SOME GOOD SIZED RATS

The following is an excerpt from my book "After The GIs - The Immigrant".

The time was in the mid to late 1940s in Post War Germany.

SOME GOOD SIZED RATS

In the front hall, under the attic stairway, we stored dozens of bundles of kindling wood. When grandfather was not visiting, either mom or I chopped the collected twigs into kindling in the backyard. The bundles were tied with green, flexible fir boughs and schlepped upstairs to the front hall.
We soon learned that the piles of kindling provided an excellent place for rats to build nests.

Those grey varmints sure got aggressive when the bundles of kindling were moved and their nesting places were disturbed. I remember one particularly large joker bounded out of the woodpile and darted around the front hall. Mother went after him and clubbed him to death with the straw broom, but not before he ran up the walls in big semicircles. She sent me to fetch the dust pan, which was not a dainty one. I held the pan while she swept the dead rat onto it. The thing was as wide as the pan, and its entire tail hung over the edge of the pan. We politely pitched him out the window. He landed in front of the stables where Mr. Beier had a chance to contemplate its beauty. (Mr Beier was the landlord who refused to sell us milk for my twin sisters.)

The rats never diminished. Through holes in the wall they came down from the attic and elsewhere, they seemed to prefer our kindling stacks as nesting places. I venture to say, it was a bit warmer in our front hall than in the cold attic, and safer than in the stalls below where weasels and owls had a chance at them.

Mother did not fancy getting her fingers snatched by a rat when she removed a bundle of kindling. She thought it necessary, when the kindling pile began to dwindle and the rat con- centration intensified, to borrow a friend’s Ger- man Shepherd dog. We kept the dog in the front room for a week, and supplemented his diet of rats with fresh bowls of water. However, during the following summer, as the kindling pile be- gan to grow tall, oodles of rats once again built their nests under the attic stairway.
I don't remember ever having mice. I guess the rats ate them for dinner.

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The Perfect Wind Ensemble

A shorter version of this story is in my book "A TIME AND PLACE The Making of an Immigrant." I have expanded the story and it will be published as part of an e-book in the near future.

The Perfect Wind Ensemble

The following year, I was selected to yet another, and different summer camp. Nuns managed the camp and took care of us.

The place we slept in was different from where we napped. I remember this camp well. Nuns took our temperature under the arm and not the more intrusive way to which I had been accustomed.

Because of an outbreak of mumps, five of us boys were quarantined in one room for a while. So, how do five boys pass time during a quarantine?

During such a time, and the close-knit camaraderie with the other four boys, I learned that flatulence was considered funny. Naturally, each of us in that room wanted to be the funniest. Contests to determine a winner were regularly held.

To counter boredom, we selected players and scorekeepers to judge teams consisting of two boys against the other two. The fifth boy was appointed to keep score. We rotated players and judges so all could get into the competition. Acceptable outbursts were scored in goals. A given timeframe was chosen, much like a soccer tournament.

Much twisting and grunting dominated the event. The scorekeeper had to show keen discernment between a real goal and one fabricated by other means. Accidents did happen––which resulted in frequent trips to the privy.

I learned during those educational times, that the desired noise can quite accurately be duplicated. This is done by placing a cupped hand under the armpit, and then quickly pressing the arm inward. With a little practice, the desired sound always erupted. Well, such learning was considered a magnificent achievement for all five of us. We practiced those joyous sounds until we sounded like the perfect five-piece wind ensemble.

Our wisdom expanded and we even came up with a ten piece orchestra. We learned that by spitting into our palms to dampen them, we could lie on our backs, place a cupped hand under each of our knees and pedal our legs; similar to the pumping of a bicycle. This combined effort filled the room with triumphant music that fed uproarious laughter and giggles. . . .Thank God for the mumps.

Beaver Attack

Carol and I have worked hard to settle the cold and stormy depths of our Floyd County woods. Our beautiful pond is man-made which apparently upset one of the native inhabitants.

As you can see, last year we added a dock, a ramp by which to walk into the water, a patio to sit around the fire pit, and a weeping willow to eventually shade most of the patio.

