It was Mickey Mantle's Fault

Recently, my cousin sent me a Post Cereal TV commercial that dates back to our childhood years. The company had a brilliant plan to get literally thousands of boys (and probably many girls) to put pressure on their moms to buy Post Cereal: What was the enticement? On the back of each box were several baseball cards featuring the stars of the day.

At that particular time in my life, I had outgrown my love of cars, and it would be several more years before I realized girls were something more than strange creatures. So between cars and women, I fell in love with baseball. Back in the day, I could recite each player's height, weight, position, and statistics. For example, etched into my brain forever are Roger Maris's stats for 1961: In 161 games, he officially came to the plate 590 times, hit a then-record 61 home runs, and knocked in 141 runs, while batting .269. To put this into perspective, I don't remember what I had for breakfast this morning. Did I have breakfast? Could it have been Post Cereal? Beats me.

One important rule my siblings and I learned early in life was to follow Dad's commands to the letter. He had a thick leather belt that he was not afraid to use on an offender's backside, and for the most sinister rule-breaking, he would haul out the razor strop. That thing left welts!

Each morning, Dad ate a huge breakfast, but amazingly, he didn't gain any weight. Unfortunately, I didn't inherit those genes. Just walking past a donut shop adds an additional five pounds to my frame. Anyway, while drinking several cups of strong black coffee, he devoured three eggs, three or four pieces of sausage or bacon, and at least a couple of slices of toast. Last but not least, he topped things off with a bowl of cereal.

One was smart not to mess with Dad's food. Being no dummy, I usually followed that rule. Patiently, I would wait until the box of cereal was completely empty before adding the baseball cards on the back of the box to my collection. However, sometimes exceptions must be made.

Many baseball stars of that era were my heroes: Sandy Koufax, Willie Mayes, Hank Aaron, Yogi Berra, Elston Howard, and Rocky Colavito, just to name a few. But my number one hero roamed center field for the Yankees. He had blazing speed and hit some of the longest home runs in Major League history. No one ever hit a fair ball out of the old Yankee Stadium, but this guy once hit a rocket that missed by inches! His name was Mickey Mantle.

The Saturday Baseball Game of the Week, featuring Dizzy Dean and Pee Wee Reese (I love baseball nicknames. My better half has one for me: “Dumb-Dumb”), usually had the Yankees playing against another American League team. Although at this moment I'm having difficulty remembering my wife's birthdate, I recall the normal lineup and batting order for the '61 Yanks: Bobby Richardson, 2B; Tony Kubek, SS; Roger Maris, RF; MICKEY MANTLE, CF; Elston Howard, C; Bill Skowren, 1B; either Yogi Berra or Hector Lopez, LF; Clete Boyer, 3B; the pitcher (There was no such thing as a designated hitter.)

It seemed like a typical day when Mom returned from the grocery store. Like always, among the goodies was a box of Post Cereal, thanks to my constant begging and cajoling. However, flipping the box over, I discovered the most important baseball card of all, a Mickey Mantle! Just like when my better half sees popcorn, I lost control. Grabbing the scissors from the kitchen drawer, I cut Mickey Mantle's card out, hoping Dad would not notice a slight hole in the rear of the box.

The next morning, after drinking a bunch of coffee and eating his eggs and bacon, Dad began to pour himself a bowl of cereal. Unfortunately, he spotted that gaping hole in the back of the box. For some unknown reason, he knew immediately which member of the family had committed this despicable deed.

In no uncertain terms, he read me the riot act. Miraculously, I escaped corporal punishment. In my defense, I had good arguments, but I knew better than to plead my case, for doing so was considered “talking back,” an offense Dad would never tolerate.

Perry Mason would argue that I idealized Micky Mantle so much that I could not help myself. Therefore, this was Mickey Mantle's fault for being such a talented and awe-inspiring athlete. Besides, the cereal box had an inner sack, so the cereal was not going to get stale or fall onto the floor. That's my defense and, after all these years, I'm sticking to it. 

Buying a New Car in 1950

 

Imagine you are an adult living in the year 1950. You hate to admit it, but that old 1939 Dodge is on its last wheels, so off you go to find a new automobile. The good news is that a new car in 1950 cost only between $1,500 and $2,200. The not-so-good news is that the average income in 1950 was approximately $3,300.

