Back to Basics

It’s amazing and wonderful to live in this age of such great technical achievement. I can sit down at my computer and send messages to any place on Earth. If I so desire, I can board an airplane and actually go to those places. We cruise along, fat, dumb, and happy, until something jerks us back to basics and real life. Many Americans cannot put an egg on their breakfast plate this morning. Sunnyside up or scrambled, it ain’t gonna happen until this bird flu mess is cleaned up.

Dave Thomas

2/27/2025

Decision Time

Stand up for America and democracy! Don’t let them destroy us! This year is as important as 1776.

Dave Thomas

2/20/25

We may not see eye to eye this morning. I’ll eventually get the point but will provide some background first. The time period would have been between 1944 and 1946. I don’t remember exactly.

Intermediate School in Augusta, Kansas held the 3^rd, 4^th, and 5^th grades. It was a 3-story brick building that had been the high school until the early 1920’s when the new high school was built. The stairway from the first to the second floor was pretty steep and was 12 to 15 wooden steps. We were told constantly not to run on the stairs as too many people could be hurt if one happened to fall.

The Intermediate School occupied the west end of a city block. The Elementary School (Grades K, 1^st, and 2^nd) occupied the east end of the block. For some strange reason, there were three residential homes on the south side of the block. Two of them faced Columbia Street, and the third one was on the southwest corner facing State Street and Columbia. One of these homes, a 2 story, was owned by Mrs. Ana Wright, the mother of my great aunt, Rachel (Wright) Peebler. I always called Ana Wright “Grandma Wright.”

The principal of our school was Mr. Wilson. I knew Mr. Wilson pretty well as he roomed with Grandma Wright. To get to work, all he had to do was go out the back door, take a dozen steps and he was in the school yard.

On the day of our story, I made the dumb mistake of running up the stairs when returning from recess. Mr. Wilson was standing at the top of the stairs and stopped me and pulled me aside. He told me that when school was out to come straight to his office. I worried about that for the rest of the day. Foolishly, I hoped that since I knew Mr. Wilson so well that I wouldn’t be punished.

Now, we are getting to the point of the story where you may not agree with me. When I and 5 other “hoodlums” got to the office, we were told to line up single file. Mr. Wilson was sitting in a chair and holding a razor strop. For those of you not familiar with it, a razor strop was a piece of leather used to sharpen the old straight razors. It was approximately 4 inches wide, 18 inches long, and ¼ inch thick with one end trimmed to serve as a handle. Mr. Wilson informed us that our infractions had earned us a swat with the strop. We were to come to him one at a time and bend over, and he would issue the punishment. I marched up to him, bent over, and took my lickin’. The swat hurt for a few seconds. Then the pain went away, but the memory didn’t. I’ve always been a guy that followed the rules. Knowing that my parents would be disappointed and being disappointed in myself was humiliating. We didn’t have time-outs back then. I contend that a swat on the butt is just what a rambunctious boy needs. I don’t think that a time-out would be remembered, but the swat has been burned into memory.

Dave Thomas

2/13/2025

The news programs last week were telling about the painting of Mona Lisa by Da Vince being moved to a new location in the Louvre. The new location would make it possible for more people to see her and would also offer more protection from deterioration. We were fortunate to get to see her in the year 2000. Pat and I had planned a trip to Paris and London, and our grandson, Jeff, had just graduated from high school, so we took him along as a graduation present. The picture is interesting, and I am glad to have seen it.

Thinking of museums and art reminds me of two other former works that I was lucky enough to see. In June of 1944, when I was seven years old, we were on a vacation in Los Angeles. My granddad lived in L.A. and had gone back to Kansas to visit his Dad, his siblings, and us. When he returned home, he stopped in Augusta and picked us up. My dad, mom, and sister, Sylvia, and I were going to L.A. for a vacation. When we got there, Grandpa took us all over the city to see the sights. One day, we went a few miles to the city of San Marino to the Huntington Art Gallery. Besides the art, the garden behind it was also a famous attraction. Kids under 12 weren’t allowed in the gallery, so Sylvia and I were told to look around the garden while the grownups went inside. After a short time, Mom came out and took us into the gallery. There was no admission charge, but a uniformed guard stopped us and told us we were too young. Mom said she realized that, but she couldn’t bear the idea of us missing a chance to see “Blue Boy” and “Pinkie.”  After a little back and forth talk, the guard told mom we could only go for a quick peek. “Blue Boy,” painted in 1794 by Thomas Gainsborough, was the first we came to and I remember his blue clothing being very blue and very well done. We had to go around a corner to see “Pinkie” which was painted in 1770 by Thomas Lawrence.

We have visited many galleries and seen many beautiful paintings. I feel most comfortable with pictures of the southwest. The people, the desert, and the mountains all give a good feeling.

Dave Thomas

2/6/2025

National Emergency

-We have a national emergency at our southern border. We are being overrun by people looking for jobs and a safe place to raise their kids.

-Here’s a question for those of you who could have voted but didn’t bother. What the hell is wrong with you???

Dave Thomas

1/30/2025

Sharing

Pat’s regular crow family doesn’t ordinarily let outsiders share their breakfast. Recently, though, when Pat gives the “caw caw caw caw” call, and the crows fly in or come down from the trees, two sparrows have been joining in. The crows don’t mind sharing. When they eat an English walnut or a peanut, they hold it down with their foot while they peck at it with their beak. There are always plenty of crumbs, and that’s what the sparrows clean up. Everyone gets fed, and there is no mess left behind.

Community Breakfast

Pat served an equal opportunity breakfast this morning. There were 17 crows, 1 sparrow, and 2 seagulls. There must be some changes in the food sources. The weather has been pretty bad this past week. We’ve had the Santa Ana winds, some rain, and lower temperatures. The scavenging must be pretty tough.

