Peas and Mustard

Get it right people!
Tuna casserole takes cream of mushroom soup.
Tuna SALAD takes mayo or Miracle Whip.

And while we're at it,
tuna salad has celery,
NOT peas.
If you HAVE to use peas,
use a bag of frozen peas.
Canned peas are for tuna casserole,
not tuna salad.

Get it?
Got it?
Good.

As long as I'm on the subject
canned peas are the worst peas
AND the worst canned vegetable,
not that there are any good canned vegetables.

This morning
someone brought fresh snap peas
still in the pod for our snacks
and it is all I can do
not to take them all,
they are SO wonderful

I may have to write
an ode to peas
fresh from the garden
why not?
They've written songs
about homegrown tomatoes

Bottom line;
casseroles are comfort food,
THEY can be soggy

Salads should be light and uplifting,
they should be crisp.

Meanwhile,
I don't care
what you native Midwesterners think,
Jello and marshmallows
are for desert,
they do not constitute salad

Now that we've got that clear-
Thank you for using
just the right amount
of mustard
in the potato salad

Mustard is for both
color and flavor

But next time
back off a little
on the onions

A good rule of thumb
is to use sweet Vidalias
you don't want the onions
to overpower everything else

Chives are fine
just be careful
how many
and how strong

the onions are really more about texture
than flavor, in potato salad
green onions
are about
color and texture

you could always
try red onions
but that's a whole different color
and then
you REALLY
need to be careful
about how much
and how strong

But definitely don't skimp
on the mustard
sour cream may seem
all fancy schmancy
and sugar is sweet
but nobody wants
their potato salad
too be too sweet
or too schmancy

I really can't overstate
that you really can't
over use
mustard
in the
potato salad

But for God's sake
back off of the damn peas
in the tuna salad

Send me your News tips!

It's that time of year again. I'm talking with Brad Swenson, the Publisher of the Mapleton PRESS about how I can help as a community correspondent for the Charter Oak and Ricketts areas. You can help. Have you got any ideas for feature stories or personality interviews? Have you got an even on your calendar that you'd like me to cover or at least get some pictures of? Please send me an email and let me know ted.mallory-at-gmail.com

Remember that Charter Oak Achievement Days are coming up July 12-15. The PRESS is planning on runing their annual special edition July 23. Why not show your support by advertising in the Achievement Days Edition? Give me a call, or call the PRESS office and reserve your space today!

Brad tells me that they've got Joleen Schultz signed on to help cover our area too- especially once I go back to school next Fall. When in doubt, call Michelle Kane at the office in Mapleton :

Phone 712-881-1101
Fax 712 881 1330
mpress@longlines.com

Sweet Corn Salsa

Category:

Appetizers & Snacks

Ingredients:
1 c corn kernels, cooked
1 ripe papaya, peeled, seeded and cut into 1/4 dice
1/3 c diced red onion
2 ripe diced tomatoes,
1 1/2 ts minced garlic
1 tb grated lime zest
1/4 c Lime juice
1/3 c Chopped cilantro

Directions:
Any salsa is best when served fresh. If it isn’t convenient to make the salsa just before serving time, prepare and refrigerate all your ingredients ahead of time and toss together 15 minutes before serving. In a large bowl, combine all ingredients except cilantro. Toss together. Refrigerate, covered, for up to 2 hours. Just before serving, toss with cilantro.

Labor Day is a lot of hard work

NOTE: This cartoon didn't run in the PRESS. I don't know what the issue was, room, time, lost the file, or editorial prerogative- but in hind sight I think it may be a little over the edge. Not because it accuses Southerners of being sexist or racist, or because it uses the word "colored," but because cartoons usually accuse politicians of things, this one accuses you the reader. So if you feel accused of liking Fred Thompson because he's a male, white, protestant, conservative- sorry, but do examine your own heart and remember, "walks like a duck, quacks like a duck..."

The Mapleton PRESS Thursday, September 13, 2007

My wife even prepared me for sleeping in a summer camp cabin with 12 other people at a family reunion by making sure that I brought some throat spray and “breath-right” strips for my nose so that no one would be kept awake by my snoring.

