Bashful Bob

Posted on by

I didn’t imagine it: Bashful Bob’s Motel in Page, Arizona, was a real place, which I called “a real, honest-to-God tourist court” more than a quarter-century ago. I still have a card I picked up when we stayed there in 1997.Bashful Bob's MotelWhen we returned to Page two years ago, the renovated place was the pleasant but less interestingly named, and more expensive, Lake Powell Motel. Bob Wombacher was nowhere to be found. Not a surprise, since he died in 2011.

I suspect, but don’t actually remember, that we met Bob briefly in May ’97, when we checked in. Running an honest-to-God tourist court is (was) usually hands-on work for the proprietor. In our time, someone with a name like Wombacher, if he left any trace at all, can be found on the Internet.

Turns out Bob was more than a tourist court operator. He left a legacy of obscure humorous poetry, according to a curious site called Porkopolis, the “arts, literature, philosophy and other considerations of the pig.” (Which has a page devoted to Arnold Ziffle, I’m glad to say.)

Bob wrote a poem about pigs, or at least referencing pigs. A collection of Bob’s – Rhyme Time – can be found here. It includes such verse as (picked at random for their brevity):

“Just Following Orders”

I step inside my fav’rite store
And spy a cone inside the door.
“Wet floor,” it states, and so I do
Exactly what it tells me to.
Then, rather wishing I had not,
I’m banished to the parking lot.

“All Set”

I’ve saved enough money
To last me for life.
The children are grown;
I don’t have a wife.
I’ve got enough money.
Yes, plenty and then some.
To last me forever.
(At least ’til I spend some.)

“Half-Pint”

It isn’t that I’m little.
I’m just not very tall.
Until I grow,
I’m last to know
When rain begins to fall.

I also wondered: Bashful Bob? I always considered that a just bit of alliterative whimsy on the part of Bob, but I now know there was a song of that name recorded by Bobby Vee. Mainly because I just found out.

Maybe the song title was an inspiration for him. If so, it was still a bit of Bob’s whimsy. Mr. Wombacher seems like the kind of guy to name his business after a teen-idol pop song of an earlier time, just for fun.

Pardon Me Boy, Is That The Des Plaines Choo-Choo?

Posted on by

I’m glad to report that The Choo-Choo, a novelty restaurant in Des Plaines, Illinois, still seems to be open and serving burgers and fries by way of a model train.

I’m not sure the exact year I picked up its card, which isn’t shaped like a conventional business card but is square. I do remember taking Ann there when she was old enough to appreciate the place, but probably not old enough to remember it. So sometime in the mid- to late 2000s.

“The Choo Choo opened its doors nearly 70 years ago, with diners looking for creative ways of creating different dine-in experiences,” according to Classic Chicago Magazine.

“In 1951 original owner James Ballowe and his wife Marilyn wanted to open a business that would be an enjoyable experience for all ages. Ballowe had hoped that The Choo Choo would quickly become popular for both kids and adults.”

Apparently it did. They ran the place until 2000. The current owner is the third, taking over in 2022 after a period of pandemic closure. His name is Dale Eisenberg, who with partner Mike Ventre, runs a similar restaurant – one featuring model train delivery – in Bartlett, Illinois, the 2Toots Train Whistle Grill.

That restaurant was once in Downers Grove, and we took Ann there as well, and probably Lilly, sometime around 2010. I don’t think I have a card from it, which is too bad. These are not, of course, the only such joints anywhere, as this Reddit page illustrates.

He May Ride Forever ‘neath the Streets of Boston

Posted on by

Something I never thought of until today: you can buy booklets to hold fortune cookie fortunes. One at Amazon promises 10 pages that hold 40 fortunes, for $12.99. That came to mind, or rather set me looking, when I happened across another fortune I saved:

Magic time is creale when an unconventional person comes to stay.

I supposed “created” was meant, but in any case that sounds like the pitch for a sitcom episode.

I’m not buying a fortune holder. Those little slips will be tucked away with my business card accumulation: five holders so far, holding some hundred number of cards. Many are restaurant cards, some dating back to the ’80s. Others include a sampling of hotels, museums, shops, even a few churches.

Also, transit cards. I got a kick out of this one.

I used it during my most recent visit to Boston in 2018. Previously the system used metal tokens, but of course those are gone. CharlieTickets and CharlieCards were introduced in 2006.

Charlie was the sad-sack (and poor) protagonist of the song “M.T.A.,” which I know well. That is, the Kingston Trio’s 1959 recording, but not so much about its background. So naturally I had to look into it.

“The text of the song was written in 1949 by Jacqueline Steiner and Bess Lomax Hawes,” writes Jonathan Reed, once a student at MIT. “It was one of seven songs written for [Walter] O’Brien’s campaign, each one emphasized a key point of his platform. [He was running for mayor of Boston that year.]

“One recording was made of each song, and they were broadcast from a sound truck that drove around the streets of Boston. This earned O’Brien a $10 fine for disturbing the peace.”