First, let's visit Dutro Motors on South Fifth Street. Perhaps you would like to purchase another Dodge: “Coming or Going... again this year THE BIG VALUE IS DODGE! NEW VALUE: New Lighting and design of the instrument panel! Wide landscape windshield...'knee-level' seats add to driving comfort, vision, and safety. NEW VALUE: New Dodge interiors give you generous head and leg room. Huge new rear 'picture window' for safer vision...gives a feeling of spaciousness. NEW VALUE: You'll be thrilled by the smoothness of Dodge Fluid Drive. No-shift Gyro-Matic is optional ...at a moderate extra cost.” (Zanesville News, 1-9-1950.)

Beginning on January 10^th, Bob Miller & Son on Putnam Avenue displayed the new DeSoto: “Here's the best-looking new car of them all! It's the new DeSoto, designed to give you more room, more comfort, more visibility, more safety, and more lasting satisfaction than any other car you've ever owned. Here's the car designed with YOU in mind.

“It lets you drive without shifting. It has a terrific high-compression engine, bigger–than–ever brakes, weatherproof ignition, and feather-light steering. Yet it is excitingly easy to buy and amazingly economical to operate.” (News, 1-9-'50.)

If you haven't yet made a choice, go see the “New Plymouth: (It is) packed with value... and ready to prove it. It's loaded with value - the biggest and best bargain your automobile dollar ever had a chance to buy! It's the new low-priced Plymouth - the car that looks and acts like the high-priced cars.

“In fact, this new car has important features that are not even found in many of the most expensive cars. The magic of Ignition Key starting...the performance of Plymouth's high-compression engine...the two-way safety of Safe-Guard Hydraulic Brakes and Safety-Rim Wheels...the solid comfort of the new Plymouth Air Pillow Ride.” (News, 1-15-'50.)

Do you want a car with some “getup and go?” Then see the new “Rocket” Oldsmobile at the Modern Motor Company on South Sixth Street: “FUTURAMIC '98' ...Now ...all new...the most magnificent Oldsmobile of all! Styling that adds sparkling new distinction to 'Rocket' Engine action! And just as thrilling is the Futuramic 98's luxurious interior! Remarkable new room and comfort - new slim, contoured steering wheel - new one-piece windshield and wider rear window! And to point up 'Rocket' smoothness – the '98' Oldsmobile offers new velvet-surging Whirlaway Hydra-Matic Drive!” (News, 1-18-'50.)

At the Witchie Buick Company on West Main Street, potential buyers were told about the “Hottest engine news of 1950: Call it if you will the biggest power-story of the year. Call it another triumph in Buick's long history of coming up with car performance beyond compare.

“...you'll be riding behind a power plant that is not only new but a major sensation of the 1950 season. You'll be commanding the very latest word in valve - in - head power - the newest accomplishment of the organization with the country's longest stretch of experience in this engine design.” (News, 1-20-'50).

The new Cadillac also had a new and improved engine: “Cadillac's great new high-compression engine is even smoother; it is actually quicker in acceleration; and it runs so quietly that only the indicators reveal when it is in action. It is simply wonderful to drive.

“And – difficult as this will be for owners of 1949 Cadillacs to believe – the 1950 cars are even more economical to operate. Gasoline mileage really approaches that of the smaller, lowest–priced cars. It is no less amazing that cars so big and luxurious should run so far on a gallon of gasoline.” (News, 2-18-'50).

In 1950, one could buy a new Mercury for $1,952: “When you compare them all, it's plain to see which car gives you the most for your money. It's the Mercury for 1950! For Mercury's new low starting price now brings you the better – than – ever new car buy!

“And it's miles ahead in value, too. Big! Beautiful! Roomy! Better in styling – with new 'Customized' interiors! Better – in comfort – with 'Lounge Rest' foam–rubber cushioned seats! Better in economy – with 'Econ – O – Miser' carburetion!” (News, 2-9-'50).

The 1950 Hudsons featured the new “step–down” ride: “Today's the day! The day to see the gorgeous Hudsons for 1950 that bring you a fresh motoring experience – 'The Step–Down Ride' - at sensational lower prices on every Super and Custom Commodore model. This is the ride that cradles you in the lowest–built car of them all!

