Grape Nehi

Posted on May 11, 2024 by Marty Ryan

Like the character Radar O’Reilly on the long-running sitcom MASH, I love grape Nehi soda.

Growing up, I hung around a Texaco gas station on the south side of U.S. Highway 30. Highway 30, also known as the Lincoln Highway, is a main road traveling from the east coast to the west coast. Prior to the building of the interstate highway system, it was as busy a highway as you’ve ever seen. It was difficult to cross the road because of the hundreds of semi rigs, tourists in the summer, and regular traffic on a daily basis that had very few alternatives going from east to west or west to east across the continent. However, a Vail kid could always find a way to cross the two-lane road with ease, and did so, often. Amazingly, no one was ever hit by a vehicle.

The Texaco station was a busy place. Cars were pulling in to get gas so frequently the owner had very little time to wait on the gasoline pumps and provide auto repair in the back. I would sit in the station and watch Bob Loew or Earl Costello, or whomever else owned the place, wait on gas customers until I knew I could pump gas, check oil, air in the tires, and wash the windshield. As soon as I had it figured out, I would wait for the bell to go off – ding, ding! “I can get it,” I would yell. And I would run outside to take care of the customer. After a while, I was taken for granted. That didn’t bother me because I would be rewarded with a grape or orange Nehi soda from the soda machine. It cost a dime. There was a rack on the side where the empty bottles would be stacked.

The soda dispenser was the beginning of vending machines, as I know it. The bottles hung from the bottle neck. After inserting the dime, you could move the bottle to a mechanism that allowed you to lift the entire bottle from the machine. I swear that mechanism was designed to prevent children from using it. One slip of the hand and you would have to have another dime ready to use. But since I helped out whatever owner, I knew where the key was to open the back side of the dispenser and help myself. I never stole or told anyone where the key was. I never opened the back side if anyone was within an earshot of the cooler.

There were three other stations in town that sold gas. There was a difference between a service station and a gas station. Abbot’s Standard was just that – a place to purchase gas. The office was too small for anyone but Roy Abbot to occupy, and I don’t think he had a pop machine, candy, or any other sundries. Weiss’ DX Station on the other end of town had an office a little smaller than Roy’s, but all of the Weiss brothers managed to fit in it at one time. That was until Pete built a new station with two bays. He used one bay to park his brand-new baby-blue 1964 Ford Mustang. He rarely drove it. The final station was Hubie Jackson’s. I think the gas brand was Mobil. However, I never saw anyone buy gas there. Hubie fixed small engines, such as lawnmowers, but he did have gas pumps.

I learned how to change oil, rotate tires and repair tires, change wiper blades, and all sorts of minor tasks that gas station attendants/owners performed on a daily basis. I moved up into the world when Joe Fineran asked if I wanted to work for him. Joe owned an automobile repair shop. He did more than fix flats, pump gas, and change oil and filters; Joe tore engines down and rebuilt them, repaired them, and cursed at them. That job didn’t last long. All I did was wash parts in gasoline and he paid me fifty-cents a day. I began mowing yards after that and made some very good money for a young boy. And I was good at it.

This week I did a search to find out if I could purchase Grape Nehi nearby. I was surprised to find out that I could, but at the price quoted I chose not to make the investment. Of course, I don’t drink soda pop, so I had no idea that the cost of all carbonated sugary drinks has exploded over the years.

And I thought coffee was expensive. Hah!

***

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What are the odds?

Posted on May 5, 2024 by Marty Ryan

Mise en place [MEEZ ahn plahs] is the process of measuring and acquiring all the ingredients before the start of preparing a recipe. I practice the method religiously. However, when I decided to make some ham and scalloped potatoes last Sunday, I began putting the recipe together before ensuring that I had all the ingredients. I had milk, but not enough.

It had been cloudy all day, but my source of weather information suggested that there was a 29% chance of rain. That percentage wasn’t high enough for me to worry about having raindrops falling on my head. So, I decided to walk to the grocery store three blocks away. But I didn’t take the straightest line. Instead, I used the recreational trail near our house that will get you to the store by strolling along the river, but it’s a mile walk.