So it seemed like our eight year old was going to be the one who snored. I was having trouble sleeping and could hear her having trouble breathing. Everyone else had just nodded off around eleven, after several efforts at getting out two-year old settled. When she was five, we had Grace’s tonsils and adenoids out so that she’d get less congested. It hadn’t seemed to help that night.

I could hear the poor kid coughing and got up to grab some toilet paper to have her blow her nose. It was too late. When I got back from the bathroom, she was standing next to my wife’s bunk, asking permission to throw up. Who asks permission for that?

I ushered her in the dark to the restroom and she almost made it. I tried my best to console her and clean up after her without waking everyone else up, but to no avail. Her five year old sister and ten year old cousin were quite vocal about their distress over the odor, so the cabin door had to open and over head light had to come on.

Eventually I finished with Grace and the adults got the cousins to calm down and go back to sleep.

My mother-in-law objected to my leaving the bathroom light on, even with the door almost closed, but I understand the need for dark to help you sleep.

That’s when our two year old woke up. Sort of. We think she may have been in some kind of semi-conscious dream state, because she kept asking for her mother, who was already holding her.

Two year olds are notorious for being afraid of the dark and anxious in strange places. My wife and I and my mother-in-law all took turns trying to console the toddler, but to no avail. She was so distraught that her cries became coughs and- you guessed it, more vomit.

Two year olds are also notorious for not making it to the bathroom. After another round of cleaning up, my wife eventually resorted to taking the child out to our van to sleep in her car seat. Mosquitoes not withstanding, that was probably about as good as they could do.

Sunday afternoon we were all packed up and ready to head home after the big church service, business meeting and pot-luck. But, as will happen, we couldn’t find the two year old. I was searching the lodge inside while my wife searched outside. Finally, our daughter responded to my calling her name. She was in the lady’s room. I knocked on the door-frame and announced “man on the floor,” hoping she’d be the only female in there. Sure enough she was, and she was busy.

“I’m changing my poopy pants,” she explained. Part of me was almost proud, we’re finally getting somewhere with potty training. I say PART of me was proud. Pants at half-mast meant poop was everywhere.

I grabbed my wife. She’s clean up the child if I’d run to the van to get wipes and new clothes (sometimes it’s good to be a man- except for the guilt). Well, one of the dozens of second and third cousins happened to bring her two-year old into the bathroom right about that time. This second toddler was so overcome by the aroma of our child, that, you guessed it, she vomited. So now these two poor women are sharing the joy of cleaning up after both of their kids. Now, I was just outside, waiting patiently, providing distant moral support, so I didn’t witness this, but, as I warned, this was a classic situation…

I’m very proud of what a strong woman my wife is. She’s been through a lot and she can maintain her composure in almost any situation, far better than me. She had to be able to in this instance, because the other mother was so overcome by her daughter’s vomit, that she lost her lunch too.

Ted Mallory lives in Charter Oak and teaches at Boyer Valley Schools in Dunlap. 'Ted's Column' has appeared weekly in the Charter Oak-Ute NEWSpaper since 2002. You can see all of Ted's cartoons at http://tmal.multiply.com

Corny Concerto

Note; It really tans my hide when people whine about the "Liberal Media." Duh, how about the Corporate-tool media, as in NBC=GE, CBS=ViaCom, ABC=Disney. Or how about the COMMERCIAL media, as in selling something and making money- hello? THAT's what all TV news is, selling us exactly what we want- and guess what? "The customer is always right." Oh, except of course, FOX News, which of course is SO fair and SO balanced (and NOT Republican propaganda in any way shape or form at all, NOOO.)

Charter Oak-Ute NEWSpaper — Schleswig Leader,
Thursday, July 26, 2007 – Page 3

It is that time of year. The symphony of summer is reaching a pitched crescendo.
July reached it’s unbearable hottest and at last evening thunderstorms broke loose. The fireflies have mysteriously faded away and the cicadas have conspicuously replaced them.
Kids are actually beginning to become weary of their constant sunburns, mosquito bites, and scuffed knees and elbows, some are even getting a tiny bit bored with their routines of late nights and late mornings, bike rides, pools and freedom.