“You instantly see that these new Hudsons have the lowest center of gravity in any American automobile – and as a result, you know instinctively, as you view them, that they hug the road more tenaciously and are therefore America's best–riding, safest cars!” (News, 2-12-'50).

According to an ad from the Swingle Motor Company on South 6^th Street, the 1950 Pontiac Catalina was “The Most Beautiful Pontiac Ever Built! It's the wonderfully good-looking new Pontiac Catalina – a car that combines the dashing grace of a convertible with the safety and convenience of an all–steel Body by Fisher.

“The new Pontiac Catalina is a sparkling car – and even better, it's a Pontiac, through and through! That means you will enjoy miles and miles of Pontiac's superb performance, and all of Pontiac's long–range economy.” (News, 2-14-'50).

One could purchase the Statesman Super 2–door Sedan Nash for $1758. The fancier model, the Ambassador Super 2–door Sedan, went for $2,089: “Want to sample the finest thing in engines? Drive the 1950 Nash Ambassador, and let it do its own boasting! If there's a better performer on the road today, the record books don't show it! Now you can have the last word in automatic driving – Hydra – Matic Drive with exclusive Selecto – Lift Starting.” (News, 2-15-'50).

You will save on fuel by purchasing the 1950 Ford: “You save up to 15% in gas with Ford Automatic Overdrive. Only Ford in its field offers you this money–saving feature. And only Ford brings you a V–8 engine (now hushed to a whisper) for hundreds less than most 'Sixes.'

“Ford Automatic Overdrive cuts your engine revolutions 30%. That means your engine can loaf along at 35 m.p.h. when your Ford is doing 50! And that means less wear on your engine, less wear on you.” (News, 2-15-'50).

After picking your new 1950 automobile, I suggest you stock up on road maps from your gasoline station, for the GPS was not invented until several decades later. Moreover, drive carefully because seatbelts were not standard equipment at that time. Happy motoring!

So Much for "Expert" Advice

. Recently, I read an article from a self-proclaimed expert on marriage. He said no matter how well a marriage is working, it can be enhanced when both the husband and the wife constantly and truthfully communicate with one another.

Me: “Dear, the magazine expert says you should tell me about my deficiencies so I may improve.”

Better Half: “Sweetheart, I cannot think of anything important enough to criticize. You treat me with respect and always see me as an equal. Furthermore, you seldom criticize me. What's not to like?”

Me: “There must be some things I do that bug you.”

Better Half: “No, I feel blessed to have you as my mate.”

Me: “I feel the same about you, dear. You may not be an angel, but you come pretty close.”

Better Half: “Of course, your jokes are corny, and it's kind of boring when you tell the same ones repeatedly.”

Me: “I tell them repeatedly because they're classics.”

Better Half: “And you watch too many sporting events.”

Me: “At least I don't rot my brain with those silly romance movies.”

Better Half: “Silly? You wouldn't know romance if it bit you in the butt.”

Me: “Well, you wouldn't know what a blitz is even if you were playing quarterback.”

Better Half: “And your friends are stupid and unsophisticated.”

Me: “You and your card buddies sound like hens in a chicken coop while the fox is making a raid.”

Better Half: “You watch too many old silly cowboy shows.”

Me: “You spend half the day watching boring detective shows. You seem to be fascinated by murder.”

Better Half: “The more we talk, the more it enters my mind.”

Me: “You invite your mother to our house too often.”

Better Half: “What? She hasn't been here in two years!”

Me: “Well, it seems like yesterday. She once told me you should have married that butcher from Cleveland.”

Better Half: “Maybe she was right!”

Me: “All I know is that your father died on purpose to get away from her!”

Better Half: “Take that back!”

Me: “I'm sorry. Listen, you are a better person than I am. You even have better in-laws than I do.”

Better Half: “Thank you. Hey, wait a minute!”

*If you see my wife, say “hi” for me. We haven't spoken to each other for a week. As for the “expert,” we want a restraining order to keep him at least ten miles from our residence, and we've canceled our magazine subscription. My wife and I have learned this: In marriage, sometimes ignorance of one another is bliss.

