author: mikeljohnston1 (Page 44 of 267)
The evidence of Christmas Day is gone. Wrapping paper, empty boxes, bottles, cans, and cards have been recycled. The duck bones and remnants of the meal are on their way to the dump, with a few leftovers in the refrigerator. It’s so nice to once again have a working fridge in the kitchen. We no longer have to go to the garage now that it has finally been repaired – all the modern conveniences of home.
Gift giving was at a minimum this year after our trip to Kauai. I got a pair of socks and a new Kindle. Traditionally, I get my wife a Limoges Box each year and write a poem that’s stored inside. A porcelain cupcake was under the tree with a personal tribute to the pet-name I gave her many years ago – “Sweetie Pie”:
Cupcake
Tis the Season,
For candied scents,
Sugar Plums,
And Peppermints.
Pumpkin Bars,
Christmas cheer.
Gooey treats,
From the Chocolatier.
Slice of Key Lime,
Jamocha shake.
Recipes shared,
Goodies to bake.
Schweddy Balls,
Gum drops.
Peanut Brittle,
Lolly pops.
Cookie Monster’s,
Resistance weak.
Means dental care,
Early next week.
Let’s ice the cake,
And make Nazook.
Lick the bowl,
And kiss the cook.
These are a few,
Of my favorite things.
Outside of pizza,
And Wild Wings.
But the best of all,
Is Sweetie Pie.
Cupcake goodness,
Only mine to try.
Copyright 2022 johnstonwrites.com
It’s a chilly Christmas morning, our second celebration while living in Florida. Last year we were at Disney World with my wife’s oldest daughter and her husband. It was memorable because I screwed up my back. This is our first at home with little planned. We each have a gift to open, as every year there seems to be less and less under the tree. It’s hard to adjust to the retirement fact that money flows only one way – out.
I did make a reservation yesterday for our night in Orlando before catching a Frontier flight to Las Vegas. That isn’t until March, so we’ll be confined to the state of Florida until then. The snowbirds are starting to arrive, and we have our first meet-up next week in Punta Gorda with Decatur friends. After that, we’ll visit the San Marcos area for time with Elkhart friends, followed by a men’s golf trip to Anna Maria Island with former work buddies. My wife will stay home and entertain a girl friend from Indy, and then Ft. Wayne neighbors will visit. We’ll also take time to see my sister’s new place in Leesburg, overdue from last year, and stop by The Villages for a high school reunion with Mr. B. We’ll be busy but not more than a few hours from home until May for our Nile River cruise.
I just had a delicious cinnamon roll, baked by a neighbor to make up for all the calories I burned on this morning’s run. Once again, I was all bundled up and alone, with very few neighbors leaving the warmth of their homes. Tally did get to the dog park, as my wife had a rare occasion to wear one of her fur jackets, a memory of when my Christmas gifts were a bit more extravagant. She still deserves the luxuries of life like champaign, but now on a beer budget. Merry Christmas.
I was forced to bundle up on this Christmas Eve day in what is normally sunny Florida. However, the temperature was 35 degrees as I took to the streets this morning. The knee-high compression socks that I wore were comforting and supportive. Most days it’s just too hot to wear but it definitely helps keep my muscles and joints warm. My times were even a bit faster despite a stiff breeze on the way out. It felt good on the way back – the cold air in my lungs reminded me of being on the ski slopes. It also made me recall the only time I’ve ever won my age division in a 10k race. This was probably over 25-years ago in temperatures well below zero and unmentionable wind chills. Obviously, few people showed up and even fewer finished, but I seemed to relish the challenge.
Slow and steady is my motto these days, coinciding with my pace. There was one other runner that I spotted this morning guiding a dog on a leash. Our aging schnauzer Tally is usually only good for a short burst before she’s distracted by nearby smells. There was a time when she would tag along but not much anymore. My wife’s dog, Belle, when we first met, would actually wrap her leash around a mailbox post so she wouldn’t have to run with me. All my former pups -Gizmo, Smiley, Belle, Tinker, and Roxie – monitor my daily running streak from the heavens above, grateful that they don’t have to participate. Tally watches me pass by her dog park every morning and on occasion will come to the fence to greet me.
