Well the weather outside is frightful. It’s winter time. It’s cold. And, that also means it’s time for an endless stream of holiday parties and family gatherings. At this time of the year well-intentioned people can be both trying and exhausting. But, that doesn’t mean it’s time to not include anyone or ignore them once you are with them. Simply stated, you shouldn’t “give the cold shoulder.” Or, should you? A few hundred years ago maybe you should have. The origin of the phrase gives dual meanings.
Meaning: A rude way of telling someone he isn’t welcome or to ignore someone History: Although giving someone the cold shoulder is considered rude today, it was actually regarded as a polite gesture in medieval England. After a feast, the host would let his guests know it was time to leave by giving them a cold piece of meat from the shoulder of beef, mutton, or pork.
Holy cow, who knew? Cold beef, mutton, or pork doesn’t sound so bad after all. Of course if you were shown the door for all of the wrong reasons perhaps it was indeed past time to leave. Did you drink more cold beers than any one human should? If so a few aspirin in the morning will get you to the next soiree. But, after too many holiday parties it may be time to, well, dry out some? If you want to go to the extreme perhaps you “quit cold turkey.” Cold turkey means that you have dead stopped doing something that you used to do with great regularity. Why is a sudden behavioral change described that way?
Meaning: To quit something abruptly History: People believed that during withdrawal, the skin of drug addicts became translucent, hard to the touch, and covered with goose bumps – like the skin of a plucked turkey.
Cold adult beverages, cold shoulders, cold turkey, and cold nights make for a long winter. ‘Tis the season.
Surely you have been told that you must tell the truth or you will suffer the consequences? But did you know that the first tv game show was named Truth or Consequences? It aired first as a radio show in 1940 and later was on tv and in syndication until the mid 1960’s. Oh, and surely you have heard of Hot Springs, New Mexico? No? Well, if you were born after 1950 you probably have not. Why? It’s because Hot Springs, NM officially changed its name to Truth or Consequences, NM in 1950.
Originally named Hot Springs, the city changed its name to “Truth or Consequences”, the title of the popular program. In March 1950, Ralph Edwards, the host of the then tv quiz show Truth or Consequences, announced that he would air the program on its 10th anniversary from the first town that renamed itself after the show. Hot Springs won the honor, officially changing its name on March 31, 1950 (the program broadcast from there the following evening, April 1). Edwards visited the town during the first weekend of May for the next 50 years. This event was called “Fiesta” and included a beauty contest, a parade, and a stage show. The city still celebrates Fiesta each year during the first weekend of May.
Truth or Consequences, NM is far from the only town that has an odd name derived from odd origins. Why would towns name themselves such a thing? Below are a few more for you to ponder. We begin, actually, with a town named Why.
Why, Arizona
Why, oh why, is this town called Why? It’s said to be because State Routes 85 and 86 formed a Y-intersection near the area. Since Arizona law required city names to have at least three letters, the founders changed the name from “Y” to “Why”—although if residents hadn’t seen it written down, no one would have known the difference.
No Name, Colorado
This is one of many funny town names that aren’t really names at all. Credit for the town’s unusual name goes to the developers constructing Interstate 70, who left several exits unmarked. When a Colorado Department of Transportation official went out to improve the signs, he wrote “No Name” on Exit 119. The town has had No Name ever since. State officials once tried to rename the area, but locals wouldn’t allow it.
Embarrass, Minnesota
The township gets its name from the French word “embarras,” which means “an obstacle or difficult situation.” When French explorers first traveled through the area, they had trouble getting their canoes down the river, so they named the river (and, eventually, the town) accordingly. See? Nothing to be embarrassed about here.
Hot Coffee, Mississippi
One inn owner, L.J. Davis, advertised that he made the best hot coffee around—and it very well could have been. Davis made the coffee with pure spring water and New Orleans beans, and he used molasses drippings as sweetener. People loved it so much that they named the town after it.
We’ll have five more funky names to ponder soon. Until then enjoy some Hot Coffee wondering Why No Name would Embarrass itself so. At least it’s the Truth, hence there are no Consequences.
One of the many gifts that Boom Boom gave us was the torrent of quips about how one leads one’s life. He could say so much by saying so little. A statement at just the right moment resonated in my young, eager eardrums. How I interpreted or applied it was up to me. No more words were spoken because no more words were needed. Today we share a tough one and it’s quickly our 10th.
In the spring semester of eighth grade the PA announcement was music to my ears. JV and Varsity baseball tryouts would begin that Friday afternoon and continue on that Saturday morning. His years of hard work with me had reached a pivot point.
The ninth and tenth grade competition would be tough. I was confident however. I had been running, hitting, fielding, and pitching for weeks prior. I was pumped. Perhaps secretly so was he.