The Kingston Trio got ahold of it a decade later and it sounds like they had fun with it. Clearly the song endures locally, enough to receive a sort of official recognition by the modern MBTA.

June 23, 1991

Posted on by

Saturday afternoon’s weather was perfect for those of us who like our good weather a little less placid. It was a warm and windy day, but not the sort of heat that is oppressive nor the sort of wind that threatens to blow anything down, just puffs that put leaves and branches in constant motion and mostly keeps mosquitoes away.

Heavy rain had fallen in the wee hours of Saturday, but few puddles survived in the daylight hours. Before midnight, more rain fell, but again on Sunday there was little to show for it. Temps moderated somewhat on Sunday, making for a warm day without much wind. Chamber of commerce weather.

I checked the reverse of this image — where I had make notes — and found to my surprise that it was taken 33 years ago today, at Jay’s house in Dallas.

Left to right, top row, described from my point of view, since I’m the one doing the describing: my uncle Ken, aunt Sue, Kim, my cousin Ralph (Kim was his first wife), my brother Jim, my nephew Robert, my brother Jay, sister-in-law Deb, her mother Eleanore. Left to right, bottom row, not counting the dogs: me, my mother Jo Ann, and nephews Dees and Sam. The dogs are Aloysius, Jay and Deb’s, and Katie, my mother’s, in her lap.

I had just turned 30 and was visiting the U.S. from Japan for the first time since my move, and we all gathered in Dallas. Pretty much the only good reason to visit Dallas in the summer is to see family or friends. Other stops on that trip included Chicago and from there a round-trip drive to Massachusetts for the Fourth of July, to visit friends, by way of Toronto and Niagara Falls.

Five family members in the image have passed away in the interim, seven counting the dogs. I’m not sure about Kim; she and Ralph divorced later. Four people in the photo went on to have (so far) a total of eight children, nine counting a stepchild. That would be me, Ralph, Sam and Dees. Also, the house we were standing in has been torn down and the site redeveloped.

What to say but tempus fugit? One question, though. Who took the picture? I don’t remember anyone else being there.

Hot Summer Thursday Celosia

Posted on by

Hot morning followed by light rain this afternoon, with a push of cool air by the evening. That’s a Northern summer for you – not willing to follow through all those hot days with near-hot nights, not at least for more than a few days at a time. Windows will be cracked open this evening.

I opened a fortune cookie the other day, as one does, and it had no fortune in it. That was a first, maybe. Obviously it means no future for me. Ah, well.

Some years ago, I opened a fortune cookie and it said this: “You are about to become $8.95 poorer ($6.95 if you had the buffet).” That was so funny I kept it, and to this day it’s tucked in with my collection of restaurant cards, though not with any particular restaurant, since I don’t remember where I got it.

I’d like to say that I captured these images of such colorful flowers in the wild, or at least in an elegant garden somewhere, but no.celosia

These celosia and other plants were for sale at the garden section of a major multinational retailer.

I didn’t know anything about celosia (cockscomb), so I looked into it when I got home. Lost Crops of Africa notes that it is edible.

“Despite its African origin (a claim that is not without dispute), celosia is known as a foodstuff in Indonesia and India. Moreover, in the future it might become more widely eaten, especially in the hot and malnourished regions of the equatorial zone. It has already been hailed as the often-wished-for vegetable that ‘grows like a weed without demanding all the tender loving care that other vegetables seem to need.’ ”

Gardenia says of celosia: “Leaves, tender stems, and young flower spikes can be eaten boiled or cooked in sauce or stew with other ingredients. The leaves are a nutritious addition to the vegetable garden. They contain high levels of beta-carotene and folic acid.”

It looks like it is making its way onto overpriced menus as food hipsters discover it.

The Pearl Incident

Posted on by

The run of 90° F. (or so) days will run a little bit longer, see below, but as usual for summer in this part of the world, that kind of streak won’t have the staying power you see in certain other summertime places I’m familiar with, where 100° F. days line up in a seemingly endless array.

A site that sends me email sent a link to a Juneteenth article today with the slightly annoying headline: “5 Black History Landmarks in the U.S. You’ve Probably Never Heard Of.”

At least the publication included “probably.” But I checked, and I’d heard of four of them. Mostly they were not great unknowns. The Ebenezer Baptist Church was on the list, for instance. C’mon.

Still, I will give them their due by informing me of an event I hadn’t heard of: The Pearl Incident, which involved the unsuccessful escape attempt in 1848 by 77 slaves sailing from Washington City on a schooner called The Pearl. There is a plaque noting that fact “in the bricks of Wharf Street,” according to Wharf Life DC.  If I’m ever in the Wharf district in DC, I will look for it.