Yet there is the shadow of a gathering cloud on their horizon. The bitter dull anxiety that another school year is encroaching on their worlds. They look forward to seeing so many of their friends again and changing their routines, yet they dread the homework and responsibilities and pressures.

Neighbors are laying their offerings of squash, zucchini, and rhubarb on the altar of friendship (and unloading their surplus on all the stoops and porches around town).

The beans are at their deepest, darkest greens so that if you’re on a road between two fields you feel like you’re adrift in a sea.

The corn has tasselled-out. It’s like the zenith in the grand finale of a fireworks show.
The melodic postlude of the home grown tomatoes is still a few weeks off, but right now is that crescendo, the fever pitched sweetness of perhaps God’s greatest gift to Iowa, her crowning glory- the harvest of the sweet corn.

Many an amateur theologian has postulated that wine and beer and chocolate are proofs of His love, but none are quite as generous, like a grandparent offering a child candy, as sweet corn.

My friends and family in far flung places like Arizona and California just don’t get it. Only Midwesterners- rural and small town Midwesterners have a true appreciation of this gift.
Like the best blessings, it is appreciated more if it is preceded by adversity.

I don’t know how many years I have whined about July weather in Iowa. Too hot, too humid, too buggy, together that’s too miserable. Ever the optimist, my Farmer-in-Law would remind me that it’s bad for people and livestock, but wonder full for the corn.

This may be theologically incorrect, but isn’t there a song that says “you gotta go through Hell before ya get to Heaven?”

Bushels of sweet corn are given to friends and neighbors and pastors. Truckloads are sold at farmer’s markets and on roadsides, but some of the sweetest sweet corn are the arm fulls you help pick and prepare.

I always offer up a prayer for the veterans of Vietnam when I trudge through the jungle, enduring heat and insects and the itch and cuts and scratches and sweat.

The field corn a few more rows in stands almost twice as tall as the sweet corn, but we had to keep bending over to pick ears. I suppose since it’s been so dry the corn hasn’t got the energy to suck water up from way down in May to reach the kernels.

Eleven months of the year corn is a side dish or an ingredient. In Iowa in July, corn is the main dish. Often the only item on the menu and that’s fine because it is so sweet, so creamy, and fresh and so spectacular that it constitutes appetizer, main course, side dish, and desert.
Butter, salt and pepper, plenty of napkins, toothpicks, and maybe a broom are all the accompaniment that are needed for this culinary concert.

Here are a few recipes if you actually get tired of eating it off the cob. You can use these later in the year with the corn you "can" too;

Sweet Corn Chowder

2 strips raw bacon -- diced
1/2 sweet onion -- diced
1/2 c red pepper -- diced
2 c sweet corn cut from cob
3 tbsp fl our
3 c chicken or veg. stock
1 c russet potatoes -- diced
1 c heavy cream
1 tbsp chopped parsley
salt and pepper -- to taste

Cook bacon over medium-high heat in a large sauce pan
until crisp; add onions, peppers, and Florida sweet corn and
stir for approximately two minutes; add fl our and stir for one
minute; andd stock and stir until smooth, birng to a boil, add
potatoes and simmer for 15-20 minutes to desired consistency;
add cream and simmer 2 more minutes. Season with fresh
parsley, salt and pepper.

Brown Rice & Sweet Corn Salad

1 lb Brown rice, cooked
1/2 lb Sweet corn, cooked
1/2 c chopped onion
1/2 c diced red pepper
1/2 c diced green pepper
2 lg Firm guavas, diced
(or try kiwis or tart apples)
4 T Vegetable oil

Heat the oil in a large wok or pan and saute the onion until
translucent. Add the diced green and red peppers and saute
until tender. Reduce the heat and stir in the corn, rice, and
fi nally the guava. Remove from heat and season to taste. Chill
in the refrigerator and stir again before serving. For a fl avor
accent, you may toss in a vinaigrette dressing.