After Friday about a dozen were told thanks but no. After Saturday’s practice the herd was thinned again, and I was one of 18. Fifteen would be kept. So far so good. Coach had settled me into first base more than anything else. The competition there wasn’t too strong if you asked me. As I hopped into the Jetstar 88 for the ride home I wanted to compare myself to others. He didn’t. “Did you do your best?” I said yes. “That’s all that you can ask of yourself,” he assured me. “Do your best everyday!” “That’s what you can control.”
Monday, coach approached after practice. I got the bad news. As I hopped in for the drive home my face told the story. Silence filled the car. After a few minutes, Boom Boom asked, “Did you do your best?” I didn’t want to hear that at that moment. “But, I was better than David.” He didn’t want to hear that at that moment. He asked again. I finally mumbled a weak “yes.” “That’s all anyone can ask son. Do your best! And let the chips fall where they may.”
In the seasons leading up to and in the seasons after Tom Dempsey’s miracle kick there were plenty of other home Saints games that Boom Boom and I attended. There were seven a year(14 game seasons) in fact, and nine including preseason games.
We went to all of them, and I mean all of them. And we got there early and always stayed till the (often bitter) end. And, I mean we got there early. The gates opened at 10 AM for noon kickoffs. We were in the car by 9:40 latest. It wasn’t uncommon for us to arrive by 10:00 AM. Why? Well, for one, we beat the traffic. We got a great parking spot too. We always parked a mile away in a high school lot. We always had the first spot closest to the exit.
I never asked why we got there so early, but it sure seemed fine to me. Once I counted seven fans sitting on their old Tulane Stadium wooden bench seats in the entire 84,000 seat capacity stadium. Seven. And that count included the two of us. Back then you could bring most anything in to the stadium. We brought sandwiches, a canned soft drink for me, a thermos of coffee, and a flask of what dad called “snake bite medicine.” There was something calming and exciting at the same time about sitting there, eating an early lunch, and chatting about the upcoming NFL football with dad.
Just about the time the sandwich was gone a few Saints would trickle out of the locker room. This always included Tom Dempsey or the kickers that competed before and after him. I would run from where ever our seats were to the end zone. My goal was to catch one of the warm up field goal attempts that soared into the bench seats one after the other and then throw it back. There were no nets back then. I wasn’t alone. The competition for a youngster was taller and older. And, the football flew high, far, and fast. I never caught one. I did get my fingers on one once. I actually dislocated a finger in fact. It looked crooked and hurt much. Around the stadium I went. Dad gave it one good pull in spite of my protestations and it was back in place. I started to ask if the “snake bite medicine” might soothe the pain. Then I thought it better not to.
On one particular sunny Sunday morning we departed, as always, on time for the game. I was looking forward to the sandwich, the chat, the opportunity to finally catch a ball, and the kickoff. Surely this was the week that the Saints would break their losing streak. After parking and walking we approached the ticket taker at our gate. Boom Boom rooted around in his coat pocket (a sport coat and a tie were standard attire then) then his pants pockets. His eyes got bigger with each empty pocket. “Son, I think I forgot the tickets.” “What do we do, Daddy?” “Let’s run back home and get them,” he said. His voice tone spoke volumes of the disappointment in himself. “But, we will miss the kickoff,” I selfishly said. “Maybe not” came the retort.
From the entrance we spun our heels and walked the mile back to the car. Like salmon we wove our way back home. Mom, being mom, heard the car and ambled outside worried about our arrival.
“What’s wrong?” Boom Boom slowed down to a jog while passing her. It was just long enough to admit that he forgot the tickets.
“Get back in. Let’s go.” And off we went. Traffic had built, but not too badly. Boom Boom had slipped the attendant a couple of bucks to save our parking spot.
One mile of brisk walk later we were in the stadium and headed to our seats. We sat down for only a minute or so before we were asked to stand up as Al Hirt blasted the national anthem through his seasoned trumpet.
As the brass horn hit the last notes Boom Boom lamented, “Son, that’s the latest that I’ve ever arrived for any game. We almost missed the Star Spangled Banner.” “ We made it before kickoff, Dad.” “You never want to be late for anything,” he said. Hmm.
By the end of the third quarter the Saints had done plenty enough wrong to insure another loss was well in hand. We stayed until the final seconds though. We always did. Always.
During the game and then on the walk back to the car I thought about asking him why being in our seats before the Anthem was so important. Then I thought it better not to.
“Thanks for taking me to the game Dad,” I chose instead. “You bet,” came the quick reply.
So, what’s the moral of the story? If you’re not early, you’re late. And, don’t ask why.