Two days ago, as we pulled up to the cabin Carol hollered, "Look, look! What has happened to our willow?" The trunk of the tree was chewed in half making the top topple over. Only the middle was still tied to the post that kept it steady when the harsh winds blew.

As I snuck up to the situation a large critter took off and swam under the dock.

The monster temporarily left its dinner behind. You can see the tree did well and had several nice branches, now just nubbins. The white stick in the water is part of the tree. Its bark was all chewed off. White sticks littered the water all around. The bark must have tasted pretty good to the pig.

Mad at me, the creature circled his fallen prey telling me to get lost. At one time he smacked the pond with his tail to send a sound like a shotgun blast.

I got a couple of movies of the beast before darkness took over.

The next morning the remnant of the tree laid on the ground. Obviously he wasn't happy with part of his catch still hanging in the air. It must have taken quite an effort to yank the thicker than two inch trunk of the T-post stake. He even chewed more of the branches before his gut filled.

Well we heard coyotes howl and yap during the night, seen bear track, saw red foxes, fox squirrels, a bald eagle, dozens of turkeys. Now a four-foot long beaver.

Never a dull moment in Floyd County.

Only The Lord Knows

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During our trip to New Zealand earlier this year, we saw and witnessed many wonders of the world.

One of the more intriguing displays of nature was on a beach in the South Island. On the atlantic side, near earthquake prone Christchurch, NZ, were scattered these strange and eery boulders.

These boulders were not only round on top, but round all over. Like giant five foot marbles.

Someone suggested they were formed like pearls in an oyster. Give me a break! Were are these giant oysters?

You can tell they appear to be glued together, then rolled until round.

Several lay there ready to break apart, and some were broken.

Not only did they lay in the surf, but were also thrown up against the dunes.

This multi-ton monster looked like it was just flicked with someones finger after He got tired of playing with it.

I think I'll ask Al Gore about that one. . . .


They called the place:

Mysterious Phenomenon

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I have never seen or heard of anything like this.

It is like a mass suicide. Millions upon millions of gnats floating dead on our lake.

Almost the entire lake was covered in this strange looking scum. The dead gnats appeared suddenly.

This cloud on the water you see are all gnats.

My educated guess is, the gnats swarmed, formed a cloud, flew over the lake, got blasted by a downpour of rain and drowned in the water.

What is amazing, all that is in God's plan. Let me tell you why I think it is.

With millions of gnats floating on the surface of the lake, thousands of polliwogs, or tadpoles if you will, came to feed on them.

Naturally, as the polliwogs feasted, the fish in the lake feasted on them.

Quite a wonderful cycle of nature.

I feel sorry for folks who try to find peace in the ways of the world. I consider myself blessed by finding peace in the ways of the Lord. The Word states: "Be still and know that I am God."

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What Would You Like?

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The question, "What would you like?" is only relevant when there is an option.

Think about it. If there were no choices, you would not have to ask your precious child, "Would you like strawberry shortcake or some whip cream covered brownies?"

Or, "Would you like me to take you to Mary's house to have fun with her new video game? Or would you like me to call Hanna and we'll go to the mall together?"

"Would you like?" is never asked in countries were options are not offered. If a bowl of beans is ones meal of the day, there is no choice other than to eat it or not eat it.

In all my life, my mother never asked me, "What would you like?" She simply placed a plate of food and a glass of milk in front of me. Unless I was sick, I sat until I finished what she thought I should eat.

We never had clothes to choose from either. There were Sunday clothes and during the week clothes. We only went as a family to wherever the grown-ups took us. We went to bed when Mother said so. We were told where to go, what to do, and how long to stay at it.

Even after I had married and had children, Mother would be glad to see us, but always chose what she wanted to serve us. At one point my wife Carol was introduced to oatmeal soup. I remember it as a 1944 classic. Just a hot, water-based, runny oatmeal, seasoned with soy sauce.