Festival Sweet Corn Salsa

1 c corn kernels, cooked
1 ripe papaya, peeled, seeded and cut into 1/4 dice
1/3 c diced red onion
2 ripe diced tomatoes,
1 1/2 ts minced garlic
1 tb grated lime zest
1/4 c Lime juice
1/3 c Chopped cilantro

Any salsa is best when served fresh. If it isn’t convenient to make the salsa just before serving time, prepare and refrigerate all your ingredients ahead of time and toss together 15 minutes before serving. In a large bowl, combine all ingredients except cilantro. Toss together. Refrigerate, covered, for up to 2 hours. Just before serving, toss with cilantro.

Holy cow; adventures in agricultural photography

Charter Oak-Ute NEWSpaper — Schleswig Leader, Thursday, July, 19, 2007 – Page 3

It’s not always easy to get pictures of kids and their animals. The critters generally aren’t good posers. They kick up dust that catches the flash and shows up in the picture as mysterious glowing orbs. Inevitably pictures can be blurry, eyes are closed or beasts are baring their worst sides.

The first year I covered the livestock shows at Achievement Days I struggled to get the best possible shot of the kid’s face. Being born in a city I didn’t know any better. After the NEWSpaper came out, my farm native wife explained to me that the whole point of a livestock show is the livestock. Live and learn.

In order to guarantee the best possible shot, I usually keep the subjects there for an eternity so that I can take at least three pictures in hopes of getting at least one that will turn out.
This year I kept one young lady even longer and took four, just to be on the safe side.
There was this group of boys sitting on the gate behind the show ring. They were giving the presenter a hard time, urging her to ask me to take yet another picture.

I recognized at least one of them from Boyer Valley where I teach. These are the kind of middle school kids who wear their boots to school even on field day and wear Carhart jeans even when everyone else in school have on shorts because it’s 100°.

They don’t walk they saunter and from the way they speak you’d guess they were from Oklahoma, Arkansas or Texas, you’d never guess that they’re Iowa born and bred.

“He won’t care, he’s-” something something. I wasn’t sure what they said to the girl but I was sure it was about me. I didn’t know what the problem was but I knew these ornery eighth graders were lucky I wasn’t going to see them in school on Monday because it was summer.

Of course, eventually when I was processing the night’s pictures on the computer I realized that they weren’t just giving me or the girl a hard time. As it turned out the Heifer was relieving itself in all but the last photo.

Later that same night, my Iowa native wife had another nugget of wisdom for me; don’t wear a red shirt and get into a ring full of cattle. Incidentally, our mascot at my high school, Shadow Mountain back in Phoenix was the Matador. I however don’t enjoy being charged by animals that weigh over half a ton.

Now as a photographer I’ve been hit by basketballs, volleyballs, referees, and have even had a couple of near-misses with football players. But I have a real respect for these kids in 4-H and FFA who look like they should have separated shoulders the way their cows and steer pull them around.

At that moment when two black beasts tried to start a mini stampede I was frozen. What I should’ve been thinking was “now’s a good time to jump over this fence next to me.”
The over-riding impulse of a really GOOD photographer would have been “now’s a good time to take a picture, what a great action shot.”

I’d like to say that either of these thoughts came into my mind at the crucial moment. Heck, I’d like to say that I was thinking either “boy, I hope one of these Dads and 4-H leaders who make their livings handling these creatures everyday can step in and get control of them before any of these kids or I get hurt.” They did of course, (in fact I think that they probably never got closer than five feet to me, but that’s not what I was thinking.

As a matter of fact, I can’t tell you what I was thinking because this is a wholesome family newspaper.

I can only tell that there was plenty of it around in the show ring and all the holding pens.

Dan the man Kuhlmann cleaning up my thoughts. Say, that "honey wagon" reminds me of an old joke. Seems like William Jennings Bryant was campaigning once and a crowd was so big that he had to climb up on a farmer's manure spreader so that people could see and hear him. He started off "This has to be the first time that a Democratic candidate has given a speech from a Republican platform."

