The humble Farmer at Bowdoin College, January 31, 2003
Thank you for visiting this page of Rants.
Below are the rants from The humble Farmer
radio show for the week of
April 1 - 7, 2007
+
Rants April 1, 2007
+
1. From time to time one of our nice neighbors stops by to exchange family news with my wife Marsha. This morning the topic of conversation was our neighbor’s little grandson who will soon be three. She mentioned that she bought him a little duck that goes, “Quack quack quack.” This is good. It will prepare him for marriage.
+
2. My friend Doris is 92. Doris has not only lived 92 years, Doris is also smart. So Doris has had 92 years to perfect the art of doing things right. Doris knows that you don’t just jump into things. If you do exercises, you also know the importance of warming up. If I were to grab even a tiny weight and try to lift it without warming up, I could hurt a muscle. Chester Bush used to warm up his chops on his tuba for an hour every morning --- just blowing long, low tones, before he’d ever play anything. Musicians as well as athletes know the importance of warming up. You can probably think of other things you do that require a warm up. But --- not until I had studied Doris closely did I realize that she doesn’t just jump into an afternoon nap. She very carefully prepares for her nap. She warms up for her nap by resting.
+
3. For the past 25 years I have tried to write a book. It would be more honest to say that 25 years ago I had enough good newspaper columns to publish in a book. Every other year since then I have produced enough funny newspaper columns or commentary for my tv and radio for the past 25 years to make another book. But every time I say to myself that I am finally going to collect the stories that I think are best and make a book, something keeps it from happening. I can never figure out how to find a printer and I wouldn’t know how to conduct business with a printer if I did. But last week my wife Marsha spent a quarter on a book of stories by Andy Rooney. I like the format of Andy Rooney’s book. I like the way the book is laid out. I plan to steal that format, cut out all of Andy Rooney’s stories, and paste my stories back in. Because I have several versions of my book in chapter form wasting away in my computer, I should be able to complete this cut and past operation in two weeks. And that will finally give me a book. Of course, then I’ll probably be right back where I started because I have no idea of how to find a printer.
+
4. You know people who are good story tellers. They’re fun to listen to. I can rattle off the names of 6 or 8 of excellent storytellers, because back when I used to have to write a newspaper column once a week and had nothing to say, I’d go see one of them. Eddie Tyler is a good story teller. I have heard Ed Tyler speak before a group and can tell you that he knows what's going on. I was on my third glass of punch when Eddie came over and said, "For years I was the supply man down at Marine Colloids. Anybody needed something, they came to see me. I had the reputation for being tight. I didn't give everyone what they asked for unless they had a good reason for needing it. "One day someone came in and said, 'Ed, someone stole my stapler.' "And I said, 'You're a grown man. Don't come in here and bother me with things like that. You should be able to figure out what to do.' "This fellow left nodding eagerly. "The next day when I came to work, my stapler was gone."
+
5. My topic is optimism and how it can help you live to a ripe old age, so please give me a little more than your usual full attention. Optimism, that is, a positive outlook on life, might have as much to do with living a long and happy life as not smoking or good genes in general. I don’t know that this is so, but I tell you this that you might think about it and decide for yourself. Everett Baum once said something about being happy and having a good time. When Everett was over 90 as I recall he used to come to my lobster picnic with his wife and sit there watching the entertainment for five or six hours without getting out of the padded chair I had there for him. Wish I could remember what it was Everett said about being positive about things and how it is good to always laugh and have a good time. Anyway --- this came to mind today when my friend Doris spoke to her neighbor Mel about tuning her piano. Mel allowed as how he was pretty drove up for the foreseeable future, but Mel promised that he’d get at it if Doris wouldn’t mind waiting until next year. Next year Doris will be 93. Mel will be 96.
+
6. You probably remember when I used to invite you, and a countless number of people, to my backyard for a free lobster picnic. When you got to my house there were radio friends out there at the edge of my driveway who helped you and hundreds of other people park your car, just like you see at the Common Ground Fair. There was a big tent over a big stage where the top entertainers in New England did their thing for 5 or 6 hours. Entertainers got 20 minutes and no setup time. Roan Buck cooked hundreds of lobsters and three or four grills poured forth chicken, hot dogs and hamburgers. Thanks to the help from the 50 or so radio friends who actually ran the whole thing, it was a slick, well managed affair. My wife, Marsha, who could see no economic benefit in having a lot of friends, hated this picnic with all her heart and soul, said it was costing us too much money and forced me to end it. But --- years later people would come up to me and tell me that they had been invited. They had never come because they thought that all this hoopla about getting a free lobster at humble’s house was a hoax and a fraud. This annual free lobster picnic comes to my mind often --- usually when I get an email that says I have won a free vacation to the Caribbean or a laptop computer. I never even open the email because it looks too good to be true. If it looks too good to be true, it probably is. Unless you are a doctor named Eric, please email me and let me know if you have ever answered an online email and won anything. I’m humble@humblefarmer.com
+
7. A few years I asked you to enumerate the advantages of living in Castle Hill, Maine, instead of Ashland, Portage, Masardis, or Oxbow. The response I got was respectable – many people replied --- and I’m pretty sure I gave you their answer in 1999, but because it is a topic that is obviously still of interest to many I feel obligated to repeat it again. As anyone who lives in Castle hill will tell you, Castle Hill is at least ten miles closer to the big shopping mall in Presque Isle.
