Clowning around
Tim Torkildson remembers: “Subject: Bread pudding.
“When I was 18, I joined Ringling Brothers Circus as a First of May, a new clown.
“I was paid $125 per week, out of which union dues, linen service, and roomette rental were taken. It also cost a quarter to take the show bus to and from the arena in each town. I had to provide my own food, costumes, makeup, and clown props. That left little to spend on wine, women, and song; just enough for a Dixie cup of seltzer while I listened to Tammy Wynette singing ‘Stand By Your Man’ on a jukebox for a quarter.
“When the show reached New York City in April of 1972, to play Madison Square Garden, I found the inflated price of a meal in the Big Apple to be pauperizing. The show would be at the Garden for the next three months, and it appeared likely that the wolf at my door would soon invite himself in as a permanent, nonpaying guest.
“Lucky for me, an old clown, Swede Johnson, told me about the Greek Joint. Across the street from the Garden, by the old post office, it served a huge bowl of bread pudding for 75 cents. But you had to get there by 11 each morning; otherwise it would be sold out.
“This bread pudding was heavenly. It had a yellow hue and was chock-a-block with buxom raisins; a creamy white syrup, chastely sweet but not cloying, kissed the top of each serving. I got it To Go each morning, and nibbled on it contentedly all through the day to assuage my hunger pangs. After the evening show, a few of us First of Mays would share a taxi down to Chinatown for a tub of chicken chow mein — divvied five ways, the cost of the ride and the meal was about $2.50 each.
“That’s how I survived my three months on $125 a week in New York City. I grew to love that Greek Joint. I’m sorry that memory no longer provides me with the name of the place. The counter was always crowded three deep, and the clamor was ear-popping. Even though I yearned to sink my teeth into their souvlaki, oozing with yogurt cucumber sauce, my budget just would not allow it. But I never grew tired of that glorious bread pudding. Every season that we played New York thereafter, I could be found each morning at the counter of the Greek Joint, elbowing my way to the front for an order of bread pudding To Go. Sometimes the men behind the counter, big burly mustachioed specimens as brusque as snapping turtles, would take pity on my lean wolfish look and toss in whatever happened to be lying around extra on the counter: a sour pickle, a plastic container of feta cheese, or a large scrap of fried lukániko sausage. Those guys were all right; they helped keep me from being able to count my own ribs at night.
“I’ve never found bread pudding as good as theirs anywhere else. It’s mostly served at buffet-style restaurants like Golden Corral or Chuck Wagon out here in Utah, where I now live. It’s a caramelized mess, drowned in a gluey brown syrup; I can barely stomach more than two or three helpings. Just for old times’ sake, y’know . . .”
The aftermath
The Doryman of Prescott, Wisconsin: “Subject: She persevered!
“You may recall my contribution about the flimsy fly swatter that I bought recently. This is a picture of it after its first real battle. It was no tap-and-scoop skirmish. This was tooth-and-nail war. The Runabout vs. The Wasp was fought this weekend. ‘She who fears wasps’ was victorious, but the evidence of a massive adrenaline dump is visible in the photo.”
The sign on the road to the cemetery said “Dead End”
Closetocrazy: “Subject: The sign says it all.
“A random corner in Oshkosh, Wisconsin.
“Enjoy!”
The best State Fair in our state!
Bloomington Bird Lady: “Subject: Fair memories.
“Going to the Fair was a unique experience for me as a kid. Being from a small town, I’d never seen that many people at once — not nearly so many as those wall-to-wall crowds from this year. Back in the ’30s, we could park on the Fairgrounds, sit on the grass near our old Chevy and have a picnic that we had brought along. Usually we had visiting relatives from Massachusetts with us. Having been raised in Minnesota, they still loved the Fair. Being very frugal people with no kids of their own, their part of the picnic would be a large container of iced tea, and homemade sandwiches. No fun Fair food for us!
“They knew I’d like the merry-go-round, so it was off to the Midway. At that time, most of the rides were pretty tame, except for the Ferris wheel. My uncle bought me an ice cream cone while we waited for the merry-go-round to stop, and as we waited (rides were longer then), I started to lick the vanilla ice cream . . . whoops! It was gone, dropped down at my feet. I didn’t dare say anything, and my lack of the important part of the cone went unnoticed for a long time, down there in the dirty sawdust at my feet. Recently I saw that beloved merry-go-round at Como Park — still looking wonderful, as it’s been restored.
“The Ye Old Mill ride was exactly the same back then — except I was with my mom, not realizing that it was meant for guys and gals to have a little time alone as they bumped along in an old-fashioned boat in almost total darkness. I hope they never update that ride; Birdman and I have pleasant memories: a couple in their 80s, alone in the dark, mostly resting our feet!”
