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Do you remember those phone calls home, the ones you made after ‘leaving the nest’ for the first time? I do, and from a pay phone.  My sister remembers, too, offering sentiments recently that it would be nice to make those calls, again. But, we can’t, of course.

I remember the calls and can ‘see’ it in my mind’s eye. Mother would answer, as the official ‘answerer’, and in a soft voice, I’d hear, “Hello?”, in a questioning way.

“Mother, it’s me, Stephen!”

“Oh, Stephen, hello!”

The uncertainty was gone and the enthusiasm returned, once she knew who it was.

We’d talk and she would hand the phone to my father, nearby, and we’d talk some more, often repeating myself, a bit louder each time. I could sense the ‘changes’.

Remember asking to reverse the charges? She always accepted them. Long distance calls weren’t cheap so we limited the frequency and duration.

Over time, the phones changed, cords went away and buttons replaced dials. The nature of the calls changed, too, from ‘just called to talk’ to ‘how are you feeling’. Eventually, with time passing, so do the people you love…the calls stopped.

Yesterday, the old family telephone number flashed into my memory, Pleasant-48756.  Don’t know why, but it did, and it opened a floodgate of memories, good memories.

Initially, our number was just five digit characters, 48756, but as telephone service demand grew, so did the creativity of assigning numbers, longer numbers, with letters.

The phone was ‘anchored’ on a small living room table, the ‘phone table’.  It was a cumbersome black unit with a circular number scheme in a dial fôrmat, corded to the wall. More importantly, the mouth/ear piece was corded to the base, and cradled on it when not in use. You never lost the phone because it was ‘anchored’ in the same spot for years.

The telephone kept families connected. Every bit of emotion could be sensed over the lines.  Good news and bad news was delivered over the telephone, by voice. We made plans and had private rendezvous with special friends. Of course, with the phone anchored to a spot, that privacy was problematic.

We all have mobile phones now, several to a family. No need to remember the numbers, just ask the phone to call by name. You can send text messages and avoid speaking to the other party.  Play games and music and get easily distracted by the new phone capabilities.  You can even wear the phone like a watch, well, it is a watch, too.  Yes, we’ve come that far.  Progress, I guess.

But it sure would be nice to make those old calls, again. We can’t, of course…

“Hey, Siri, dial Pleasant 48756….. for the Hell of it!”

Steve (srbottch.com)

For my sister, June

After high school graduation and between college semester breaks, summertime found me working for my dad’s painting company. Truth be told, I did little actual painting. But there were plenty of other tasks to support the real journeymen painters, low skilled tasks that a ‘college kid’ could easily master; scraping, sanding, dusting and hauling, to name a few. I abhorred it.

However, I did get an ‘education’ on hard work and found one task that was simple and perfectly suited to my teenage laziness, the ‘runner’.

When it was mid morning break time, I collected the painters’ money and went for their food and drink, generally coffee and a sweet roll, or donut. The workers’ break was 10 minutes by union rules, but for me, it was a good 30 to 45 minutes, because I was the ‘runner’.

I became familiar with the likes and dislikes of the men on the jobs, and listened attentively to their ‘sage’ advice. Naturally, I ignored it, I was a ‘college kid’.

“Drink coffee, and drink it black, it’ll put hair on your chest!”

Coffee was not part of my regimen, then, and I already had some hair on my chest, at least it was starting, so the suggestion didn’t sway me.

I often heard the same admonition from my ‘old school’ father when I was a kid; “eat it (drink it, take it), it’s good for you, and it’ll put hair on your chest”, my father would urge. Why would a ten year old kid want hair on his chest?

Eventually, I joined the throng of coffee drinkers. It wasn’t the macho world of laboring men who got me started, however. My caffeine fix began with ‘Gussie’, my future mother-in-law, who always had a pot of coffee brewing in her kitchen.

The aroma of percolating coffee, aaahhhh, it was addicting and ‘Gussie’ drank it black.

There’s a certain intoxication in that very aroma, isn’t there? And, if it could only taste as good as it smelled, with no additives, then black would be my choice, as well.

