Ice Cream and Camp Maqua; It's Definitely Summer

The other day I met a bear, out in the woods, oh, way out there. And while I was out there, I saw that Alice the camel had five humps.

Are you on to me yet?

If you ever went to summer camp, chances are you recognize those words as songs you may have sung while eating your beans and weenies in the dining hall.

Nothing screams summer like the ice cream man, high utility bills and summer camp. I had a blast from my past last week during an afternoon of treasure hunt antiquing. I was quite taken aback when I came upon the exact same tin watering can I had as a child, same little girl motif, same rust.

I was even more stunned to find an old J.C. Higgins aluminum water cooler with the red top, just like the one my grandpa had back in Ohio so many years ago.

But the timing couldn't have been better when I came upon an army green foot locker like the one I used to pack for camp every summer.



There it was sitting on the floor in an antique shop on Central Avenue in Albuquerque, just like it used to lay at the end of the bunk bed in that cold cabin in the woods in upper Michigan. Of course, I had to open it to see if it had the same interior as my old one. Sure enough, it did.

Was I about to discover the wool blanket, mess kit, travel toothbrush and Cutter's bug spray next? All of a sudden, I could smell the mildew that would seep from the laundry bag that hung on the bunk next to my trunk.

It was getting to be too much, so I pressed on, trying to escape memories of cooking hobo stew over a modified Folgers coffee can, but it was no use. Camp Maqua was back.

Revelry blasted over the loud speakers at the crack of dawn, and that meant it was time for the "hoppers" in the cabin to get up to the dining hall and set the table for their cabin mates. The "apple polishers" stayed behind after the meals to clear the tables and clean up. All campers were up at the flag pole for the raising of the colors every morning before pancakes and sausage. Pranks were to be expected, like the time the horseback riding councilor's bra went up the flag pole with the flag.

Everyone's favorite class was the crafts class, of course. We were girls. My sister and I bestowed exquisite gifts upon my parents, including a Popsicle stick keepsake box with a blue marble handle, handmade sand candles and an endless supply of lanyard key chains.

The nightly ritual began when everyone gathered their soap, towels and toothbrushes and headed to the "brownie" to get ready for bed. Girls crowded around the communal circular sink known as the bird bath and stepped on the foot pedal to activate the fountain effect.

Ah, fifteen girls in their pink flowered bathrobes brushing their teeth together and wishing they were home in their clean clothes watching "The Partridge Family." A memory burned into my mind forever.

When the sound of taps came over the loud speaker, it was lights out. All the happy campers were worn out from their nature hikes and junior life saving classes and ready to go to sleep until a flash light flicks on and a voice begins, "It was a dark and stormy night ..."

Whether your campers are enjoying day camp, music camp, sleep-away camp or sports camp, it's what summer is all about. Just don't let your hoppers and apple polishers off the hook when they get back.

Quote of the Week: "Great green gobs of greasy grimy gopher guts, mutilated monkey meat, little birdies' dirty feet, all wrapped up in, pretty purple porpoise pus, and me without my spoon. But I've got my straw." — "Gopher Guts"

The Eagle Has Landed....

Remembering the First Awe-Inspiring Moonwalk

As appeared in the Albuquerque Journal Rio Rancho section 7/18/09

With the recent passing of Michael Jackson, the famous moonwalk has brought back memories from when he first performed the dance 27 years ago on the Motown 25th Anniversary show. But there is another moonwalk making an anniversary this week: the real moonwalk, performed by Neil Armstrong 40 years ago this Monday as it was broadcast on televisions around the world.

Where were you when you watched Armstrong's boot touch the lunar surface? I was sitting with my mother on our couch in the living room. I still remember to this day feeling so nervous for the astronauts wondering if they were going to sink into a quicksand-like surface or land safely on hard ground. But that's an 8-year-old girl for you; a mother in the making even then.

Landing on the moon made us one with the world and it was like magic. But watching the space geeks at Mission Control in Houston riding an emotional roller coaster had to have been one of the high points. These young baby boomers brought home the human element. When they looked worried, we were worried. When they threw their arms up in the air in victory, we cried.