When times are tough have you ever suggested that it was time to circle the wagons? Or, maybe it got tough enough that you needed to rally the troops? But, when the going gets really tough it might be time to gather the family. Who can you count on more than family? After all, “blood is thicker than water,” isn’t it? What though is the origin of that phrase?
Meaning: Family comes before everything else History: In ancient Middle Eastern culture, blood rituals between men symbolized bonds that were far greater than those of family. The saying also has to do with “blood brothers,” because warriors who symbolically shared the blood they shed in battle together were said to have stronger bonds than biological brothers.
Blood is indeed thicker than water. But, unfortunately, when actual blood flows from one’s body it certainly can create an emergency. Emergencies require prompt action. Prompt action might have to be taken on the spot. This situation might be so difficult that you might need to “bite the bullet.” Why bite on a bullet?
Meaning: Accepting something difficult or unpleasant History: There was no time to administer anesthesia before emergency surgery during battle. The surgeon made patients bite down on a bullet in an attempt to distract them from the pain.
Blood is thicker than water. But, too much of it and you might need to bite the bullet. Your family sure hopes not.
Do you remember just a few (or many) years ago when your teacher spoke the nine most dreaded words you heard that day? “Today we are going to have a pop quiz.” Remember what your (printable) reaction was? Do “oh boy,” “jeez,” “gosh darn,” or even”dammit” or stronger come to mind?
Well it’s that time again unfortunately. We have but one geographical question for you. And it’s all centered around a tricky old world area. Are you ready?
What’s the difference between England, Great Britain, and the United Kingdom? Go ahead, admit it. You’ve used them interchangeably at times and may not have been entirely clear on what distinguishes one from the other from the other.
First the easy part. England is, well, England. England is a country that is part of Great Britain as well as the United Kingdom. It shares land borders with Scotland to the north and Wales to the west. England is separated from continental Europe by the North Sea to the east and the English Channel to the south. Think London, the queen, Big Ben, Wimbledon, and parliament.
It gets a bit trickier from here. Great Britain is the totality of the island mentioned above. So, England, Scotland, and Wales comprise Great Britain and share the aforementioned borders. With an area of 80,823 sq mi, it is the largest European island, and the ninth-largest island in the world. In 2011, Great Britain had a population of about 61 million people, making it the world’s third-most populous island after Java in Indonesia and Honshu in Japan.
And finally, The United Kingdom is the combination of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. It’s been such since 1801. It’s often simply referred to as “The UK.” It’s actual name is the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. No wonder it’s called “The UK.” The United Kingdom includes the island of Great Britain, the north-eastern part of the island of Ireland and many smaller islands. It is a sovereign country unto itself. It’s estimated population is 66 million as of 2011.
The Union Jack flag (which actually combines the three 19th century designs from England, Scotland, and Ireland) is the official flag of the UK since 1801. Notably Wales is a part of the UK, but the flag was designed prior to its invasion and inclusion in the union.
You may be ready to wave the proverbial white flag after sorting through this.
On November 8th, 1970 the New Orleans Saints were hosting the Detroit Lions in old Tulane Stadium. The Superdome was little more than a hope and a dream at that point. The Saints won/loss record was a disappointing 1-5-1 on the season. Prior to this dismal 1970 start the franchise had set a record in its 1967 expansion season with the most first season wins ever with three against 11 losses (they only played 14 games back then) . In 1968 they improved to 4-10. And, in 1969 they improved yet again to 5-9.
The 1970 season was so disappointing that the owner, John Mecom Jr., fired the first and only head coach, Tom Fears, that they had after the weeks’ prior loss. In walked J.D. Roberts to confidently take his place. The only problem was that Roberts resume’ stalled out at the NFL linebackers coach level, and that was two years prior. After that he was running the Saints farm team (they had such a thing at that time) for two years. Think of it as a JV coach in high school perhaps?
If you need more evidence as to how shaky this hire was jump forward for a minute to 1971 when Archie Manning became a Saint via the second overall pick in the draft. That fall, in Roberts first full season, he, Manning, and the Saints traveled for preseason game number one. Manning recalled this first game ever, which brought the Saints to Buffalo to play the Bills and their celebrity running back, O.J. Simpson. After Simpson ripped off a 30-yard gain, “J.D. turns to me and says, ‘I don’t know who that No. 32 is, but he’s a damn good-looking running back,'” Manning said. “I couldn’t tell if J.D. was serious or not. That’s the way J.D. was. But I thought to myself, ‘Here I am in the NFL and our head coach doesn’t even know who O.J. Simpson is.'”
