A shaky soap box

My original intent as anyone who has read any of my inane blogs knows was to impart to my children events that occurred in my life, also perhaps a little wisdom. The reason of course as a father I was inept in that regard. I have tried to be truthful with the actual events As far as wisdom goes they are all a hell of a lot sharper them me. So I am sure they take my meandering thoughts with a grain of salt. In each tale I tried to inject a little humor. Knowing full well that my sense of humor is somewhat warped. But in this blog I am going to climb up on a soap box and take a somewhat different approach. As I try to get philosophical about some things that are discouraging to me. Respect is what seems to me is the word, I am searching for. It also may be courtesy or just common sense. All of which seems to be missing in this electronic age we live in. The gist of my problem is I am an alien in cyber space. The different devices and the keeping up with the Joneses mentality are frustrating in many respects. The fact that I am inept at everything that evolves electronic devises, compounds my dilemma. My first bitch will be facebook. When I first signed on as a member of this site, I was enthused. I thought what a great concept. A chance to interact with distant relatives, old school mates and other interesting people I have known over the years. A place to post photos, relate family news and express an opinion on something that might interest or alarm you.
Now my enthusiasm for this site has waned considerably. When I sign off now I wonder why I bother to return. What I express next is not a shot at all my facebook acquaintances (friends) about forty percent of them post interesting respectful insights. The other sixty percent reflect society as it is today in my opinion. Disrespectful to the point of malice. When I was a kid we were taught to be respectful to our elders and people of authority. When I went into military service I was trained to salute officers. Not the individual, but for what their commission stood for. I am absolutely appalled by the slanderous disrespect my so called facebook friends so gleefully post about their commander-in-chief. I am all for people posting their feelings on all subjects. But I feel it can be done respectfully. Most of the things people so spitefully infer would d get you kicked off of their friend list if you posted something viciously untrue about them or one of their own. I feel like everywhere I turn people are only happy if something bad happens to the president or the country. I am not tub thumping for Obama. I feel that he has probably made as many mistakes as the man who preceded him. But he does deserve the respect of his office.
The facebook friends I am talking about rarely pass on a thought that is their own. They mostly just pass on cruel propaganda. This somehow reminds you of the kids in the school yard who just stood around and watched as some sneering bully made life miserable for some poor soul who had the gall to be different. So if I am profiling so be it. When the holy rollers come around knocking on doors, I pretend like I am not home. With which I segue into my second facebook bitch. .Those who feels it is their duty to insult what little intelligence I have by smugly spouting scripture to my evil hopelessly lost soul. That too is disrespect for others. So I guess my only recourse is to shy away from facebook like I do the canvassing neighborhood bible thumpers. It’s hard enough to have to endure bigotry with out seeking it out in what is considered a social media. I probably should start using the only part of electronic devices that I feel comfortably able to manage, the shut down icon.
My third gripe is my futile attempts to reach any one I have business or medical connections with by telephone. After glancing over my shoulder to make sure no one is watching or listening to me talk to a recording. I proudly submit that yes I do speak English, and then after I fend of a long list of options that no sane person would opt for, the recording gleefully invites me to start the same process all over again. Of course this strategy is a well thought out ploy to get me to hang up. How can you as a customer or a patient dare to have the nerve to expect to get any kind of service or courtesy?
Finally I figure out how to talk to an actual being. Sometimes it is as simple as hitting O for operator or simply slamming the phone against the wall or my head. As a rule I usually use which ever is closest. Now they really start to crap all over my sensibilities when they connect me to a slurring alien who certainly was not asked to press one if he or she could speak English. Now I am talking to someone in some remote part of India, he actually acts insulted when you have the nerve to tell him you do not understand a word he is saying. When you ask to speak to his supervisor or perhaps some one who might have any idea of what you are asking. He promptly agrees and puts you on hold. Of course after a pregnant pause another recording tells you to hang up and try redialing. Or if the phone company is having a bad day, just an irritating busy signal.
As an aside I have to say “hats of to Prudential life” they have some how managed to make their web site even more convoluted than their phone system. It just goes to show you that insurance company’s are still always one step ahead of every one else when it comes to indifference. So I show my age when I say, I remember when you dialed a business number and a cheery voice said “Hello, how may I help you”
So as I delve further into my electronic insecurities my next gripe pertains to a plumbing problem I have. Well actually I have two plumbing problems, but the physical lament I will put aside for another day. I had a hot water pipe spring a leak. A plumber made a temporary repair and promised to return and rectify my problem. Needless to say he like most professional people overbook at every chance they get, as they all fear that congress is hell bent on creating another recession. So his office like all businesses answers the phone with a recording that announces that they are way to busy to talk to you. But if you leave your name, telephone number and address with a brief summation as why you would have nerve enough to bother them. They will get back to you. After you try calling them back three or four times in the next week or so, you start wondering did I screw this up. Did I jump the beep? Or did I wait to long after the beep? Was I supposed to hit the pound key when I was through with my message? But off course the message is there. It just does not seem like a priority to them and like the facebook sixty percent a total lack of courtesy and disrespect is accepted as the norm.
My last bit of electronic frustration is my failure to master the computer key board. How I can have my words jump to any anyplace they want is beyond me. Sometimes I will glance at the monitor and what I thought I typed is no where to be found. And other times when I look up I see the words have some how just inserted them selves randomly in a completely different paragraph. This off course makes my task quite tedious. But unlike the mysteries of my other gripes, I know what my problem with the keyboard is. I am over extending myself by trying to type and think at the same time.
My final shame is that every month after I have paid my TV ransom to Comcast. I realize that one of the big trees that hang over my house must be a Chestnut because that is certainly where the village idiot sits.