About two-hundred yards from the store’s entrance, it began to rain. The rain was light, so I didn’t mind getting a little mist on me. While in the store, accumulating necessary ingredients and a few impulsive purchases, I looked out to see that the rain was coming down harder. I made my purchases and stood by the door waiting for the rain to let up. After all, the chance of rain was only 29%. It couldn’t last long. But it did.

A few feet from the store was a long-supported overhang in front of a strip of several stores. I made it over there without getting too wet and walked to the end of the strip, but then what? There was only two things to do: stand like a fool until the rain stopped, or get wet. I got wet on the walk home.

The walk home was a short route. Even so, I began to think about that 29%. Isn’t the odds of it raining 50-50? It’s either going to rain, or it isn’t. In my opinion, the possibility of precipitation is always 50%.

More often than I appreciate it, people ask me: “What are the odds of that happening?” Fifty-fifty, I say. It would either happen or it won’t happen.

By the way, the scalloped potatoes and ham were just what I needed on a rainy day!

***

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Iowa Governor Reynolds’ “Poor” Math

Posted on April 29, 2024 by Marty Ryan

Last December, Iowa Governor Kim Reynolds turned down $29 million of federal funding that would have provided a low-income family $40 per month “to help with food costs” during the 3-month break in the school year. Her justification for snubbing the federal money was a cruel accusation that Iowa children are fat and that “childhood obesity has become an epidemic.” But let’s not have facts get in the way. Or, the lack of facts, thereof.

Erica Kenney, an assistant professor at Harvard University’s T.H. Chan School of Public Health, said “there is no evidence that a program like this has anything to do with childhood obesity. It’s absolutely true you can have obesity and be struggling to get food on the table for your family. It is not all true that helping people who are struggling financially means they’re going to eat more and gain weight.”

The governor’s heart may be in the “right” place when she claims that the $40 per month will not “promote nutrition,” but it’s not like the family receiving the assistance will give the EBT card to the kid so that the child can run down to Candyland and splurge on Mountain Dew and KitKat bars.

For someone who is family-oriented with parental rights at the forefront, the governor’s contradiction of total government control over the food choices of families is beyond flagrant.

Reynolds rejected the $29 million deal claiming that it would cost the state $2.2 million in administration fees. However, State Senator Sarah Trone Garriott questions that amount since it costs Iowa $2.2 million in shared administrative costs to run the entire Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP) for the whole state.”  Moreover, the $900,000 for grants is a 15% increase in the already $6 million of federal money that was used by Iowa last year to fund the Summer Food Service Program. And supposedly, the money is for administrative purposes as well as money for healthy protein, veggies and fruits.

Secretary of Agriculture Vilsack estimates Reynold’s rejection last December means “Iowa will take a $100 million economic hit. The federal assistance “rolls around” in the economy, creating jobs at grocery stores and other businesses.”

Let’s do the math: the program that was rejected by Reynolds would provide $40 per month per child for three months; that’s $120 per summer per child. That doesn’t seem like a lot, but with several children at home during the summer parents can determine which foods to buy with the extended SNAP dollars. Without subtracting administration costs, that would assist 241,666 children in Iowa. Using Gov. Reynold’s Summer Food Service Program and Seamless Summer Option, which is nothing more than a continuation of free breakfasts and lunches provided by the federal government, not every child who received free meal in school will be able to participate. There are two reasons for this. First, over one-third of Iowa’s counties had either no meal sites or one meal site per county in 2023. Second, there are three options to the plan.

If operating a congregate meal, federal regulations require that parents and caregivers cannot pick up meals for their children, and “all meals must be consumed on-site.” However, a child may take “one fruit, vegetable, or grain item from their meal off-site to eat later.” According to the government website, a “typical lunch, for example, could include a [cold] turkey sandwich on wheat bread, milk, and apple, and a salad.