How can you spoil a kid when he has no options? He simply grows up being governed by the authority of his parents. No problem listening to teachers either. Respect for the Police, and future employers.

This has nothing to do with encouraging the child, as it should be. Help it to develop a talent and good character.


We recently watched a Little League game. One of the team's player went to the dugout cooler and got a bottle of drinking water. He unscrewed the cap and proceeded to pour the entire bottle through his soft cap. He gleefully watched it run through and splatter to the dugout floor. A short while later, he retrieved another bottle full and poured it over one of the baseballs washing off the dirt. After the entire bottle again splattered onto the red clay dugout floor, he promptly bounced the clean ball into the red mud. (Is your dander up yet?)

The kid then whined to his mother in the stands and she came with a large bottle of Gator-aid for the darling boy. He opened the full bottle and took one small sip. I didn't see the large bottle again. Shortly after that, he stuck his lips through the chain-link dugout fence and hollered to his mother "I want nachos! I want some nachos. Maaaaam . . . Nachos.

At that point I decided that I needed to write about this.

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Catalytic Combustion

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I wrote a post on methane gas not long ago. Suggesting to trap methane and use as fuel in vehicles or even hot water heaters.

Canisters of natural gas are in use now. If the government would get out of the way, we'd have a much cleaner fuel to burn in our cars.

Human inventiveness is endless, especially when the going gets tough.

Inventors have tackled unburned smoke in wood stoves by recirculating the smoke. We have one of these stoves. It is amazing how the unburned smoke ignites the second time around. Sometimes the extra combustion raises the lid on the stove.

This theory was discovered long ago and put to use in the early 1940s when fuel for motor vehicles was nonexistent. How does one run a truck or bus then?

You build a vehicle that has a wood stove on board.

I've seen cars modified with their trunk lid removed and a stove place in the trunk.

As kid in the mid 40s, I had an opportunity to see a traveling colony of Lilliputians coming through our nearest train station, about 5 miles away. All us kids got a ride. I remember the man firing up a truck using the smoke from a pot bellied stove in the back. He stoked the fire, ran to the front of the truck and cranked the handle. Over and over he stoked and cranked. Finally the truck coughed and started to idle. We were on our way. See this story and many more in my book. 


What I didn't know until recently, is that Germany actually built buses with wood stoves built in. Check out the picture and the caption below.

Try the caption below.

Here is my translation:

Vornag-Generator-Omnibus
A motor craft vehicle during the times when motor fuel, (diesel and gasoline) was not available. -- Generated wood gas was used as combustable fuel during the war and early years following. -- Stove to generate wood gas on board. -- Vehicle built in 1941.

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2 plus 2 equals 4 . . . Maybe?

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I recently was at Liberty Lake Park in Bedford. Since I wore my dapper hat, three young folks, about twelve years old, thought I'd be a sucker to buy a raffle ticket.

Well, I've never bought a lottery ticket in my life, I did bend for their effort however, and bought one ticket for a local cause.

The ticket's cost was three dollars. I had only two singles on me and didn't want to challenge the kids to change a larger bill. So, I hollered to my son and had him cough up the additional dollar.

I held the three single dollar bills in front of the kid's noses. They had seen me bum a dollar from my son. I asked them a simple question:

I said, "What if I win, how would I split the $100 prize?"

Right off the tall boy simply said, "You split it in half."

I reiterated the point, holding two dollars in one hand, and just one dollar in the other, and said, "But I put in two dollars and he only put in one dollar."

Then the girl piped up and said, "You keep $75 and he gets $25."

I said, "Hey you guys, that is not fair to him he would only get one forth and me three forth."

Still holding the three dollars in front of them I said, "Shouldn't he get one-third and I keep two-thirds?"

"Yes," said the younger of the three, "he gets ten dollars and you get ninety."

"Yo, listen!" I said. "One third of a hundred is $33. So, how much should I get if I win?"

Duh . . . none of the three had a clue.

Could it be that I intimidated those freckle-faced kids with my dapper hat?

Hat or no hat, WHAT DO THEY TEACH THE KIDS NOWADAYS?

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