So after this bombastic spiel, I climb down off of my shaky soap box.

Jumping At the Woodside

I had intended to go off in a different direction at the end of my last blog but I started to do a little “Jumping At the Woodside” and I got distracted. I had intended to mention some of my odd summer distractions. You would think that here where I live was rural East Overshoe, New Hampshire instead of the southern sea coast. The other morning at day break there was a deer drinking out of my birdbath. This would have been all right, except he was doing his Gene Gene impersonation all over my Geraniums. After dispersing him, I went back into the house to finish my coffee. I glanced out the window to make sure he had not returned and much to my dismay there is a young woodchuck dining in my cucumber patch. So after a few days of skirmishes, I do believe he has taking up residence down the street in my neighbor’s yard and seems to be quite content. My neighbor however seems to have acquired a slight case of Saint Vitus Dance. A foot note to the ground hog saga. A noted woodchuck aficionado advised me to coexist with the little rodent by serving him a buffet a couple times a day. Needless to say, I filled that suggestion in the circular file.
Last but not the least, a family of Turkeys has taken up residence in the neighborhood. It was interesting to see the mother hen lead her little brood around the neighborhood. How ever as they grew they for their own safety had to find a place to roost at night. Much to my next door neighbors dismay they selected a tree in her back yard. So every evening about a half hour before dark they arrive from their day of foraging proceed to her front yard fly up on her roof and then up into the tree from there. Needless to say this has become a nightly attraction. I suggested that she should sell tickets to the spectacle. She suggested that I do something very difficult and painful to my posterior. So I filed that suggestion along side of the buffet suggestion.
It will be interesting to see where the turkeys move to when all the leaves have dropped. Some spruce thicket I imagine.