"Apollo 11: The Untold Story," an article on www.popularmechanics.com, is filled with quotes from the young men who were part of history; sleepless news correspondents and operations engineers, flight directors and even astronauts themselves telling their personal tales of those historical days in the summer of '69.
Robert Sieck, spacecraft test and launch operations engineer, Kennedy Space Center said, "Since I was the backup engineer, I was not out at the Cape. I could watch the launch with my wife and my 1-year-old daughter. The highway was absolute gridlock, and the cars and trucks weren't trying to move. Everyone was there to watch history. The vendors were sold out of everything—no more T-shirts, caps, buttons or pins. People were pulling plugs of grass from the side of the road and stuffing them in Ziploc bags as souvenirs."

After a three-day coast from earth, Apollo 11 entered the moon's orbit and circled 11 times before attempting to land. Watching the lunar module get closer to touchdown and eaves dropping on Mission Control questioning the safety of landing was when everyone stopped breathing.

"Houston, Tranquility Base here. The Eagle has landed," Armstrong announces, breaking the tension in the control room as a controller tells the crew "You got a bunch of guys about to turn blue, we're breathing again."

Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin would spend two hours on the moon July 19, collecting souvenirs and leaving a few of their own; an American flag and a plaque that reads, "Here men from the planet Earth first set foot upon the moon. July 1969 A.D. We came in peace for all mankind." I would be fortunate enough to see two of the souvenirs in my lifetime: a moon rock at Chicago's Museum of Science and Industry and the actual space capsule at the National Air and Space Museum in Washington, D.C., Much smaller than I expected, I might add.

With less than 20 percent of its employees under the age of 40, NASA Office of Program Analysis and Evaluation calls the space agency "mono-generational," meaning it is composed almost entirely of members of the Baby Boomer generation. I think its time to reignite the spark of awe there once was in our space program and inspire a new generation to shoot for the stars.

Quote of the Week: "There is a photograph that shows splashdown inside the control room. There's a guy standing by the console with a huge piece of paper. That's me. I got the signatures of everybody in that room and in the back room. Every time I did that I would ask them their age. Well, I sat down and ran it out. The average age the night we had splashdown was 28." When Space Shuttle Atlantis left Earth on May 11, 2009, the average NASA civil servant's age was 47." H. David Reed, a flight dynamics officer during Apollo 11.

I had this Chuck Mangione album...right along side my KISS and Cheap Trick albums

Americans Are Suckers for Pitchmen With Accents

As seen in the Albuquerque Journal, Rio Rancho section 07/11/09

The phrase "Sell the sizzle, not the steak" is the old adage that the advertising industry creatives live by. Executives have been honing their skills for years trying to figure out what is going to make average consumers go out and spend their hard-earned dollar on something they didn't know they wanted until they were told they couldn't live without it. And one way to do it is to put a big personality out front to make the product sound like the answer to all your prayers, aka the pitchman.

How many young people out there bought their parents a ShamWow for Christmas last year? I know my youngest daughter wanted to buy me one, and my nephew actually did give my sister one. How could they help themselves, those poor innocent consumers? Watching a captivating commercial every half hour on the television and a slick salesman like Vince telling them they needed one for "the shower, the boat and the RV." Those kind-hearted, gift-giving urchins didn't stand a chance.

Pitchmen have been shouting at us since before television existed, but TV only gave them a bigger audience. Even Jack LaLanne, the exercise guru of the '60s, is hawking his Power Juicer, beauty products, belt buckles and T-shirts. I remember I used to watch Jack Lalanne on TV when I was young and home sick from school. I would turn on his exercise show (it was in black and white) and dunk my Oreos in my milk as he counted out the repetitions. He was persuasive in getting me to hold on to a chair and do leg lifts every now and then, but mostly I just waited to see if Happy, his white shepherd dog, would come onto the set. A Power Juicer? If Jack Lalanne says it's good, it has to be.

It was sad news to hear Billy Mays died recently. Everyone knows Billy Mays for OxiClean. Billy Mays for Orange Glo, Billy Mays for Kaboom. With a very recognizable presentation voice, you knew when his commercials came on without even seeing the screen. I have to admit, I couldn't take Billy Mays in the morning. He may have been very successful at his career, but that decibel is not acceptable before the noon hour.