+
8. If you were to give me a harness and tell me to harness a horse, I wouldn’t be able to do it. My grandfather was born 40 years before anybody had an automobile so you can understand that in 1870 he and his friends knew how to harness a horse before they were 10. We can still remember when people were allowed to smoke in restaurants and offices and gas stations. But in 70 years, if there are any people left at all, you won’t find many of them who would remember when ashtrays were on tables in restaurants. A few years ago, when the tobacco companies were still fighting any legislation that might cut into tobacco sales, they tried to pass a law that said that although people could not smoke in offices, bars or restaurants, they would be allowed to smoke in pool halls, bowling alleys and off-track betting facilities. When I asked my friend Richard why these people should be allowed to smoke inside just because they play pool or bet on races, he said, “Allowed? I think smoking in those places ought to be mandatory.”
+
9. I just got to thinking that my great grandfather, Joe Gilchrest, was old enough to be my grandfather’s grandfather. And my grandfather was old enough to be my mother’s great grandfather. My mother never saw her grandfather because he would have been 98 years old when my mother was born. I guess what I’m saying here is that in the Gilchrest branch of my family, the menfolk have made a habit of putting off having children a bit later with every generation. It seems to progress geometrically. Can you help me with the math? If my great grandfather was 42 when my grandfather was born, and my grandfather was 56 when my mother was born, how many more years must I wait before my wife will not let me slip out alone at night?
+
10. Like any homely, shy, stoop shouldered kid, I was attracted to pretty girls who would not give me the time of day. When I was a kid I lost girlfriends to guys who would get drunk and slap them around. Back then I didn’t understand the powerful and perverted way Mother Nature works, and I don’t understand it now. Years ago I attended the wedding of a notorious girl pounder. I have it on good authority that the groom pounded on his wife-to-be all the time. But he was handsome. I saw her marry him. An expert on human relations might talk until Dick Clark grows gray hair without convincing the battered bride to give up the pounding. What is it about a man sitting on death row for killing five young, good looking women, that makes dozens more write him love letters proposing marriage? It would seem that any agency that espouses as its cause the prevention of violence is fighting a very powerful natural drive that seems to motivate an unfortunate percentage of the female population. If you get the impression that I am shallow enough to have no sympathy for attractive, intelligent women who suffer from this mental illness, you are right. On the other hand, my heart goes out to strong, attractive, intelligent women who were reckless enough to hook up with homely, soft spoken, kind and sober men. I married one.
+
11. My friend Ken asks, “What do you make of the couple that were evicted from their lot for collecting junk? Is this not the end of a long standing Yankee tradition? I would like to hear your thoughts on that matter. Is it true that a man is only as well off as the number of old fire trucks in his yard? Thank you Ken. This certainly warrants our attention. Only an arrogant, presumptuous, inordinately provincial Maine native would claim that the need to collect junk originated with his tribe. Anyone who has traveled knows that one collects because of an innate frugality or a socio-economic system that makes collecting junk necessary for survival. You can travel over much of northern Europe and never see as much clutter as is found in one back yard in Washington County. An unbiased observer might assume from this, that there are countries in Northern Europe where people have adequate incomes. In these countries people have never developed the need to stockpile scraps of plywood or car parts. In parts of Africa, I am told, people crouch around fires on city street corners, cooking over cut up automobile tires. In these countries it is impossible to collect junk, because your neighbor would steal it. So, although the need to save junk may be genetic, there is an excellent possibility that it is economically driven. There are affluent countries in Europe where it is not necessary to hoard junk. There are poor countries in Africa where it is impossible to hoard junk. Maine seems to fit somewhere in between.
+
Thank you for reading my rants. Come have supper with us at the St. George farm when it gets warm enough to travel. Your buddy humble
785 River Road
St. George, ME 04860
(207) 226-7442
humble@humblefarmer.com
www.TheHumbleFarmer.com
© 2007 Robert Karl Skoglund