COU FFA teacher Lee Stence just misses an interview with a champion market steer and his pet boy. "Mooooo"

Here's a couple of great recipes to getya ready for the Iowa State Fair:

Iowa Beef Sundae
1 package (17 ounces) refrigerated fully-cooked beef tips with gravy ( can substitute left over pot roast or browned hamburger)
1 package (24 ounces) refrigerated mashed potatoes

Toppings: Shredded cheddar cheese, dairy sour cream, cherry or grape tomatoes
Heat beef tips with gravy according to package directions. Heat mashed potatoes according to package directions. Using ice cream scoop, place 2 scoops (about 1/3 cup each) mashed potatoes in each of 4 individual sundae cups or serving bowls. Divide beef tips evenly over potatoes in each dish. Sprinkle with cheese and top with dollop of sour cream, as desired. Place 1 tomato in center of each serving for a “cherry.”

Pork chop-on-a-stick
8 6-ounce boneless pork loin chops, about 1 inch thick
1/2 cup bottled Italian dressing
Peanut oil
8 8 x 1/4-inch-thick wooden skewers or dowels
Honey mustard or BBQ sauce

Place chops in a resealable plastic bag set in a shallow dish. Pour salad dressing over chops.; seal bag. Marinate in the refrigerator for 1 hour, turning bag occasionally. Preheat oil to 350° F. Drain chops, discarding marinade. Insert a wooden skewer into a short side of each chop. Fry the chops, half at a time, for 5 to 8 minutes or until 160° F. Maintain oil temperature around 350° F. Remove chops from hot oil and drain on wire racks. Serve chops with honey mustard.

Vacations are a lot of work

Charter Oak-Ute NEWSpaper — Schleswig Leader, Thursday, June, 28, 2007 – Page 3

Why is it you can never just get up in the morning and leave on a vacation?

It seems like my wife started packing a week ahead of time for our sojourn down to Phoenix earlier this month. I swear we even started loading the van a day before.

So finally the designated hour of departure had nearly arrived when our two youngest daughters came into the house crying.

"What happened now?" I asked incredulously.

"Annamarie was hanging on the mirror in the van and and (hyperventilating) she broke it and and (sniffle, whine) and it fell down and hit me in the head," reported Ellen, the middle child, "and and it hurts."

Perhaps she was hoping for tender arms and comfort, or perhaps for justice to be dispensed upon her younger tormentor, but instead she faced only the Inquisition-

"What were you doing playing out in the van? (first question) How many times have I told you to stay out of the van? (second question in this particular barrage- but the umpteenth time that day) Can't you just play outside (without getting dirty) or inside- anywhere but in the van? (that's at least 2, but could count as 3 questions) What were you thinking?"

"But, but ANNA wanted to play house in the van," she protested.

"SO? (I'm not sure if that counts as a question or not) You're older, why didn't you stop her? Why didn't you come get me? You know we're trying to get ready for the trip, why can't you listen? Why can't you follow directions? (technically these are the same question so it should only count as one.) Why was it so important to play in there? (obviously this was a rhetorical question thrown in for emphasis, but I think it counts anyway- so what is that now 12?)"

Fortunately she just pouted and muttered sorry instead of breaking down into tears because no longer had I finished the interrogation than I was beating myself up for sounding like such a typical over reactive parent hypertensive about preparation for vacation. Exhale.

So I proceeded to retrieve the two year old from the driver's seat and scolded her (much more briefly) and then retrieved the rear view mirror from the dash and called Jepsen's Repair to ask about gluing it back on so we could still leave that same day.

Eventually, we not only had out 5 million bags, cases, and parcels, toys, pillows, and audio-visual materials, loaded efficiently, but all 5 family members loaded and strapped in as well. Ready to go. "WAIT- everybody take one last potty break before we go." Everyone got out and ran back inside to use the restroom and then got reloaded and re-strapped. Four o'clock in the goll-darned afternoon.

I put the key in the ignition and started her up. Lo and behold, Annamarie had been back in the van since the mirror had been fixed. How do I know? Because the wipers came on, along with the heater on full blast, the turn signal, and the radio on full volume to a station I never listen to.

