when he looked over at me, said, take a hike, son has a ring to it …
Adapted from these lines:
I remember once leaning over the dugout trying to tell Alvin Dark how great he was and how much I was for him and, well, maybe get his autograph too, when he looked over at me and said, “Take a hike, son. Take a hike.”
Take a hike, son. Has a ring to it, doesn’t it? Anyway, it’s become a deflating putdown line around the Bouton family.
Take a hike, son.
From Ball four plus ball five by Jim Bouton (Stein and Day, New York, 1981
intellectual integrity and thoughtful design is presented
Adapted from the article, “The Smithsonian Changes Its Description of Trump’s Role on Jan. 6” by By Graham Bowley who quoted an official response from The Smithsonian when the National Museum of American History removed some details of the charges President Trump faced when it replaced a display about his two impeachment stating:
“Adhering to principles foundational to our role as the nation’s museum, we take great care to ensure that what we present to the public reflects both intellectual integrity and thoughtful design,” the Smithsonian said.
According to the article:
The new text removed previous references to Mr. Trump’s incitement charge being based on “repeated ‘false statements’ challenging the 2020 election results” and giving a speech that “encouraged — and foreseeably resulted in — imminent lawless action at the Capitol.”
The new label reads: “On Jan. 13, 2021, Donald Trump became the first president to be impeached twice. The charge was incitement of insurrection based on his challenge of the 2020 election results and on his speech on Jan. 6. Because Trump’s term ended on Jan. 20, he became the first former president tried by the Senate. He was acquitted on Feb. 13, 2021.”
The new labeling that went up on Friday also changed the description of President Trump’s first impeachment, in 2019, adding the word “alleged” to a line that now reads: “The charges focused on the president’s alleged solicitation of foreign interference in the 2020 presidential election and defiance of Congressional subpoenas.”
I guess it is lucky for the Smithsonian that the text was printed on just a cardboard placard.
Plaques at the Baseball Hall of Fame are cast in bronze and is a notice outside the hall that information on the plaques WAS CORRECT at the time the plaque was created.
Me and my family has had a long association with the Smithsonian.
When my brother lived just outside Washington, DC, we made twice yearly trips to visit his family and those trips always included the Smithsonian.
When you walked into National Museum of American History the first thing you saw was a giant pendulum demonstrating the rotation of the earth.
Then you saw the original Star Spangled Banner.
Then you turned left and you saw the statue George Washington, also known as Enthroned Washington, a large marble sculpture by Horatio Greenough commissioned by the United States Congress on July 14, 1832 for the centennial of U.S. President George Washington’s birth on February 22, 1732. Completed in 1840, the statue was soon exhibited in the Rotunda of the United States Capitol and then moved to the Capitol’s east lawn in 1843. Since 1964, it has been in the National Museum of American History. (WIKIPEDIA)
Us little kids just had to laugh at this statue of the half naked George Washington.
That wasn’t unusual.
According again to Wikipedia, “When the marble statue arrived in Washington, D.C. from Italy on July 31, 1841 it immediately generated controversy and criticism on its installation in the rotunda in December 1841. Many found the sight of a half-naked Washington offensive, even comical.”
Official Washington didn’t quite know what to do with this statue so it’s entirely appropriate that it ended up in what some call “The Nation’s Attic.”
At least it has done better that Mr. Greenough statue, The Rescue, that at one time was the steps of the East Front of the United States Capitol that depicted a Native America attacking a settler woman while a Daniel Boone type is about to axe the Native American.
Congress in 1939, in a joint resolution, condemned The Rescue and recommended that it should be “ground into dust.” In 1941, another resolution said it was “an atrocious distortion of the facts of American history and a gratuitous insult” to Native Americans.
The Rescue was removed in 1958 during some renovations and put in the real attic of the Smithsonian out in Silver Springs, Maryland where during a move in 1976, it got dropped by accident and broke into several pieces.
But it isn’t so much the statue I am thinking of today.
It is the inscription on the statue of Washington.
Written by Mr. Greenough, it says in latin,
SIMULACRUM ISTUD AD MAGNUM LIBERTATIS EXEMPLUM NEC SINE IPSA DURATURUM HORATIUS GREENOUGH FACIEBAT
Which translates to:
Horatio Greenough made this image as a great example of freedom, which will not survive without freedom itself.
An appropriate warning for the Smithsonian if I say so myself.