Another option is that the program is free to all children who attend camp, which is not defined, but most likely includes Vacation Bible School.

The third option is a non-congregate site where meals may be offered “to-go,” where a recipient or parent may pick-up the meal, or possibly delivered. How this differs from the first option is not explained.

All options for new meal site under the grant “must be located in an area where at least 50 percent or more of the children are eligible for free or reduced-price meals.”

A huge problem with Reynold’s program is that many adolescents sleep in during the summer. Having to be at a congregate site at a certain time will cause many teens and pre-teens to miss the most important meal of the day – breakfast. The program rejected by Iowa would have provided a breakfast meal at home. No walking in the rain, the sun, and scorching heat.

The Seamless Summer Option is a political response to an apparent uproar over criticism that the governor cares little about feeding hungry children.

This is a program that should be audited in the Fall. However, since this administration has tied the hands of Iowa’s Auditor, duct-taped his mouth shut and blindfolded his eyes, don’t count on that happening.

***

This article first appeared in the April 2024 issue of the Prairie Progressive.

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No Comprendo!

Posted on March 17, 2024 by Marty Ryan

“Get your number two pencils out. Nothing else, just your number two pencils.” At that point the nun teaching the class would go to the child who was never prepared for anything and take away his ink pen, or other pencil, or other writing instrument that was unauthorized to complete the Iowa Test of Basic Skills [ITBS] ‘score card.’ Sharpies had not been invented, yet.

Most students in Iowa, and across the nation might be familiar with the ITBS. “The ITBS tests are designed for kindergarten through 8th grade students and include nine themes: vocabulary, word analysis, listening, reading comprehension, language, math, social studies, science, and sources of information.”

I can remember Sister Williametta being very proud of me that I scored in the ninety-ninth percentile of the social studies category, and above ninety in every other category – except reading comprehension. My scores on reading comprehension were in the thirties. As of this day, I can’t imagine how that could happen. But I have a theory.

In order to complete the math questions about a train leaving Philadelphia at 3:00 pm traveling west at 50 mph, and a train leaving St. Louis at 5:00 pm traveling east at 40 mph, etc., you have to comprehend what the question is seeking and produce the correct answer. I aced those questions that require some comprehension. So why did I not do well in comprehension?

The New York Times recently posted a few new questions of the recently revised SAT exam. It’s all digital now. I got around SAT testing by taking a class here, a college class there, and a college class in between. When it came time for entrance exam it was obvious that I could achieve at the college level. So, I accepted the challenge to try a few questions on the part of the exam that the NY Times provided. I failed comprehension.

There have been people who insist that I may have ADHD, ADD, or obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD). I have never been diagnosed with any of the mental deficiencies, but I probably have or still experience symptoms of each. Although I am not a behavioral health professional [thank God], I do believe the low scores on comprehension have something to do with one or more of those three mental disorders. So what? I manage to enjoy life.

Give me something challenging that doesn’t have to do with mechanical tinkering and I will try to work on it, like the trains above. But comprehend some boring story in which I’m given a sentence or two. Forget it. Boring! Often, I can see where two answers appear to be the same.

I haven’t changed much since 7th grade. Oh, I can comprehend what I write, or read a book and comprehend the storyline. However, I continue to procrastinate, get lost in thoughts, and move to a different task before finishing another.

By the way, if you think the answer to the train question is Indianapolis, you could be correct. But I would need more information, such as: how many stops did each train make? Each must have had to switch crews, refuel, wait for a coal train (coal trains have priority), or switch boxcars on a siding before reaching their respective destination. I always thought of those possibilities.

Don’t think too much. And “get that eraser out of your mouth!”

***

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Garbage Day

Posted on March 11, 2024 by Stephanie Fawkes-Lee

National Football League quarterback Kirk Cousins is leaving the Minnesota Vikings after signing a contract with the Atlanta Falcons for 4-years and $180 million dollars with $100 million of it guaranteed. It’s quite a contract. He had stated earlier in the year that the money wasn’t important to him, he had enough money. I mistook him to mean he possessed a loyalty to the team and the players.