Semi Sentimental Journeys

I have not written a blog in awhile, but I promised my children that I would put my thoughts into print. The reason I have not done so lately is because when ever I get the urge to write something, I go back and read my last blog and decide that I have already made a big enough ass out of my self. Thus the gaps between blogs get longer and longer. I think when my kids first urged me to write a blog they were really interested in learning about the Lemp side of the family. As I have previously stated I was remiss in my obligation of enlightening them to their heritage. But I do feel that my blogs in their view point have become their own personal comedy hour. It seems my vocabulary, adages and slang from my youth is foreign to them. Especially when I am with my two youngest, they look at each other roll their eyes, grin and try there damnedest not to start giggling, it seems to tickle their fancy when I unwittingly go into my own personal unknown comic routine. (Here I digress for a bit to say that I first saw the unknown comic on TV, on the Gong show. In my opinion all the current talent shows pale in comparison. Not only was the list of guest judges lengthy it was a virtual who’s who of that era. Not only can I relate to the unknown comic, I also was always a comparable dancer to Gene Gene the dancing machine. It was with out a doubt the fastest half hour in television.) I will admit that my enunciation and or articulation is some times laughable at best. Thank god for the spell check icon. So for their amusement and much to my chagrin, I post a few more thoughts about the Lemp’s
This spring Diana, Lisa, Joe and I decided to take a trip to Arizona. I had mentioned to my son the previous autumn that I would really like to go out there and visit my brother David. So Joe and Diana decided that we would do it. I of course never would have gone on my own, as I am a thinker and ruer not a doer. To me this trip accomplished three goals. I got to visit with my brother and sister in law, who I had feared very much I would never see again. Lisa, Joe and Diana got to finally meet relatives on the Lemp side of the family. And we easterners got to tour the beautiful state of Arizona. All things considered it was a great trip. We actually interacted like a real family as the two half-sibling girls engaged in a few spirited sparing matches. So as this is a blog about the Lemp’s I take the liberty of blaming their minor grievances on their mothers.
This last week Joe took me to Cooperstown New York to visit the MLB hall of fame, take in a minor league baseball game in Troy and visit the Vale cemetery in Schenectady.
Vale cemetery is where my father, Grandmother Clara, Uncle James and his wife Marion are interred. I was always reluctant to make this pilgrimage because of my reluctance to except reality in general. But again my children have steered me in the right direction. Maybe I am starting to mellow out. But more than likely it’s the fact that at my age I am starting to ponder mortality.
Aunt Clara once waxed eloquently about Vale cemetery she described it as a blissful Eden where she and her brothers spent many enjoyable hours. It seems it was used as a park as well as a burial-ground. If you believe the old adage that a person would turn over in their grave if they saw how things are today, then we would have to refer to Clara as “pinwheel Clara” because Vale cemetery has fallen into total disrepair. The neighbor has deteriorated drastically and the cemetery and adjoining park are surrounded by what can only be described as a ghetto. The cemetery it self shows signs of negligible maintenance
vandalism and graffiti. The curator or caretaker assured us that there are corrective measures in the works. This is something I plan to monitor and maybe some where down the road the family might consider donations or some other action. This is a private cemetery and appears to have had mismanagement or poor funding.
Two days ago Diana and I went to visit the grave of our great-grandfather Dr. Hermann Lemp who is interred in Pine Grove cemetery in Lynn Massachusetts. The only similarity I can see between these two burial grounds is that Pine grove is what Clara’s Vale cemetery was in her youth. I have never seen a prettier or better groomed park anywhere. This is a huge beautiful place.
I suppose I should go to North Beverly and visit my mother and brother Noel and complete the circle.

FACEBOOK AND BEAGLES

FACEBOOK AND BEAGLES

Now it is February and time to bore my few blog readers with some more trivial and sometimes facetious thoughts. I tried to reread some of my previous blogs to make sure I was not being repetitious. But I just could not do it. What I try to get across as tongue-in-cheek does not come out as funny ha ha, but more like buffoonery. So with that said I would like to talk today about Facebook.
You would think that being smack dab in the middle of the winter, visiting Facebook would be a good way to fight cabin fever. But I usually come away from a visit there with mixed feelings. The thing that attracted me to Facebook was a chance to communicate with old school mates, Friends, and relatives.
But after the initial hi how are you? Contact. Future contact seems to be spiteful agendas. Everyone seems to be seething. I liken it to road rage. The meekest people who turns into ogres when they get behind the wheel is perplexing, so too are a lot of my Facebook friends (actually the majority should probably be referred to as associates) for every funny cartoon or adage that is posted, there are thousands that are meant to belittle someone or something. Then all the sheep are asked to hit the like icon, to prove that they are just as big a sore ass, as all the other minions. I imagine a dislike icon would really upset the applecart.
Wannabe Televangelist, and political pundits are the most irksome with their holier than thou attitudes. Not to mention other silly little things. For example, hit like if you enjoy a sunny day.
So to my dour Facebook friends, forget about being politically correct and lighten up a little and try not to be like W.C. Fields who once said “I am free of all prejudice, I hate everyone equally”
But on the bright side I really enjoy it when people post photos. Relate little tidbits of what is going on in their lives and actually have original thoughts.
Moving on to more mundane things, two years in a row a flock of Robins swooped down on my Holly shrubs and denuded them of red berries. Sadly there was a meager crop this year as an unseasonably warm spell last spring forced the plants to bloom prematurely and the return to normal temperatures did not bode well for the bulk of the crop. So the Robins did not have a feast. The oddity of this is both years they arrived on the same day as the Patriots were performing their Swan song. I suppose if I was a real die hard fan, I
would uproot these villainous shrubs.
One morning last week it was one below as I ventured out for my morning walk. The boards on my deck made a load cracking noise with every step. So I was shocked when I looked out into the glooming, and saw a buck standing there. He turned waved his flag at me and was gone. As I proceeded on my walk, I thought to my self what a delightful way to start the day. Because everything was frozen I decided to let my curiosity get the best of me and go off the beaten path to a swampy area that was usually impossible to walk in.
By now it was broad daylight. I will not mention how cold I felt. As everybody knows all my lame old adages. Suddenly I heard the old familiar sound of Beagles baying on the trail of a rabbit. (My friend John, called it singing) I stood still and shortly a rabbit came loping by. Taking his time and looking over his shoulder ever now and then. Suddenly the baying grew louder and the rabbit decided to boot it, and that was the last I saw of him. Suddenly two beautiful Beagles came into view, scurrying from side to side sniffing everything in sight, and then they were gone. I never did see their master or them again, but it sure was enjoyable while it lasted.