60 miles of beach no people and no dwellings just beach and water
If you take out your Rand McNally you’ll note that the Upper Peninsula is a long piece of land, over 300 miles, and thickish in places. It is about 30 percent of Michigan’s land mass but contains only 3 percent of its population. Growing up in northern Michigan I was early on mystified by the Upper Peninsula even before I traveled there. In the 1960s I went up a number of times, and it did not cease to mystify me with its wildness. While camping I would study maps to try to figure out where I was other than within a cloud of mosquitoes and black flies, that irritating species that depends on clean water, of which there is a great deal in the U.P. There is little or no industry; therefore you could drink the water directly from Lake Superior — at least I always did on my long beach walks. There was a place near Grand Marais of nearly 60 miles of undisturbed beach, no people, no dwellings, just beach and water.
Climbing on Miner’s Castle near 12 Mile Beach, when climbing was allowed and it had two towers – me in the gold shirt and bell bottom jeans …
If you grew up in the State of Michigan’s lower peninsula or lower half (a designation that led to directions to the town of Gaylord … in upper lower Michigan) at some point your family most likely made a trip to the UP.
My family went often.
Drive across the Mackinac Bridge and up to the Soo and then left over into the wild that was upper Michigan and the Lake Superior shore.
We were all early on mystified by the Upper Peninsula and we weren’t quite sure what the UP was, as what it was, was mostly old or older, as if the 1950’s never stopped.
I could tell lots of stories of the UP with me as a kid or with me as a parent.
I could tell how fun it was to climb all over the Tahquamenon Falls when I was a kid and marvel at the lack of protective railings and at the same time tell you stories about being a parent and being grateful someone finally put some protective railings along the Tahquamenon Falls.
But the story on my mind is of the last trip I took with my parents and little brothers.
As it seems to me that it was me and my brothers Steve and Al, (Pete had a summer job and a girlfriend so he stayed home) and Mom and Dad.
I probably was about 17 and it was the last summer trip I went on with my parents.
It was the usual trip over the Mackinaw Bridge and then Paradise, White Fish Point then on to maybe Newberry and Seney and Grand Marais and Munising.
We got to Grand Marais and had dinner and stayed in a motel there overnight and had breakfast also in Grand Marais which more or less used up the dining options for Grand Marais.
Dad spotted an IGA Grocery store and put forward the idea that he could grab some cold cuts and a loaf of bread and some pop and we could have a picnic lunch at 12 Mile Beach on the shore of Lake Superior.
Mom said okay and we stopped at the IGA and Dad offered to run in and grab the food and Mom was happy to let him go and wait in the car, which she should have known better or maybe did know better but by that time in their relationship, she didn’t care anymore.
I can’t remember if I waited in the car or went in the grocery store to watch but in about 10 minutes Dad came out with two full grocery bags (there were, you recall, 5 people on this trip) which he put in the trunk.
Dad got in and we drove off and Mom asks, “What in the world did you get?”
“Just a little lunch,” was all Dad said.
We found 12 Mile Beach and drove into the park and Dad spotted a picnic table on the sand where it looked like the black flies wouldn’t be too bad and we parked and Dad unpacked his little lunch.
First he had a bought big table covering and plastic plates and silverware and cups.
I mean who wants to eat off a picnic table top.
Then he set out two or three loaves of bread (White, Wheat and Rye).
And a full pound of butter.
And a selection of of least 3 different cheeses (one was an unsliced big block of cheese, so he also bought a carving knife) and lots of different meats – Turkey, Ham, Roast Beef and I think an old fashioned ring baloney.
These were NOT the machine packed cold cuts of today, but sliced to order deli meat wrapped in white paper.
And he got out a jar of mayonnaise and two types of mustard.
I think there were two kinds of chips and there were crackers (for the cheese) and a bag of apples and a bag of oranges.
The store must not have had any watermelons or he would have bought one.
He got a gallon of milk and a case of Coke.
Mom watched and helped spread out this bounty.
Then there were the specials.
Dad was a sucker for small grocery stores and the local goodies they often sold.
Seems like there was small jar of pickled herring and a bag of Trenary Toast and two cold UP pasty’s wrapped up in paper and some fresh potato salad and maybe some cold pickled eggs.
So we sat down to eat.
Mom had us make our own sandwiches and offered up the chips and other sides.
Watching Dad make a sandwich was to watch an artist at work.
He once told me that he learned how to dress a plate by watching Army Cooks get dinner ready for the Generals in his unit during World War 2.
I do know from his letters home that he and the Doctor that made up the Medical Team assigned to the Headquarters Unit of the 12 Corps (Spearhead of Patton’s Third) would often find time to INSPECT the Generals’ mess just before dinner and the Generals’ Cook took good care of them – My Dad famously gained weight in the Army).
When Dad made his sandwich he would select his bread and lay it out just so, then the mayo and the butter and then the layers of meat and cheese and the sandwich would be assembled.