Loyalty, like integrity, is a thing of the past. I realized the slow death of these outdated values almost thirty years ago when the garbage removal company called and sent threatening letters to me about a nonexistent garbage bin after I sold my home in Plymouth, Minnesota. At that time, garbage removal was done by private contractors. We and many of our neighbors contracted with Randy’s Sanitation. A competitor offered the neighborhood 3 weeks of free garbage removal along with a new blue garbage bin that rolled to the curb. My neighbors all took the bait and the neighborhood was soon littered with shiny new bins on garbage day. Now Randy’s was a family-owned business who had given us excellent service, so I remained loyal to them and learned to live with my old, beat-up, store-bought bin that I dragged to the end of the driveway come rain, snow or dark of night.

Time passed and Randy’s decided to fight back and wooed some of my neighbors back with their own shiny brown garbage bins that rolled to the curb. Since I was already a customer, the new bin was never offered to me. This didn’t bother me, but it took far too long to convince Randy’s that I wasn’t moving away with one of their promotional bins, I had simply been a loyal and clearly unappreciated customer.

Maybe loyalty just isn’t sexy when compared to the seven deadly sins. Lust, gluttony, sloth, wrath, envy, pride and greed are even enjoyable to say. You can really sink your teeth into enunciating them versus the drab loyalty and integrity. So, I understand Cousins forfeiting loyalty and giving into greed. It’s so very tempting.

***

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A Retired Ritual

Posted on March 7, 2024 by Marty Ryan

Some traditions vanish before you think to tell your children about them. On the other hand, I doubt very much that my children or grandchildren would be interested in hearing about the anachronistic ritual of a chivaree. [Alteration of the French word charivari, with a Latin root meaning “headache.”]

I participated in one chivaree, or shivaree as it’s spelled in some backwater regions of the country. I barely remember it. Mom got a few of us kids and passed out pots, pans, kettles, or anything metal along with a metal spoon, and herded us two blocks south to a basement house. We banged on those metal kitchen cookware instruments as loud as we could. I must have been very young because I don’t remember who the newly-wed couple was.

What I do remember is that the couple who were being serenaded by our racket were just married, and mom called it a chivaree. That is the first and last time I was ever involved in such a ritualistic, yet enthralling, activity.

A chivaree was a traditional custom in the Midwest, the hills of the Carolinas, and parts of New England in the 19th century, and it continued into the first part of the 20th century. I may have attended the final chivaree in the early 1950s.

“Shivaree is defined as ‘a loud and purposely frightening community party, forced upon newlyweds a short time after their wedding.’” It often took place around midnight, or at least after dark, and besides the banging of pots and pans, guns were fired into the air and people pounded on the windows. The one I attended was in the evening, probably right after the sun set and there were no guns.

The couple subjected to the chivaree are expected to invite all the revelers in for alcoholic drinks and candy for the kids. I don’t recall getting any candy, but I can guarantee that the adults with us kids that night partied hardy, while the kids were sent home.

Depending upon where you lived a chivaree might be called “bellings,” “hornings,” or “serenades.” But the tradition is similar in all instances.

I can’t imagine you could successfully chivaree some couple in today’s world. Try that in a suburban atmosphere. We already know that the activity in an urban area would have you in handcuffs before the couple could make it to the door to ask you to keep it down. If everyone in a small town was in on the secret, it might work out, but I wouldn’t count on it.

“The merits of a shivaree were numerous. Everyone in the community participated-young and old, male and female. The newlyweds certainly met their neighbors in a friendly if raucous manner and were, in turn, properly initiated into the community. Another important feature of the custom was the collective good cheer and feeling of community everyone shared.”

The ritual often began a little after the happy couple had turned off the lights on their wedding night, or shortly thereafter.

Considering all the old-time rituals that have died out through the years, I’m glad that this one disappeared. Or did it.

***

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