What is it with Americans and the English accent? For some reason, we just attach authority to it no matter what the subject is. Take the other big pitchman out there, Anthony "Sully" Sullivan. You know him for products such as the Swivel Sweeper, the TapLight, the Smart Chopper, the One Sweep, the Natural Bra, the Jet Tan, the Slimming Pants, the Glass Wizard, the Laser Straight, the Westinghouse StickUp Bulb, the Grater Plater, the Point 'n Paint and the list goes on and on.

There have been many famous pitchmen over the years who have begged for your money. Dave Thomas, founder of the Wendy's fast food chain, was the pitchman for his own company. Remember Florence Henderson and her "Wesson-ality?"

Bill Cosby was one of my favorites. He used to pitch Jell-O brand pudding for years. I still have my Old Weird Harold plastic pudding cup in my cupboard from the '70s. I am sure my granddad saved countless box tops and sent away for it, just like he did my Tony the Tiger spoon; which is in my silverware drawer right now.

But wait, there's more! Remember John Cameron Swayze for Timex? How about Madge the manicurist for Palmolive dishwashing liquid — you're soaking in it.

As long as there is life on the planet, there will be pitchmen standing in line to sell you something you probably don't need. So don't get out that credit card too quickly, unless of course, he has an English accent.

Quote of the week: "I talked, I yelled, I hawked, and it worked! I was stuffing money into my pockets, more money than I had ever seen in my life." — Ron Popeil, maker of the Vegomatic.

Jack and Happy

We Could Be Doing Much More To Stop These DWIs

I am having a hard time keeping my composure and anger intact in respect to the recent accident by an alleged drunk driver who killed four children in Santa Fe.

It didn't matter that they were young and inexperienced drivers. They didn't stand a chance.

If the suspect was indeed drunk, consider it another in a long line of senseless crimes caused by selfish people who have no care or concern for anyone else in this world but themselves.

When I was 17, my girlfriend and I were hit head-on by a man driving the wrong way on a one-way street. The driver was leaving a bar in his late model Cadillac around 9:30 p.m. on a Friday night, and we had just left the ice cream shop in our sub-compact Dodge Colt. Upon breaking the windshield with my head, I suffered a concussion and broken jaw.

We were both banged up pretty badly, but lived. We were lucky.

Unfortunately, many of us know someone who has lost a loved one.

I have some friends who lost their daughter four years ago in another senseless accident. She was 18 years old, and the accident happened the night before she was to go away to college.

Their sadness, confusion and torture is easily seen on the pages of a Web site where her parents, friends and strangers leave little heartfelt messages to their deceased daughter, telling her how much they miss her, how she would have liked the recent trip to the beach, and how they are still trying to come to terms with losing their only daughter who meant the world to them, just like all of our children do.

The notes left by the girl's mother are the hardest to read as she tries to "move on," like she is advised. But as you read her messages, you can see that after four years it still feels like she lost her daughter last night. She sees the notes from her daughter's friends who have gone through college and are now graduating. Friends tell the girl about their marriages, their babies, their new careers in exciting fields — all things the girl's mom and dad had hoped for their daughter.

Too much heartache that in most cases is preventable.

What can we do? In recent years, several U.S. states (including Georgia, Illinois, Maryland, Missouri, New York, Virginia and Washington) have introduced legislation to combat drunken driving, including issuing unique colored license plates to designate drivers with criminal records for driving while intoxicated. Ohio issues bright yellow tags that contrast nicely on the road with their normally white tags.

Opponents of specialized drunk driver license plates bemoan the apparent stigma associated with having to wear the "scarlet letter." But isn't that the point? Since a fine and some jail time doesn't seem to discourage drunk drivers, it's time we upped the ante. It's time for a change.

According to data from the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration's report on motor vehicle deaths, the Fourth of July is the second-deadliest holiday to be on the road. An estimated 53 percent of fatal Fourth of July crashes involve at least one drunk driver.

The top five most dangerous holidays to be on the road are:
1. Thanksgiving
2. 4th of July
3. Memorial Day
4. Labor Day
5. New Year's Eve

Please be careful out there today and get home early tonight. Be responsible. Be a defensive driver. And let there be no drunk driving deaths to report tomorrow.

Quote of the Week: "Road sense is the offspring of courtesy and the parent of safety." — Australian Traffic Rule.