Years later, my sales job reinforced the black option. On the road several days a week, coffee became a staple of my morning routine and a stimulant during day time drive times. Who has time to mix in a creamer or sugar packet when you’re hustling to an appointment? Pull in to the fast food drive-thru, order, pay, then grab ‘n go.

I still drink coffee, black. And, yes, I have hair on my chest. ‘Gussie ‘ is gone for many years, now. And, if your wondering, I never asked…and she never mentioned ‘it’.

Steve

To coffee drinkers everywhere…especially, ‘Gussie’

March 2019

“Double your pleasure, Double your fun, ………..

Do you remember this rhyme from an old television commercial?  Usually, there were a couple of twin girls who sang the jingle.  If you can finish it, then you’re of a certain generation.

Many people watched the Super Bowl for the entertainment pleasure of the ads as much as the actual game. Over the years, the Super Bowl has rewarded us with some of the best advertising money can buy, as millions of dollars were spent on brief but entertaining commercials.

This year’s Super Bowl ads, for the most part, were disappointing for message and humor. The Doritos ad with Chance the Rapper and The Backstreet Boys was pretty good, but other than that, ‘Meh’!

However, outside the Super Bowl, there have been some catchy ads over the years that are seared in our memories for both content and entertainment. Let’s have some fun, see if you can fill in the blanks of some of the old time ads. I’m sure you can do it…before looking at the answers.

1. Winston taste good ………

2. Please don’t ………. the Charmin

3. Fill it to the rim ………

4. Go Greyhound, and ……….

5. You’re in good hands ……….

6. Lucky Strike means ……….

7. Brylcreem, a little dab will do ya, ……….

8. See the USA ……….

9. Maxwell House coffee, Good ……….

10. Takes a lickin’ and ……….

Coffee commercials were very popular years ago and cigarette ads dominated the airwaves until they were banned.

Remember Wendy Hamburger’s line and the Little old lady who shouted, “Where’s the beef?” Everyone was saying it. Miller beer advertised their lite beer with a theme, ‘less filling, tastes great’. Celebrities would humorously debate which it was.

Can you think of some old time goodies? Sure you can, give us one or two and your score.

ANSWERS:

1. like a cigarette should! (cigarettes)

2. squeeze (toilet paper)

3. With Brim (decaffeinated coffee)

4 and leave the driving to us (bus company)

5. with Allstate (insurance)

6. Fine Tobacco (cigarettes)

7. Use more only if you dare (watch out, the gals will all persue ya, they love to get their fingers in your hair) (men’s hair cream)

8. In your Chevrolet (General Motors)

9. to the last drop!

10. keeps on tickin’ (Time watch)

How did you do?

srbottch.com (Feb 2019)

PS. ‘…Chew Doublemint, Doublemint, Doublemint gum!’

Photo of planet Venus (tiny spec) above town high school 12/20/18

The students and I have been fortunate to have the planet Venus looking down at us as we make our way to school, or, as in my case, do my school crossing duties.

It’s dark enough in the morning to easily see this planet, the second in our Solar System and about 50,000,000 miles from earth at this time.

It’s presence offered us an opportunity to talk about the planets, the 8 major ones, and we listed them. Of course, these kids generally knew about poor Pluto being downgraded from a major to a sub planet because of its size.

The exciting part of working with kids is their genuine interest in the world around them because they’re discovering new things that we adults often take for granted. Also, it reminds us of what it was like to be a kid at one time.

Wherever you are, look up, down and around your own environment. Then, share your discoveries with others and get them excited, too.

Steve

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“He that hath a beard is more than a youth, and he that hath no beard is less than a man.”

Shakespeare, ‘Much Ado About Nothing’

I had them all; sideburns in the 60s, a moustache in the 70s, a beard in the 80s. And why not? The paucity of hair on my head offered few options for style change, but the face was another matter. I could grow it there, and I did.

The sideburns were fun as an accessory to my bell bottom pants in the late 60s. I took a moustache into the Army in the early 70s, but shaved it off when a corporal ‘advised’ me of ‘the policy’ on facial hair, none 1 inch above the lip or 1 inch below the nose. Of course, there was no policy, there was harassment. But who was I, a raw recruit, to argue?

