This infographic illustrates just how impotent law enforcement is when it comes to the New York Mob. Even with this big mob bust, the gangsters still run New York crime.
Monthly Archive for December, 2011
Page 3 of 4
This morning we had our second visit by Toucans.
The “guys” were here to hook up our new electric meter and when I came out to greet them they were looking and pointing up the hill to our neighbors banana tree. Five Toucans were feasting on the bananas. It was a thrill to see them again. And it was fun that the guys were excited to see them too.
The last time the Ticos here were excited was when a big green iguana was sunning himself on a wood pile.
OK, the Toucans weren’t in the house… but there was bird shit.
We have a gimpy bird hanging out in our Rancho. He has a bum leg, but has taken a real liking to Sedona’s dog food. We feed her dry kibbles, not the soft stuff. And she’s a big dog so the kibbles are big too. The bird is about the size of a Robin, but has no problemo gobbling down the kibble.
If I forget to put the dog food inside when we leave, we will come home to kibbles all over the rancho.
Today was a first. I forgot to close the sliding screen and apparently the little sucker has gotten brazen enough to come INTO the house to feast.
There was pretty green bird shit, highlighted with festive little green seeds, on the floor inside the door.
But, hey, I’ve cleaned up worse… so no birds will die.
Rowdy Yates was the drover on Raw Hide (played by Clint Eastwood.)
You probably can hum the tune and maybe even sing a few words from the theme song.
Last night about midnight, I was channeling my inner Rowdy Yates. Nancy wrote about it from her perspective.
Here’s mine.
I did yell Yee-Haw, Git! out the window.
Nancy’s way of communicating with animals, is to converse with them. ie: Sedona is on the bed and Nancy want’s to retire for the evening.
Her conversation will be something like.:
“You know Sedona, that isn’t your bed. It sure would be nice if you would move so I could lie down.”
Sedona opens her eyes.
“I’m serious, you need to move, or at least move over.”
Sedona gives her a look.
“OK, come on, I’m tired, you need to get down.”
Compare to… me going to bed.
“Sedona! Down!”
She gets up, gets down, and I get in bed.
Imagine the conversation Nancy would have with the cows.
It would probably start with “Now girls…”
After my first Yee-Haw, about 1/2 the herd moved back up the hill from whence they came.
The power.
I thought I would do a good deed and try to get in front of the others and at least keep them out of the road.
Of course that didn’t work. As I moved toward them, they moved away. There was no way for me to get in front of them, and I wasn’t very motivated either.
The remaining cows exited the gate and gathered in the road like a bunch of Republicans: No clear leader, unsure where they want to go and how to get there, but sure that where they have been sucks.
Unlike Rowdy Yates, I didn’t mount up to get the strays.
Last I saw/heard from them, they were moseying up the hill toward away from our gate.
At least they were quiet about it.
I was a north-sider. I lived in the same house from birth until college.
But I spent most of my time on the South Side…
…of Allen, Michigan.
Population when I was there: about 300.
As I lay in bed last night in our new small town, my thoughts drifted to life in Allen in the fifties. I wondered if I could recall who lived in the houses I passed regularly on the South Side.
Why would a North Sider venture to the South Side of Allen Michigan? Because that’s where the sidewalk began. We lived in the nicest house in town, right on the west edge of town. We lived on the north side of US 12, also known as Chicago Road.
The city limit sign was right out our front door.
To jump on my bike and go meant crossing to the South Side to grab some sidewalk.
It started in front of Shenefield’s Standard Oil Station.
Here are my recollections of the people who lived on the South Side – in order from Shenefield’s.
I didn’t do so good. I seem to remember only those neighbors that had kids about the same age as me… I guess that’s normal?
- Mrs. Lambright (maybe) – I took piano lessons from her for one excruciating summer.
- Unknown
- Fidler family – Bruce was younger than I but we played together sometimes.
- Unknown single lady that sold junk off her porch
- Daniels family – can’t remember the kid, but he was a few years older. Sharon, his sister, used to babysit me I was told.
- Mrs. Fromm – really nice lady
- Wilson family – the dad was a cop in Allen and was murdered. Ivan Wilson – didn’t know him, but imagine the impact that had on my home town. Allen was speed trap. He stopped a guy who pulled a gun and murdered Ivan.
- United Methodist Church – where I went to church and got a pin for 52 weeks perfect attendance to Sunday School.