It can Happen in Restaurants, Theaters, and even Airplanes

Some people do a double-take when they see me on a hot summer day with a jacket wrapped around my waist, but there is a method to my madness. Even when the thermometer hits a blazing 100 degrees, some public places crank up the air conditioning almost to the point of frosting their windows.

My wife and I flew to Atlanta a few days ago to see our grandchildren. While sitting on the tarmac, the plane's interior became so heated that a group of camels asked to come aboard. That all changed once we were in the air.

Within five minutes, our desert turned into Antarctica. One could almost see their breath in the air. We quickly turned off the air nozzles above our heads, but Arctic-like air continued to pummel us throughout the trip.

Luckily, I'd brought along a jacket. This helped, but the frigid air penetrated the jacket to such an extent that I could not do one of my favorite flight pastimes- sleep. After the flight, it took me ten minutes to thaw out under a crisp Atlanta sun.

Occasionally, I've been blasted by cold air in theaters while trying to watch a movie. Once at the theater, my better half snuggled against me. I thought she was being romantic, but she simply wanted some of my body heat. (I should have known. On cold winter nights, she uses my body to heat her feet!)

A couple of years ago, we went to the theater to see a movie about the North Pole. It was so cold in there that it was easy to believe we were at the North Pole. I would not have been surprised to have seen a couple of polar bears sitting in front of us, sipping Cokes and munching popcorn.

During the first few years of our marriage, while the movie was in progress, my wife would ask me to go to the car to get a sweater for her. I didn't mind, except for the fact I'd missed an important part of the movie. Now older but wiser, both of us bring jackets with us.

We have dealt with several problems in restaurants. Often, the young workers will select music to blare over the room, music no one over 25 wants to hear. Moreover, they blast it so loudly that having a good conversation becomes nearly impossible.

One restaurant we went to was almost fully automated. Using a computerized screen, the customer punches in his choices and then uses a credit card to pay the bill. The receipt has “your” number on it. When that number is called, you walk up to the counter to get your food. Then you get your own drink, plate, and utensils. When the meal is finished, you clean up the mess.

Ironically, on the receipt is a place to leave a tip. Usually, I'm a generous tipper, but in this case, I refused to leave one red cent, for my wife and I did all the work. A tip should be for good service, not for a lack of service.

With that being said, the biggest problem we've encountered in restaurants is the freezing effect. It was so cold in one eatery that I was tempted to stick my toes into the soup to avoid frostbite. It was so cold that two polar bears were sitting at a nearby table, wearing coats, scarves, and mittens.

So if you see me this summer wearing a jacket around my waist, please cut me some slack. Besides, it's not as silly as the explanation given by a couple of farmers to my mom when she was a kid.

She asked why they were wearing long underwear while working under a blazing summer sun. They replied: “We do it to keep the heat out.” Somehow, I doubt that it worked. 

Noah and the Ark

*God became so disenchanted with human beings that He decided to get rid of (by drowning) all but Noah, his wife, his three sons, and his daughters-in-law.

God: “Noah, I order you to build an ark. On it, you will house two of every animal, a male and a female. I will unleash a great flood. When the waters recede, I will order the animals to go forth and multiply.”

Noah: “Lord, may I have a pass on the skunks? They could make life miserable for my family and for all the other animals.”

God: “You will take two of every animal, including the skunks! This is my command!”

Noah: “Yes, Lord. My wife wants her mom to come along. May I bar that old battleaxe from the boat?

God: “Of course, Noah; I'm not a cruel god.”

Noah: “Thank you, Lord. God, you just ordered me to tell the animals to 'go forth and multiply' once we reach land, but I'm afraid the two snakes you sent me can't do that.”

God: “Why is that, Noah?”

Noah: “Lord, they are adders, not multipliers.”

God: “Luckily for you, Noah, I have a good sense of humor.”

Noah: My Lord, do You think wiping out most of human life will end evil?”

God: “It will, at least until a new set of politicians comes along.”

*Seventy years later, an impatient God checks Noah's progress or lack thereof. Already, He has started the storm with which He plans to wipe out most of humanity:

God: “Noah, what is taking so long? You are a young, vibrant 600-year-old guy who should have finished this project long ago.”