The beard came last in the 80s, as a means to draw attention away from the rapidly disappearing hairline. It seemed to work, but after ten years, as the gray dominated, I shaved it off. Wow, I looked like a kid, again. Have you ever noticed that about men who shave off their beards, they look more youthful?

Now, here it is, about three decades later, and beards are in vogue, again, but with a twist. Men are not growing full beards, yet they aren’t shaving regularly, either. The two, three or four-day growth look is the rage.

A suit and tie, slacks and open collar dress shirt, jeans and t-shirt, flannels, the unshaven look goes well with them all. Like any new fashion, this ‘stubble’ look took some getting used to, but it’s here, and it’s cool (is ‘cool’ used anymore?).

Yes,  I’ve tried it and I like it. I don’t like beards on high schoolers, it seems a bit precocious. But I do like the unshaven look on adult men. Of course, I’m retired, so I’d probably do it regardless of fashion. But now I have an excuse to leave the razor on the shelf. And just to be more daring, I might try those skinny pants that are fashionable. Age be damned, I’m going for it, turning back the clock.  Who’s with me?

There was an old man with a beard, who said: ‘It is just as I feared! Two owls and a hen, four larks and a wren have all built their nests in my beard.

Edward Lear

Steve

August 2018
stephen.bottcher@gmail.com
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As ‘bar flies’ go, our group is not your ordinary ‘flies’.  Going out for a beer, or two, every five or six weeks is not what bonafide ‘flies’ do.  But, when the time rolls around for us to have a night out and ‘howl at the moon’, there’s no limit to our enthusiasm, ‘flies’ or not. And Caverly’s Irish Pub, a corner bar in Rochester’s ‘Southwedge’, is our favorite.

The real ‘bar flies’ already had their elbows ‘dug’ in and ‘locked’ onto the bar when we arrived,  guffawing the evening away with idle chatter, each beer bringing more guffaws and louder chatter. Not our ‘cup of tea’, we’re here for some sophisticated and sober conversation. Believe me!

The five of us walked our beers to the round table by the screened front door, a spot that might offer a rare breeze on a humid July evening,  and allow us to greet the ‘bar dog’ when it ambled in, and it always did.

As is customary, our evening began with a toast to new and lasting friendships. Coincidentally, a new friend, another neighbor, joined us this evening, passing our simple standards of being retired and looking for idle conversation while enjoying a beer with friends.

Friendship was our theme tonight, as we quaffed beers and recalled what Bruce Springsteen coined, ‘the glory days’ of working, hanging out and growing up with others our age whom we called our best friends. And when ‘old men’ talk about those times, the eyes light up, the voices come alive, and the enthusiasm needle moves off the charts. Tonight was no exception.

As a kid laboring in Connecticut tobacco fields, or a farmboy building a speedboat in a cellar of his New York farmhouse, or a band of boys running the streets of a coal mining town in eastern Pennsylvania, our stories carried us back to a simpler time. The names weren’t recalled easily and the smiles belied the hardships of those days, but as it always does, our memory filter remembers those earlier times with buddies as the best of times. Tobacco still grows in Connecticut, the boat sank, was salvaged, then disappeared with time, and the boys of eastern Pennsylvania abandoned the hard life streets of coal towns for greener pastures.

The Caverly barmaid surprised us with a serving of blueberry scones while feigning regret that there wasn’t a bachelor among our good looking group. Nevertheless, we soaked up the flatter willingly and washed down the scones with the last of our beer, before strolling to the car, laughing that it took 18 ‘beer nights’ before someone hit on us. Is that a record of sorts?

Outside, some motorcyclists volunteered their bikes for a photo shot but we declined, politely, of course, and cautioned them about the barmaid. But who knows, maybe they’re interested. It’ll make a fine story one day, when they’re having their own ‘glory days’ conversation…

“There is only one thing better then making a new friend, And that’s keeping an old one”   Elmer G Leterman

Steve
July 2018
stephen.bottcher@gmail.com