We had “Date Night” at Big Mike’s Pizza last evening and especially enjoyed their Mac & Cheese Boulders. As is the tradition, we always visit a new restaurant on this occasion. We have no plans for Christmas tomorrow since the beach picnic is cancelled due to cold weather. It would have just been the two of us, since my ex-wife and her family is now in town, so we’ll wait until next week to get together for gifts with the grandkids. A movie matinee might be in order, even though it’s not Monday.
We’re now down to a single vehicle going into the new year. I went to the third dealer this morning and got an even more disappointing offer, so I went back to Toyota for a check. It was far less than I had hoped but savings on license plates, gas, maintenance and insurance will help with the budget. With the cash, I’m now in position to buy the golf cart from my neighbor once he settles on a price. He was apparently disappointed in the offer he received, so we’re both in the same boat when it comes to expectations versus reality. Vehicles of any kind depreciate quickly.
I like this plug and go transportation option. Plus, Tally loves to ride in the cart. Hopefully, we can come to terms soon since I have an empty space in the garage. Our main refrigerator is now also back in operation providing more storage space in the garage. I mopped the floor, removing some of the oil drips from the car engine. This was one of the main reasons why it was time to get rid of it. Our next project will be sealing the driveway pavers, but the lack of sunshine and cool temperatures will delay that plan. We’ll also have to cover our plants to protect them from freezing.
I.U. basketball will keep me entertained tonight while we continue to collect Christmas goodies left on our doorstep by neighbors. The Christmas movies are starting to get old, as we make year-end decisions on which streaming services to cut back on. Having Netflix, Prime Video, HBO, Paramount, Peacock, Hulu, and Apple TV is a bit much. We can’t keep up on all these series we’ve invested in, and I’ve got to find more constructive ways to spend my time. Going with just one car and a golf cart is a start, but retirement savings is going too fast!
I cleaned out my car and even degreased the engine in hopes of finding a buyer. I was surprised at the low-ball offers that I got from Kelly Blue Book, Carvana, and various dealers despite the need for used cars. Sadly, I can’t even buy a used golf cart for what it’s apparently worth, and I really don’t want to put any more money into it. It’s due for an oil change, insurance premiums will be coming up, and license fees will soon take another bite. If I repaired the oil leaks it would cost another $2,000, so I’m at a stalemate. I can certainly wait until after the holidays to find a buyer, but not too much longer.
We have newly paved streets in the neighborhood so many of the familiar markers are gone along the route of my daily run. I had become very aware of every pothole, crease, and oil leak along the way. I’ve spent a lot of time staring at the pavement each morning. It’s been nearly two years now of running these streets as I quickly approach the 14-year mark of doing this every single day. I’m very proud of this accomplishment knowing that it could come to a stop any day now. The stiffness and heaviness in my legs makes me dread the first half-mile. Once I get to that point, my aging body begins to loosen up. I envy those that can move freely and pass me like I’m standing still. I just keep putting one foot in front of the other like a machine.
My car and I have a lot in common – rusted out on the inside and not worth much anymore. I wish I could trade my legs in on a new pair, but at least they still support me. There are too many people my age in wheelchairs, leaning on walkers, or bedridden to feel sorry for myself. I’m lucky to still find the motivation to take that first step every morning regardless of whether I’m home or not. These legs have carried me across frozen streets, blazing hot asphalt, up or down stairs, rutted trails, over cobblestones, fighting a fever, post-surgery, up never-ending hills, climbed mountainsides, around islands, through mud puddles, down dirt paths, on ship decks, busy highways, junk yards, crowded sidewalks, treadmills, and sandy beaches all over the world. I’ve run through airports, tunnels, malls, hallways, parking garages, grassy parks, football fields, and baseball stadiums. I’ve used indoor and outdoor tracks, worn rainsuits and snow gear, crampons for traction, braved a hurricane, gone barefoot, and even donned my street shoes when I forgot to pack my Brooks. There’s not much that can stop me, but I’ve also been lucky to avoid injury and serious sickness. Today was the 5,107th consecutive. Hopefully, there’s tomorrow.