Noah: “I am sorry, Lord, but government red tape is getting in the way. Officials took forty-two years to do an environmental impact study on building such an ark. The IRS seized my property and charged me with attempting to leave the country with endangered species. After seventy years, I'm still waiting for a boat license.

So far, my family and I have not been granted passports.

“ Another government agency says I must have a veterinarian aboard, and it found that the cages we want to use are not regulation size. Still another government entity won't let us sail until we have more human diversity aboard. Today, we received a notice stating we must have passengers representing each known faith.”

*Suddenly, the rains stop. The wind calms as the sky turns a light blue. A beautiful rainbow can be seen.

Noah: Aren't you still planning on destroying the world, Lord?”

God: “No, my son; it's too late. The government has beaten me to it!”

Life can be Unfair

 

The other day, while I was waiting to cross a busy intersection, an elderly lady stopped beside me and stared. “You look just like the actor Cary Grant,” she said. This, of course, puffed me up. Then, as we began to cross the street, she added: “Let's see; he's been dead about thirty years, so yes, he probably looks just like you.”

 

• If life were fair, Elvis would still be alive, and all his impersonators would be dead.

 

• If life were fair, we would be able to take retirement when we're young so that we could make the most of it.

 

• If life were fair, God would give Johnny Carson back to us.

 

• My wife's friend said I looked like a movie star- Frankenstein's monster. That's preposterous! I don't have a bolt in my neck! Besides, I've already been told I look like a long-deceased Cary Grant.

 

• If life were fair, the electricity would never go out during a thunderstorm.

 

• My wife gives me no credit for my cooking skills. She calls them “burnt offerings.”

 

• While I was minding my business and singing to myself in the living room, a neighbor called the police. He thought I was torturing a cat.

 

• If life were fair, eating pizza, ice cream, and chocolate candy would make you lose weight.

 

• If life were fair, hair would not grow on one's back or in one's ears and nose.

 

• It might be true, but it's cruel to tell someone their breath could kill a moose.

 

• If life were fair, suffering would always have the payoff of making you stronger or building your character.

 

• It's unfair that most of the best-tasting food is not good for you.

 

• The physical problems we encounter as we age are not fair, but as Mark Twain said, “Do not complain about growing old. It is a privilege denied to many.”

 

• When I was a kid, my parents moved six times, but I was always able to find them!

 

• I don't think my parents cared much about me. For bathtub toys, they gave me a radio and a toaster.

 

• I told my psychiatrist that everybody hates me. He said that can't be true; there are lots of people out there who don't know me.

 

• If life were fair, kids wouldn't get pimples. I remember falling asleep in the library, only to be awakened by a blind guy reading my face.

 

• If life were fair, on cold winter nights, wives wouldn't use their husbands' bodies as foot warmers.

 

• If life were fair, football players would make $50,000 a year, and teachers would be paid millions.

 

• If life were fair, eating potato chips would lower your blood pressure and take inches off your waist.

 

• THOUGHT FOR THE DAY: Even when life is unfair, we are about as happy as we choose to be.

You Know You're Getting Old When....

1. you can remember when the Dead Sea was only sick.

2. “happy hour” is a good nap.

3. your cardiologist says, “Spit it out if it tastes good.”

4. you are still “hot,” but it now comes only in flashes.

5. you need longer arms to read the newspaper.

6. each day, you check the newspaper's obituary section to see if you're in it.

7. a hot meal trumps a hot date.

8. an affair of the heart is a bypass.

9. you personally remember many of the events described in your grandson's history book.

10. young store clerks begin calling you “sweetie.”

11. you describe your knees as “good” and “bad” instead of left and right.

12. you have more hair in your ears than on your head.

13. you attend more funerals than weddings.

14. you need to wear your glasses in the shower to shave your legs.

15. most of the names in your “little black book” are followed by “M.D.”

16. your favorite songs are being played in elevators.

17. your back goes out more than you do.

18. instead of the police, your doctors tell you to slow down.

19. the candles cost more than the birthday cake.

20. you still “have it,” but no one wants to see it.

** Remember, age is just a case of mind over matter. If you don't mind, it doesn't matter.