Our pets, ourselves
Vapid in Vadnais: “I read about the adventures of Jasper, the prodigious canine leaper, and my first thought was to be glad he was OK. After that, it’s just like when your kids do something stupid. You want to slap some sense into them. Of course you can’t.
“You may remember my previous dog, Megan, who died last October. Mostly amiable and patient, she had one big fear, so large that it sent her to her kennel to hide. An errant fly buzzing in the house terrified her. I adopted her when she was 4 and don’t really know much of her background, except that she came from Duluth and was taken away from her family because they refused to fence or confine their dogs. Her running buddy was a Shepherd mix. The first time the dogs were captured, the family bailed them out of doggy jail. The second time, Megan was sent here to St. Paul. I have thought that perhaps she had been bitten by enough flies that she associated the bite with the buzz. We’ll never know.
“Anyway, after she died, the house was far too empty, and I adopted Tate. He is an 11-pound wonder who believes he can bully a UPS truck. He darted out the front door (unexpectedly, as he had not tried it before) and took off after the brown beast that had just pulled away. I was barefoot, and I’m OTD, but gamely set off after him. Of course, he couldn’t hear me, but I kept repeating his name. Truck made a right into the street adjacent, and I cut through the yards, beginning to curse under my breath. By the time I caught up to the truck, the driver was just pulling away. I thought ‘Oh, phooey, now what?’ and before I could act, there came Tate wagging his stump tail and grinning like a madman. I could almost hear him bragging: ‘See, Mom? I chased the big brown truck, and the man drove away. It was too big to bring home to you.’
“I was very lucky that he didn’t get hit (the little snot). He was very proud of himself.”
Keeping your eyes open
Or: Mixed messages
Newport Reader: “Maybe it was to avoid the sun, but today I found myself looking more at the pavement. Twice I saw manhole covers with the words ‘Sanitary Sewer’! Certainly an oxymoron!”
Ah, the smell of it!
Or: Know thyself!
IGHGrampa writes: “I must be a little goofy. In the sale circulars in my morning paper, I found some of those little square perfume sampler ads. ‘Ho ho!’ I said with pleasure. I love those little circulars. I make a small ritual of opening them and pulling the perfumed part apart to take in the scents. One was ‘MONT BLANC Modern fragrance for a passionate and confident man.’ The next was ‘DKNY floral fragrance with a modern feminine edge.’ The third was ‘OUI,’ with a picture of four pretty young women. See what I mean?
“I suppose the appearance of those little circulars and the opening of that Christmas store at the Mall of America indicates a change of season. I’ll have to visit Gerten’s soon to see if they have any Christmas stuff out.”
Then & Now
Or: Know thyself!
Silver Haired Fox of Almelund, Wis.: “When I was 10 years old, my family moved to a house with five acres of land. What I really liked was that it included an apple orchard with lots of apple trees. Oh, what fun! I loved climbing those trees.
“Over the years, I would occasionally climb interesting trees. When I was about 50 years old, I looked at a neighbor’s maple tree and thought: I bet I could climb that tree — and sure enough, I could. I climbed quite high when all of a sudden I heard the neighbor lady yell: ‘Get out of that tree. What are you trying to do — kill yourself?’
“That was the end of my fun. I got down from the tree, and that was the end of my tree climbing.
“When we go in the car and I see a tree in some yard that looks great for climbing, I wish I were still young and not 79 years old.”
Gee, our old La Salle ran great!
The Happy Medium: “Subject: Back to the Time We Went to Town to Watch a Movie from Middle to Middle.
“Growing up in rural Wisconsin in the ’40s and ’50s, we didn’t have the array of communication gadgets we now have at our fingertips. We owned a console radio that was our door to the outside world. We didn’t own a television set until 1951. You wouldn’t believe it, but we did live a good life without Twitter, texting, e-mail, iPods, etc., etc., etc.
“We did enjoy the adventure of going to the movies in a neighboring town. Most of the times, the movie was a Western. My brother drove, and he loved Westerns. Mom gave him the money for our theater tickets. Because chores had to be done first, we seldom saw a movie from the beginning to the end. We, as well as other rural Wisconsin children, were allowed to stay through the movie to the end, wrapping around to its beginning and back to the movie’s middle.
“It wasn’t until I had a job in St. Paul that I could experience a movie from start to finish instead of from middle to middle.”
CAUTION! Words at Play!
Friendly Bob of Fridley: “A friend sent me some funny signs (mostly puns) posted in front of a community center in Colorado. Here are a couple of my favorites:
“I SCREAM
“YOU SCREAM
“THE POLICE COME
“IT’S AWKWARD
“WHEN YOU’RE DOWN
“BY THE SEA
“AND AN EEL
“BITES YOUR KNEE
“THAT’S A MORAY
“Speaking of puns, I heard they are doing a remake of a 1985 James Bond film, specifically for vegans: ‘A View to a Kale.’
“I will go away now.”
Band Name of the Day: A Lot of Hot Sauce