Dave Thomas

1/30/2025

It was the summer of 1956. I had been working two jobs but had quit the one at Howard Motors, our local Chevrolet/Buick dealer. I kept my job as the projectionist at the Augusta Drive-In Theater and planned to just enjoy working nights. I did want to stay in shape, so I went down to Penley’s Hardware and bought an axe. Three or four days a week I went down to the Walnut River and got some exercise working with the axe. Every flood would uproot trees and send them floating down the river. Wherever an eddy or an obstruction occurred, the trees would get caught and pile up until the next flood came along. It looked pretty bad, so I would get in there with my trusty axe and trim off the branches and let them and the trunks float on down the river.  It was good exercise, and I enjoyed it a lot. I also took along a 35mm camera and took pictures of anything of interest.

One day, I decided to go up to Skaer’s Farm and go horseback riding. They had a couple of saddle horses for their kids that hadn’t been getting enough exercise because the kids, Delores and Stanley were too busy. Bill Skaer told me I could ride the horses whenever I wanted, so I did, and then paid him back by mucking out the milking barn for a couple of days.

 One day, after saddling up, I decided to cut across a pasture to another road so I could see something different for a change. It was a warm, sunny day, and I must have been daydreaming or half asleep. As we went over a small rise, I was suddenly confronted by Bill Skaer’s personal horse. He was a big devil, half-Percheron or some kind of draft horse and half quarter horse. Though his front legs were hobbled, he was coming fast with his teeth bared. He nipped my horse on the rump. My horse was scared. He was dancing around and bucking a little. As my horse went nuts, he was moving around, and we got a better angle on the other horse. Suddenly, my horse let fly with both hind hooves and nailed the big horse right in the ribs. Next, my horse took off running. It seemed like a good idea, so I just headed him toward the gate.

The last part of this story is kind of funny and anti-climactic. Some time later (weeks?), there was a parade that may have been a 4^th of July parade. As the parade came down State Street, there was Bill, astride this giant horse, and he was as relaxed and easy in the saddle as a guy could be. This horse was well-behaved and acting like a good citizen. Maybe he just hadn’t liked a dumb kid riding  through his pasture.

Dave Thomas 1/23/25

Our crow friends respond to the changes noted on the calendar. By that, I mean the changes in time, the holidays, the seasons, and the weather. They were arriving at the house at 6:45 AM, but now are coming between 7:15 and 7:45. This, of course, has to do with the dawn and sun-up.

During the holidays, we sometimes didn’t see any crows for several days. We figured they had found alternate and, perhaps, better food sources. Due to the holiday meals, we figured that homes and restaurants would have more waste food in their trash cans and dumpsters. Though they weren’t showing up for breakfast, our regular group consisting of Lamefoot, Bouncer, and Clucker made it a point to stay in touch with Pat. They would come at different times during the day and fly low past the windows so Pat would see they had arrived. They would land near our front door and wait for Pat. They would listen to her stories and give their own reports and then fly away. There was no begging for food. This was just a social call.

Here’s another little story about the crows’ dining habits. A couple of people we know decided to stop for coffee at McDonald’s. They had a window seat and were able to see a trash can near the back of the building. A crow in search of a meal landed on the trash can and was looking around. There was a small box on top of the trash that apparently was covering up some choice items. Using its beak, the crow moved the box out of the way and feasted on what he found. With access to the food, he ate his fill and then took hold of the box and put it back in its original position.

The holidays are past, and the weather is several degrees cooler. The crows are coming more often. The groups are larger now also. From the original group of 3, we are now seeing 5, 9, 12 or 15 at a time. We assume these are members of the extended family. Outsiders are driven away.

Crows are omnivores and will eat anything that doesn’t eat them first. The cooler weather has probably caused a reduction in the number of bugs and small creatures that are normally part of their diet. We hope they all survive the winter okay.

Dave Thomas

1/16/2025

Fancy Meeting You Here

Pat went to the grocery store the other morning. As she pulled into the parking lot, she saw a crow sitting on the roof of the store. The crow had been quiet but when Pat got out of the car it started jabbering like crazy. That told Pat it was one of her crow friends and, being surprised to see her, it was just saying hello.

He Came Bouncing Back

Bouncer is back! Pat hadn’t seen him for over two weeks and was quite worried about him. Bouncer is one of only three crows that are easily identified. Pat gets concerned if one of them doesn’t show up.  She looked out the window this morning and there he was, bouncing around on the driveway like his skinny little legs were spring loaded.

Up, Up and Away

Have been listening to a fascinating book on CD. In The Company of Crows and Ravens by Tony Angell and John M. Marzluff is crammed full of information about these birds.  

I have become acquainted with a new word while enjoying this story.  Anthropomorphism is the act of attributing human-like qualities to non-human entities. I wish the practice was distributed in a more equitable way. We humans should have received some of the crow- like traits. I personally would like to be able to fly.

Dave Thomas

1/8/2025

I’m 88 years old, almost 88 ½. For some strange reason, this song from my childhood popped into   my head this morning and it won’t go away. It’s as hard to get rid of as the chiggers themselves.

If you are not familiar with chiggers, they are little green bugs that live in the grass. When you walk through the grass, they jump on you and go up the inside of your pant legs, bite you and bury themselves under the skin. It takes a lot of rubbing and scratching to get any relief from them.

Here’s the song:

There was a little chigger

that wasn’t any bigger

than the wee small head of a pin.

But the bump that he raises

Itches like the blazes

and that’s where the rub comes in!

Oh, the rub, yes, the rub!

That’s where the rub comes in!

The bump that he raises

Itches like the blazes

And that’ where the rub comes in.        

Dave Thomas

1/2/2025