A helluva way to run an army, but at least we were finally off and running.

Whoops- almost 2 miles outside of town... we had to turn around and go back home because we'd forgotten Annamarie's blankie. Couldn't spend the night in a strange place without the two-year-old's security blanket.

At that point we were resigned that we probably wouldn't make it past Lincoln. We had found a terrific coupon on the Internet for a hotel in Lincoln. Unfortunately, we don't have a computer printer at home. No problem, no problem- we'll just stop quick at my classroom in Dunlap and print it there, back on the road in a jiffy.

Scientifically speaking, a "jiffy" is a unit of time measuring precisely 0.01 of a second. Twenty minutes later, my wife had started a DVD for the girls and was knocking on my classroom window, trying to figure out what was taking me so long. While I write this, I don't recollect it clearly, but I know it was technical- finding the right website, navigating the stupid website to the right state, city, hotel chain and coupon offer- and then getting the dang thing to print.

Pay dirt! Finally, we were on our way. Again. This put us in Omaha at the peak of rush hour. By the time we were just East of Lincoln, the kids were asleep (or at least docile) so we decided to press on. The further we could go that night, the better. So much for all that time and effort to get that coupon.

It's okay, we had another coupon in one of those tourist pamphlets for a hotel in Grand Island. Of course, at this point everyone was awake, hungry, tired, and crabby. And the youngest three were starting to get on each other's nerves- and therefore on their parent's.

We pulled into the hotel and what do ya know? The pamphlet people had made a misprint and the hotel refused to honor the coupon.

Thus we pushed on. I don't remember what little town was next, Hastings? It just seems like we were in the middle of nowhere when we pulled off for the next hotel for which we had a coupon.

As soon as we entered the parking lot, Ellen asked us, "Mom, why is our hotel next to a junkyard?"

It was more of a deteriorating trailer park, but it certainly was unsavory and at that point, in the dwindling light of twilight, that was enough for us to just keep on driving.

Finally we gave up and settled on a motel in Kearney that was much too expensive for the caliber of accommodations, but from the outside it looked safer than the last one.

So with two beds and five family members we had to figure out who was going to have to sleep with who. In a perfect world, the tree children could be together in one bed and the parents in the other. Just in case you were wondering, there is no perfect world.

I thought that since Grace, the oldest is the most patient (let alone sedate) and shares her room at home with Annamarie, they could sleep together and they may as well be with their mom. I figured that I'd be generous to her since Ellen is the worst sleeper of the three and most likely to toss, turn, and flop around.

This had Ellen seeing red.

"I don't want to sleep with Daddy!"

"Why not? What's the big deal?"

"He snores and his breath stinks!"

Maybe for other people, a perfect world would have had me in a separate room. Come to think of it, as long as it took to get the three of them to settle down and go to sleep, that may have been the perfect world for me.

And there was evening, and there was morning—the first day.

See ya next year

That's me taking a picture of a painting student's Jackson Pollack-esque abstract expressionist painting. Kind of a cool abstract, reflection shot, huh?

Lets make Bob Costas wear a John Deere Cap

One of the worst parts of coaching a predominantly women’s sport like cheerleading is having to overhear the girl talk.

“Omigawd, did you watch the Olympics last night?”

“Omigawd- Michael Phelps is SO HOT.”

“He’s like 6’4” and only like 150 pounds.”

“And his like, what do you call that? Arm span is like two feet longer than normal, or than it’s supposed to be.”

“Really? Wow. Did you know he has like size fourteen shoes?”

“Like NO WAY, Omigawd.”

I guess it’s to be expected and I just have to listen, the Olympics will be over in another few days anyway. After all, I have to admit, the summer before Freshman year of High School, I was head over heels for Mary Lou Retton. Sure, the red white and blue gymnastics leotards looked great on her, but I think it was mostly about the smile.

It’s surreal to see her interviewed today. She’s a mom who’s a spokesperson for pro-family Christian things like internet filters and stuff. You wouldn’t think of Wonder Woman or Supergirl or Cat Woman hauling her three kids around to school in a minivan twenty years after you first fell in love with them.