As much as I hate the winter, something like this could only happen on a winter day

Acrobatic Pests

It’s January and cabin fever is a perfect adage for what ails me. Lack of sunshine and daylight is very depressing to me., I try to keep up my regular walking routine but dressing properly is something that escapes me. I am either sweating my ass off or freezing. This of course takes all the enjoyment out of gadding about.
I thus spend more time in the house dressed up like Nanook of the north as I try to keep Unitil’s utility meters from emulating pinwheels.
This also ushers in my yearly conflict with the bushy tailed rodents know as squirrels. I have battled with these little acrobatic pests at my bird feeders for many years. How anyone could prefer Rocky J. Squirrel over the loveable Bugs Bunny is beyond me. This year I decided that I was getting a little to old to going running around my backyard like a deranged Elmer Fudd, chasing the elusive Rocky away from my feeders. My plan was simple I would create a squirrel feeding station away from the bird feeding station and every one would be happy.
How wrong I was. Not only did it create a much bigger dilemma it also proved to my way of thinking that yes, Bugs is intelligent and Rocky is stupid. Or as Bugs would say Rocky is a real maroon!
I hung the squirrel food on the rail fence that the two backyard squirrels use as their super highway. This being the normal route they use to make plundering raids on my bird feeding stations. For almost a week they blew right past the cornucopia of squirrel delicacies that I had provided for them. Little did I know that these greedy little buggers where so afraid that one of the poor little Chickadee’s might get a seed that they were ignorant of anything else happening in their domain. So I had to more or less stick their noses into their own feeding station. I slathered a mixture of peanut butter and sunflower seeds on the rail right above their catered feast. That day as they sped along the rail and stepped into the peanut butter it dawned on the morons that there was something there that could dine on with out have to hang by their tail at a contorted angle trying to pilfer a tiny seed.
As an avid backyard gardener and lover of the woods there is only two things that I could have done over the years that was stupider than setting out a squirrel feeding station. One would be planting invasive bamboo in a flower bed and the other was a having a wrestling match with a lady friend in a patch of poison ivy. And looking back that would be a stretch because the squirrel feeding station was a much worst disaster. Now it seems as though every gray squirrel with in a thirty mile radius has heard that the buffoon at 39 Norman road is this year’s patsy and has moved into my back yard. And of course that means they can not all be at the squirrel feeder at once. So my bird feeders are really under siege
My friend Bugs must be shaking his head in amazement or disgust at this years patsy!
I should not omit another humbling winter experience. My son-in-law Patrick completely kicked all the other Lemp’s asses in the annual college football pool. Let’s just hope this modestly shy and humble lad does not need to go out and purchase new hats because of it.
At my age I should not be wishing the time to fly by, but the way this winter is progressing the next seventy six days look like an eternity.