Still Life With Lincoln Logs and Bottle Caps

Posted on by

I call it “Still Life With Lincoln Logs and Bottle Caps.”Still Life With Lincoln Logs and Bottle Caps

Garage deaccession continues, if I can borrow such a tony word for the process of sorting and disposing and squirrel damage cleanup in the unheated structure toward the back of our lot. The other day I found a bag of Lincoln Logs. A bag of sad, battered logs. Many are cracked and chipped or even partly missing. Also, there are no roof slates. That’s an important thing to go missing.

I’m pretty sure they aren’t my childhood Lincoln Logs, since they were in better shape – I think — and anyway, this feels like a yard-sale acquisition that our daughters never took to, and was quickly forgotten.

Someone glued together two two-notch logs.Still Life With Lincoln Logs and Bottle Caps

If they were trying to get a four-notch log equivalent, they didn’t get it.

I built a simple structure (see above), for old time’s sake. The rest of the logs are now in the trash. Maybe I’ll add the structure to the broken mug and plate midden in one corner of the yard, and let the elements do their work.

RIP, Janan Hanna

Posted on by

Yesterday afternoon was hot and windy, something like a baby sirocco, kicking dust from the baseball field in the park behind our house. Eventually a smattering of rain came, and the wind died down. Not enough rain to soak anything, but toward the end of the day, enough to produce a large, vivid rainbow to the southeast.

Images naturally do its vividness no justice, but I made a few images anyway.rainbow rainbow

Also yesterday I thought about someone I don’t think much about, someone I hadn’t spoken to in over 15 years, when we were both at the funeral of a former coworker we had in common. When the person you think about is a journalist (among other things), it’s easy enough to check to see what she’s written lately, as I occasionally have done over the years. But not in the last two years at least. I know that because, to my shock, I found out she had died in August 2022 at only 59.

Her name was Janan Hanna, and we were close, once upon a time. Throughout 1989, to be specific, just before I left for Japan. RIP, Janan.

Wat Phra That Doi Suthep &c.

Posted on by

Hot weekend, at least for northern Illinois, which means temps touching 90° F. A little early for that, but not too far from the norm. It is summer, after all, never mind the exact date of the solstice.

Not as hot (or steamy) as Thailand 30 years ago. Thirty years? How did that happen? I know, one day at a time. In June 1994 we visited Chiang Mai, in northern Thailand, which we reached by rail from Bangkok. One day during the visit, we took a day trip to Wat Phra That Doi Suthep, as a lot of people do.

Written about a week later:

We were in Chiang Mai until June 21. They say it’s more manageable than Bangkok, but the traffic was every bit as fierce as Bangkok’s, just on a smaller scale, and with a good deal less traffic control, which is saying something. At first getting across any street was a chore, but by the second day it had gotten easier, though never easy.

That day (the 18th) we blew a bunch of money (all of $9) having a songthaew (siitor, sic) take us to Doi Suthep. We could have traveled there for a fraction of that, but the excellent breakfast at Montori – very very good pastries – must have put us in a less tight-fisted mood, and off we went.

Doi Suthep didn’t disappoint: a splendid wat, great and gilded and on a hilltop, up a winding park road.

Only partly up a winding park road. It was then a climb of 300-plus steps to reach the wat. If I were there now, I would think I should have visited 30 years earlier. Good thing I did.Wat Phra That Doi Suthep

The art of gilding at Thai wats is highly advanced. I assume this is one of the wat’s chedi, which tend to be done in gold leaf and contain a chamber for relics.The art of gilding at Thai wats is highly advanced. I assume this is a chedi, which tend to be done in gold leaf and contain a chamber for relics. When you have access to a gong, use it. That's what I always say.

When you have access to a gong, use it. That’s what I always say.

After our visit, the siitor (sic) man talked us into going shopping. We thought about refusing, but were a bit curious. He took us to a silver working shop, an umbrella factory, a lacquerware factory (I almost bought a lacquer egg) and of course a jewelry display room.

I can’t visualize that egg, but if I’d bought it, I’m sure it would be parked in my office even now with other debris from across the decades and continents. I might not even have to turn my head to see it.

Backyard Bunnies

Posted on by

In hopes of keeping the backyard rabbits from eating our budding tomatoes and other summertime plants, Yuriko has been leaving lettuce and carrots out for them. I’m not sure that will work. For one thing, they don’t seem interested. Bugs Bunny might eat carrots, but actual rabbits not so much.

Was Bugs ever seen eating anything else? I’m hardly the only person to ask that important question, and the answer is yes. I remember some of those listed cartoons, especially “Baseball Bugs” and “Hare We Go,” from which I might have learned the term mess, as in a place to eat. As for why carrots were the nosh of choice for Bugs, that was reportedly inspired by Clark Gable eating a raw carrot in It Happened One Night, a detail I’d forgotten.

A family of rabbits now occupy the backyard, including a large adult and two or maybe three juveniles, who are often spotted eating grass. They might live under the deck.

It’s hard to get close enough to them to capture an image. Even at a young age, rabbits are wary critters and fleet of foot. I figure they’ve taken to the yard this year, much more than previously, because there is no dog on patrol any more, and somehow they know it.