But that’s an important thing to remember about athletes and any celebrities for that matter, (especially politicians and preacher) they’re human beings. People just like you and me.

Well, Okay, not QUITE like us. Have you watched Olympic gymnastics lately? It’s phenomenal that any human being can do any of the things these kids do. That’s discipline, that’s pushing their bodies and the laws of physics to the limit.

But why do the men all look like college-aged, well, “men,” but all the women gymnasts look like 11 or 12 year old girls even though they’re supposedly anywhere from 16-23? Do they take anti-steroids? Is there something about the feats they’re performing that alters the physiology of guys and girls differently?

The Ancient Greeks used the original Olympics to showcase the beauty of the “perfect” human physiques. Today’s athletes are more like evolutionary mutants. Really, something must be up. You can’t tell me that male swimmers were 6’4” with over-long arms just 8 or 14 years ago.

American shot putters Adam Nelson and John Gadina look more like people you’d know, but only because they didn’t shave for their interviews on NBC. Their necks have to be thirty inches around. I can see that having to do with the nature of their sport, but I’ve see steroids do that too.

Not all Olympians are so different than the rest of us. I guess that shooters and archers don’t need performance enhancing drugs. That’s about it. I’m not sure why they have to build white-water coursed for canoes. Does Greece not have rivers? And how are badminton and synchronized diving Olympic sports?

19 year old Mariel Zagunis won America a gold in saber fencing. There’s a sport I’d like to take up. I’d like to see more And Javelin throwing- who does that anymore? Olympic sports that are more common to common people. Like men’s or co-ed softball. Or bowling. Why isn’t bowling an Olympic sport? Or golf, walking- how about walking? Darts, darts would be cool. I bet my brother and one of my wife’s cousins could be Olympic class dart-throwers. What about fishing? They have sailing and kayaking, why not fishing.

Of course, what the Olympic planning committee really needs to think about is NASCAR. No, we’re not all Bobbi Labonte, but we all drive cars. Wouldn’t it be cool to watch people excel at activities that we all do anyway? Although, I’d hate for America to only get bronze or silver in NASCAR.

Lets face it, we get carried away with ourselves sometimes. Take the U.S. Basketball team. All over paid NBA spotlight hogs. Not working on fundamentals, not working selflessly as a team-unit, un-coachable, spoiled millionaires. That’s why the Olympics used on only allow amateurs. But in our day and age of sport-drinks, designer shoes and clothes there are no amateurs anyway. I think it was the 1988 Olympics when Nike paid American diver thousands of dollars to sling a pair of shoes over his shoulder while cameras snapped. Did anybody notice that divers, like swimmers complete barefoot?

I think we should host the 2008 Olympics here in Iowa. There could be an Olympic tractor pull. Speed corn-husking could be introduced. Hog throwing has got to be as difficult as the discuss throw (not that I’d know personally, I admit). Think of the money. If RAGBRI participants enjoy fresh sweet corn and tomatoes?

At the risk of blowing my own horn, I think I could be a real contender in the coffee-drinking event. What we really need is an Olympic euchre tournament. And it we really wanted to have some fun with the foreigners, we could try to talk the Olympic Committee into a cow-tipping event.

Late Summer Loose Ends

School was supposed to start this past week for Boyer Valley, I think that Charter Oak-Ute resumes this next week, Maple Valley has postponed school until September. If you hadn’t heard, both BV and MV built new facilities this summer and they’re both having some trouble getting everything finished and ready to go for the new school year.

Usually, most teachers like to get into their room and do some planning in the weeks before school. Needless to say, that hasn’t been happening for many of us and it’s led to a feeling of being unsettled. So this week I’d like to tie up a few loose-ends that have been bothering me. Consider this my way of trying to accomplish some sense of closure.

Way -back in the Fourth of July column, a few of you may have been confused. Which is a shame, because several people shared with me how much they appreciated what it said. I signed the column “R. Saunders.” People have been asking me who that is and what that meant.