I guess I’m just back to wingin’ it again, with reports on the hassles of retirement. For the past few weeks, I’ve struggled with my computer mouse and screen freezes. Every post I tried to make was a hassle in and of itself, restarting the computer over and over again. Plus, I was supposed to be relaxing in Kauai and enjoying family time, so a break from the routine was in order. When I got back home, I called a computer tech to find out what was wrong.
As he explained, my Surface laptop computer has an internal battery that swells as it ages and begins to warp the touch screen to the point that it starts to malfunction. I would need to invest in a new computer! He also offered a used model as an option, so I bought it despite a corner that was damaged, and he transferred all my data and apps. There are still a few glitches but I’m very happy with the outcome, as writing becomes once again a joy rather than a hassle.
I’m now back in my home office for three months before we travel again. We’re thinking about trading in the 2008 Toyota Solara that we own and going down to one car. One of our neighbors is moving into assisted living and has a golf cart for sale. We plan to buy it as a second vehicle, depending on the price he comes up with. It will simply plug into an existing garage outlet and should save on gas, insurance, and maintenance. Plus, it will be fun to join the daily parade of carts that are currently all decorated for the holidays. We can take it down the street to the grocery store, to the ballpark, and to the downtown area that they’re in the process of building in the adjoining neighborhood. We could even take it to the nearby golf course – if either of us played, so I guess we’ll have to call it something other than a golf cart – maybe an old fart cart!
The evolution of professional baseball is a tough road to follow and many cities throughout the United States lay claim to the origin. Ft. Wayne, Indiana is one of those many roots of the sport, dating back to just after the Civil War when the National Association of Professional Baseball Players was established. The creation of the game itself is accredited to Abner Doubleday in 1839. Elihu Phinney’s Cooperstown, New York cow pasture was ruled to be the first place it was ever played. Ft. Wayne claims to be the sight of the first ever professional baseball game in 1871 and the very first night game in 1883.
The Ft. Wayne Kekiongas hosted the Cleveland Forest Citys on May 4, 1871, resulting in a 2-0 victory for the home team. It sparked citywide excitement that led to the building of a new stadium called the “Grand Dutchess.” Two months later the Kekiongas withdrew from the league with a 7-21 record and the stadium was later destroyed by fire. The game of Trivial Pursuit credits the Kekiongas as the future Los Angeles Dodgers, but this connection is more likely a result of their league dues paid by a Brooklyn team that eventually became the Dodgers, who were officially founded in 1884.
The Kekiongas name was reclaimed in 1953 by the former GTE Voltman semi-pro team, Indiana State Champions, who lost their GTE sponsorship and joined the newly formed Ft Wayne Civic Baseball League. According to the book, Baseball in Fort Wayne by author Chad Gramling, a 1953 exhibition game against the Chicago White Sox was played. I could not find a box score from that game, but the Sox lost and Sherm Lollar most likely was the Chicago catcher, wearing #10 for the first time in his career, according to the White Sox opening day roster posted by Baseball Almanac.
In 1952, Red Wilson wore #10 while Lollar donned #45, his first year with the White Sox. He came to Chicago in a trade that sent Joe DeMaestri, Gordon Goldsberry, Dick Littlefield, Gus Niarhos and Jim Rivera to the St. Louis Browns for Lollar, Al Widmar, and Tom Upton. After a season together, Red Wilson must have let his catcher have the lower number and took #26 instead. For Lollar, it had been jersey #9 with the 1949-1951 St. Louis Browns, and #29 in 1947 and 1948 with the Yankees. Back in 1946 with the Indians, he was #12.
“Sherm Lollar was one of the top catchers in the major leagues in the early post-World War II era. Though he played with the New York Yankees, Cleveland Indians and St. Louis Browns, Lollar spent the vast majority of his career (12 years) with the White Sox,” 11 of those years he wore #10.
“Lollar has 1,415 career hits, 155 home runs, 808 RBIs, and a lifetime .264 average. A solid defensive catcher, he maintained a .992 fielding percentage behind the plate and gunned down 47% of all runners attempting to steal, which is a very high average.”
“In total, Lollar was named to nine all-star teams, he won three gold glove awards and earned a World Series ring with the 1947 Yankees.”