- Unknown
- Unknown
- Unknown
- Diedrich family – The funeral home. Bob was my age and we were pals. We did a lot together. Couldn’t play much at his house because there was always a body in the parlor. But he had a great garage because it was big enough for three cars – including a hearse. (Diedrich is prounounced deed-rick, Died-Rich wouldn’t be a good brand for a funeral home.)
- Unknown – 1/2 house
- Unknown – 1/2 house (my dad told me these houses used to be one when he was growing up in Allen, but they split them.)
- Unknown
- Trall family – Doug was my age, but moved away. His dad was a prison guard. Big tough guy intimidated the hell out of me.
Start of the central “business district”
- Green Top Tavern – I don’t recall ever setting foot inside. The door from the tavern opened right onto the sidewalk. Had to be alert so it didn’t swing open right in front of a careening bicycle (that’s the only way we rode – careening.)
- Two ancient buildings – Knights of Pythias Hall I think, the Masons used to meet upstairs. The place of many, many potluck suppers – which is the best food in the world. I forget what the other one was.
- Barber shop. I have two crowns in my hair and the barber only knew one way to cut my hair – a buzz. I hated my hair in junior high school – I tried to adapt and wear a flat-top, but never got the hair trained, so I had to use that gel that made the hair stiff. By the end of the day, I looked like I had horns. What a dork.
- Unknown – but it was a beauty shop in half the house.
- Unknown
- Unknown (not even sure how many houses there are/were.)
- Englehart family – the owners of the phone company! Wilma ran the switchboard and Carl was the technician. Our phone number was 45. Four-five, not forty five. No area code back then. I’m now living where there are eleven digits in the phone number (including the area code). Destiny.
Cross Street: Railroad to the south and M-49 to the North.
- Batt family – Chuck Batt was a little older, but he was odd. He loved to cut down trees. With an ax. His axes were so sharp, a neighbor just about cut his hand in half between the fingers when he swung around and it the unprotected blade.
- Grandpa’s House – Harlow and my “grandmas” lived there. I can’t even remember if he was married four or five times. Nina, divorced him. I remember she had me come visit and gave me a shoe shine shortly before she left. I guess she wanted to create a memory. She did. I recall Pearl and Bess were two other wives he outlived. Pretty sure there was another one.
- Unknown – but when I was in junior high school it was the DeLine family. Dad owned a bar at the end of town. Judy was younger and had a crush on me. I didn’t care about girls at the time.
- Post Office – 49227 was a big deal. Our mail was delivered by car because we lived on a Rural Route
- Allen Public Schools. When my dad attended it was K-12. I think there were three in his graduating class. I attended until sixth grade, then the school consolidated with Quincy schools and I rode a bus six miles. I always blamed this for my bad experience in high school. Us “Allen kids” were never accepted. Always having to catch the bus after school meant not “connecting” with the Quincy kids.
- Hoopengardner family. Diane was younger and her brother was a “hood.” Her brother and my older brother tangled.
From here on, my memory gets really hazy… because most of the time I crossed the street back to the North Side so I could ride by
- Sanderson family. I had a huge crush on Myrna all through grade school. It was unrequited. She even returned my Valentine’s Day Candy and card one year. She grew up nicely through high school – aka: she was “stacked.” As a result, she only dated older jocks from other towns. Dorks with dual crowns didn’t even try.
The last stop was a little general store where I would blow my money from selling Grit newspapers and my allowance on candy. They had the best choice.
Life on the South Side for a North Side kid was pretty good. If it sounds like Stand By Me, it wasn’t. Well maybe if you take away the dead kid, it was.
Mark magazine is a platform for the practice and perception of architecture at the dawn of the third millennium. Since its launch in 2005, the magazine has proven to be a timely, visual, non-academic publication full of first-hand information from creative people. Mark has a radically international perspective, shining its spotlight on starchitects and new talent alike. The magazine explores the boundaries of architecture and anticipates the industry’s future.
Great name, but 19.95 Euros? $26.76 US? Whuck? This has to be one of those magazines that can be had for nada if you have the right title or mailing address.
Say, for example, my name was Mark Lloyd Wright and I lived at Falling Water.
I betcha I could get a freebie.
I miss the freebie magazines… I would regularly trade airline miles for a magazine subscription. Usually I caught up on my perusing of the rags whilst sitting under a shade tree smoking a stogie with an adult beverage.
Even Opera magazine was appealing under those circumstances.
Barely.
I’m sure I would find Mark to be very appealing. Wonder if they mail to Costa Rica…