Then, and my brother Bobby said this was the magic part, Dad would take the biggest knife he could find and with the precision and grace of a surgeon, he would cut the sandwich into four triangles.
Bobby said watching Dad make a sandwich with ring baloney and a giant butcher knife was like watching a magician – cut – swoop – spread – cut and POOF – a baloney sandwich in bite sized pieces for little kids.
Using the tip of the knife, he would pick up each triangle of sandwich and move it over to his plate where the triangles would be arranged in an arty pattern.
Then potato salad would be added to the arrangement on the plate and chips and fruit all in the way that somehow made you hungry just to look at it.
Dad took as much satisfaction in the creation of the plate as he did in eating all the food on his plate.
And he enjoyed eating, boy, howdy!
And we ate.
And ate until we were just nibbling on fruit and chips to fill in the edges.
That’s when Mom surveyed the table and pointed out we were on 12 mile beach in the UP, miles from anywhere, with no cooler or anything like that, and asked so what did Dad plan to do with all this food, Mom wanted to know.
It seems like Dad, after thoroughly enjoying the food as well as the success of his picnic idea, just smiled and shrugged as Mom looked him in the eye and shook her head.
So we packed up best we could and Dad loaded the grocery bags back into the trunk and we started off.
We drove about mile through the park, past the park campground and there ahead of was a couple of Park Rangers and a young lady who was visibly distraught.
We slowed to stop as they were standing in the road by the Park Ranger’s jeep.
Dad’s window was open and one of the Park Rangers explained that the young lady had driven to the park and set up her tent and had been met by some friends and as these things will happen, the friends had just driven off with the young lady’s coat in their car.
The problem was the young lady’s car keys were in coat.
At this point, the visibly distraught young lady spotted Mom and saw a sympathetic face so she came over to the other car window to talk to Mom.
Mom had that effect on a lot of people.
The young lady had her tent all set up and was set camp wise but she couldn’t get in her car.
She pointed to her tent over in the campground, next to a picnic table.
She said she and her friends had driven over to the swimming beach and she had left her coat and car keys in their car and now, they had just left.
The young lady said that is wasn’t terrible as they were coming back the next day but she was stuck, couldn’t use her car and had planned to drive into Grand Marais to go the IGA for groceries.
But at that moment, she had no food and they, the Park Rangers, were trying to decide if one of them could drive her to the store.
Ding, Dong, Saved by the bell!
Dad put the car in park and said to everyone, “Nothing to worry about!”
He got out and looked at me and said, “come on” and he opened the trunk and we carried the two bags of food over to the picnic table.
The Park Rangers and the young lady just stared.
Who carries two bags of groceries in their car in the middle of summer?
We got back in and the the Rangers looked at Dad and said “thank you”.
The young lady started crying and Mom reached out the window and gave her as much of hug as she could and off we went.
Did I mention how big a smile Dad had on his face?
Mom too, had to laugh.
Mr. Harrison writes: There is also a tradition in the Upper Peninsula that you never pass by anyone needing help. An Ojibwa Indian once towed me 60 miles after I broke a fan belt on Fourth of July weekend. He seemed startled that I couldn’t install a fan belt. A gas station had a spare, which he installed. He wouldn’t accept money so I stuffed a C note in his wife’s pocket. She smiled, having more sense than he did. Where can you find someone to tow you 60 miles and install your fan belt? Only in the U.P.
I am sure somewhere to this day this is a lady who tells about the miracle of the food on her camping trip.
I still laugh when I try to picture that young lady’s face as she unpacked the bags and looked over that collection of food.
lady stands waiting decent person trying to survive a tough life
On my commute to work I pass a lady, standing on the side of the road.
I am sure she is waiting for a ride to work.
She is dressed in the uniform of a hotel housekeeper which isn’t unusual since my commute takes me out to resort island on the coast of the South Carolina low country.
Some mornings she is standing with a young boy about 10 years old.
Both wear backpacks.
I want to stop and offer her a ride but I don’t.
This morning I happened to be listening to an audio book (The Guardians by John Grisham) and just as I pass the lady standing and waiting, I hear the words, “… a decent guy trying to survive a tough life.”
Mr. Grisham was describing someone in the book.
But the words hit me, looking at the lady as I passed.
She is there everyday.
She shows up for work and if the traffic works, she shows up on time.
Probably not working for much beyond minimum wage.
Working.
Working hard.
Working hard to make things nice for people who are on the island for a vacation.
Decent person trying to survive a tough life.
Type of person this country was built on.
So why?
Why aren’t we trying to help this lady?
Why do so many people seem to hate this lady?
Decent person trying to survive a tough life.
Isn’t that a description that any one of us would want?
No Haiku For You 