The Lollar trade from St. Louis, reported above, has me confused because Manuel Joseph “Jim” Rivera was supposedly part of that deal, but like too many baseball stories there is conflicting information. Nonetheless, “Jungle Jim” was Sherm’s White Sox teammate from 1952-1961 before “Big Jim” was traded to the Kansas City Athletics and Lollar retired from the game in 1963. This next excerpt is from the Fort Wayne News-Sentinel November 17, 2017. “Jungle Jim” Rivera, an outfielder on the 1959 “Go-Go” White Sox pennant-winning team, died Monday in Fort Wayne. He was 96.“
By RICHARD BATTIN
“Did you know Babe Ruth played baseball in Fort Wayne?
His visit here 65 years ago this month is just part of the city’s rich and colorful baseball history.
It was a cloudy day in early May 1927, when Ruth and the rest of the New York Yankees arrived in Fort Wayne by train.
The Kekiongas played the Chicago White Stockings, later the White Sox, that summer. Chicago lost so badly that the fans threw rocks at the Kekiongas’ carriage, injuring many of the players.
The team was then named the Kekiongas, like the team from 1871. It was sponsored by the Capehart-Farnsworth Co., which made appliances.
In 1950, the team went to Wichita and won its fourth national title in a row. The team went on to Japan and won the world semi-pro baseball championship. It was the first world championship won by a city team.”
I bought a new/used computer, so most of my editing and posting issues are now behind me as I get back into the daily blog routine. I’ll start with this poem that summarizes our trip to Kauai where we dealt with some plumbing problems in our on-the-surface luxury resort:
Island Christmas
A plunger by the toilet,
And buckets to flush.
Cheap toilet paper,
But the condo was plush.
Dancing Santa,
There to greet us.
No sign of Dinosaurs,
That might eat us.
A beautiful view,
But screaming brats.
Mother and daughter
Poolside chats.
Grumpy old man,
And “broken face.”
The tooth can be fixed,
The first-not the case.
A catamaran tour,
With a puke nuke.
Trampoline fun,
Dinner with Duke.
Looking to find,
A Dive Bar clue.
Nature abounds,
Cock-a-doodle-doo.
Dolphins jumping,
SEA Turtles to SEE.
Food and gas costly,
But the Hula Pie free.
World Cup Soccer,
Chess to play.
Waterfalls and rainbows,
Though too much grey.
“Wettest Spot on Earth,”
The sign read.
Gallons of wine,
Early to bed.
Spam for lunch,
Too many hot dogs.
Mini Van chariot,
Flattened frogs.
A wad of wasabi,
By mistake one night.
Hanalei Bay,
A “magical” sight.
Puka Dogs,
Tiki torches.
Folding glass panels,
To ocean-side porches.
Kalanipu’u,
Too many vowels.
Code Name teams,
Feathered Fowls.
Secret beach,
And elevator.
We finally got here,
Two Years later.
Pipes third-world,
At our first-rate resort.
Family Christmas,
But Time was too short.
“Mele Kalikimaka”
copyright 2022 johnstonwrites.com
We’ve now explored the entire island from the Waimea Canyon to the surrounding Pacific shores. At one stop there was a sign that read, “the wettest place on earth.” Red clay has stained my shoes and socks. We’ve seen some beautiful shoreline, saw the coastline from the deck of a catamaran, and walked the beach that “Puff the Magic Dragon” oversees. Our Marriott Vacation Club top-floor balcony overlooks a golf course, colorful, Jurassic Park-like vegetation, the resort pool, and beach shaded by stately palm trees and thatch-roofed huts.
We covered the North Shore of Kaua’i including Princeville, home of musician Todd Rundgren’s Tiki Iniki restaurant and surrounding, unique shops. The quirky menu featured tropical concoctions served in collectable tiki mugs and Spam burgers. I had pulled pork sliders on tarot root buns while my wife enjoyed her sticky ribs. The check was delivered in an empty Spam can. The nearby famous beach on Hanalei Bay was featured on the cover of James Michener’s original Hawaii novel.
There were only a couple of hassles on this adventure, including some seasickness aboard the catamaran, a tooth problem, water pipe break at the resort, and air conditioning disruption issues. However, this was still a first-rate family get together that was several years in the making.