Richard Saunders was Benjamin Franklin’s pen name. As in “Poor Richard’s Almanac,” Franklin’s famous periodical that was full of homespun humor and sage advice. The thirteen virtues that I had Saunders expound upon were Franklins- perhaps one for each of the original thirteen colonies. I thought they’d be especially poignant for the Fourth, considering the polarized political rancor that seems so prevalent lately which the Presidential election has seemed to exacerbate.

I made two mistakes in my column praising the Charter Oak Achievement Days. I reported that one of the Welner brothers had told me about the Methodist food stand. It was actually Loren Straight who put me on to how old the portable building was. Sorry about that. Having been married into the town 13 years ago and now living here for five, I still can’t put the right name with the right face. I also said something about the new shelter house being air-conditioned. Someone since then told me that that’s not the case. I guess I’m not sure either way, I hope my saying that it would be didn’t make any difference.

I finished ‘Catcher in the Rye.’ I figured out what the title means, it doesn’t have anything to do with baseball. It has something to do with that old song, “when a body meets a body coming through the rye” and trying to save people who are lost in life. You really have to read it for it to make more sense and to do it justice. I highly recommend it.

John Grisham’s ‘the Bleachers’ is also well worth the read, even if you don’t like football. If you’ve ever played football, you’ll regret not reading it. Haven’t got my hands on ‘Home Grown Democrat’ yet, I may wait till it comes out in paperback.

I’m not sure why I haven’t been in the mood to write about politics lately. Probably because it looks like any one who’d bother voting has pretty well made up their minds and aren’t too open to changing it. And I for one am sick of the mud slinging and the anger. It’s not worth getting myself worked up and I hate having other people angry at me or thinking I’m somehow inferior to them or crazy or something.

I have to get one political issue off my chest quick. A Bush supporter recently reasoned that it’s not wise to change Presidents in the middle of a war. That just confuses me because if they’re talking about “The War on Terror,” that was being waged even before it was declared and it will probably be a reality that we have to live with for decades to come. If we declare Marshall Law or suspend elections, then the terrorists win. If they’re talking about the war in Iraq, it seems to me that the President announce “mission accomplished back in March and Sovereignty was transferred at the end of May, a day or two ahead of schedule. So isn’t that war over? Or did I miss a memo?

Please forgive me if that made you angry or if you think I must be crazy or ignorant or something for being as confused as I am. Don’t forget to vote November 2, even if it’s not for who I’d like. If don’t exercise our rights, the Terrorists win. Democracy is like muscle- “use it or lose is.”

Sadly, I have to report that Noah’s Ark has been dry-docked. We really needed around 12 kids. 6 three year olds and 6 four year olds. We had commitments from about 7 but would’ve needed to combine the ages, which would very be difficult. One of the big appeals of the new public preschool is the convenience for working parents of running all day. For Noah’s Ark to have done that involved new and different licenses which would’ve taken more time and raised costs. It was a difficult decision, but eventually, we had to give up the dream.

It’s a sad loss for the community and a shame that St. John couldn’t sustain such a blessing of a ministry to young families, but life happens and the only constants are God, death and taxes, so we grieve and move on. We’re sorry to those of you who were looking forward to Noah’s Ark continuing.

I’m not sure my daughter Ellie grasps what it means for her yet. As far as she’s concerned, she’s going to ride the buss to high school next week She doesn’t turn three till December, so we’re not going to put her on a bus for a while. I’d still like her to get that Christian foundation, so maybe we’ll look into St. Matthew’s preschool in Mapleton next year.

Kids still say the darnedest things. The other night over supper, Ellie announced-

“Mom, Dad…”

“Yeah, hon?”

“Mom, Dad, Gwacie…”

“What is it, sweetheart?”

“Mom, Dawd, Gwacie…I have to tell you something…”

So we set our forks down, anxiously awaiting her important announcement.

“I have to tell you somtin’, um, Mom, Dad…”

I thought that what ever it was had to be important or profound because she was working so hard to get it out.

“Mom, Dad, Grace…We eatin’ supper.”

Yep, she may be under the delusion that she’s fourteen, and she may still be pretty hit-and-miss with the potty training thing, but at least she has a firm grasp on the obvious.