So back to Roberts fifth full day on the job, he jogged out with the Saints to take on the soon to be playoff bound Lions. Boom Boom and I had tickets courtesy of one of the suppliers that sold to him, Mr. Harold Kataya. We joined his group of many in their row 2 upper deck 40 yard line seats. The game ebbed and flowed and with under 30 seconds left Detroit kicked a chip shot field goal to climb ahead 17-16.
The cocktails were flowing all game long in row 2 as well. Getting booze into the stadium wasn’t a tough task back then. Watching a team about to fall to 1-6-1 was a tough task and likely much more fun if your vision was a bit blurred. Detroit was much better than the woeful Saints. However, they too may have had a few on Bourbon St. the night prior for the game to be this close this late.
A decent kickoff return and one pass play later the Saints were down to the final two seconds and the ball was resting on their own 44. Time out. Out trotted the field goal special teams unit. In 1970 the goal posts were still on the goal line (the safety of the players wasn’t quite what it is today). This field goal, given the seven yard snap back to the holder, would be attempted from 63 long yards.
The Mighty “Half Boot” of Tom Dempsey
Boom Boom turned to me and said convincingly and quickly “Son, there is no way he can make this. You realize that right?” “I think he can Dad.” “He” was Tom Dempsey the N.O. field goal kicker. Tom Dempsey was born with no toes on his right foot and no fingers on his right arm. He kicked with his right foot. That’s right. His specially made kicking shoe was squared and flat on the end. Like almost all others then he kicked straight on, not soccer style like every kicker does today.
Alex Karras starred in Webster
The longest field goal ever made to that point was 56 yards. It was made 17 long years prior in 1953. One Lion, Alex Karras, then a pro bowler and later in life a TV game analyst/announcer and sitcom actor, was said to have laughed out loud on the field that the Saints were even attempting such an absurdity.
The snap was fine and the hold was perfect. As Dempsey put his half-foot into the ball the Lions made only a cursory attempt to block the kick. The kick traveled from our left to our right. Time stood still. Eighty three thousand fans were silent as one. The football flew. And flew. And flew. And when it crossed over the bar with a good two feet to spare the referees came from beneath the goal post, arms risen in unison, signalling that the kick was good. Good. GOOD!
I looked wide-eyed at Boom Boom. He jovially looked at me. “You were right, son!” I jumped for joy. He caught me, hoisted me higher, and we jumped even higher as one. There was but one problem. Boom Boom lost his balance. At that split second my back was to the field. We fell into row 1. Half of my body was above the railing separating us from 40 feet of free fall into the lower section. Thankfully all of his body was below the railing and he never lost his hold of me. The hug was too tight and the joy was so right.
The Saints lost every other game that year to finish 2-11-1. It mattered not to this then ten-year old.
It was the mighty boot of Dempsey that made the football fly! Two seconds left, it was do or die! Those are the first two lines of the ballad later sung, recorded, and sold on a 45 rpm to commemorate the moment. I got the 45 as a birthday gift and played the grooves off of it.
The moral of the story you ask? Actually there are a few. Enjoy every second. Dream big. Cherish great memories. Oh, and don’t sit too close to the upper deck railing.
Did you participate in the mad dash for your cash called Black Friday? In today’s world you can “save” money without out even getting in the car. Retailers provide brick and mortar locations and virtual locations to entice you.
For your sanity we hope that if you did it did not involve any time on Thanksgiving Day itself, or waiting in line for a store to open, or a swift elbow to the ribs around a “sale” table, or a parking lot demolition derby. If you did venture out, did you get what you needed? Or, did you get what you wanted?
Apparently “The Dixie” only wanted, but did not need, a paint job.
Boom Boom directed the Purchasing Dept. for much of his 32 year career at Dixie Machine Welding and Metal Works. He called it “The Dixie.” If The Dixie was buying something, anything, his name was on the purchase order eventually. He asked all who worked for him, “do we need this, or do we want it?”
Naturally this mantra permeated our family life. If you asked for something, he asked “is this a need, or a want?” If you didn’t answer correctly you had no shot of getting what you needed or wanted. If you did answer correctly “wants” often went wanting. In the mid seventies I wanted a pair of Adidas basketball shoes. They sure looked like they could make me run faster and jump higher. “Your Converse basketball shoes are fine. You don’t need new shoes. What are you going to do with two pairs of shoes that serve the same purpose?”
I suppose his upbringing through the Great Depression might have driven this careful thinking like other words of wisdom that he lived by and shared often. Perhaps more people should live by them as well. A recent surveydetails the utter failure of a prosperous generation of baby boomers to save enough money to afford retirement, much less enjoy it. The survey details that an astonishing 80% of Americans aged 55 to 71 have not saved enough to retire.
In short, they “want” to retire, but they “need” to work. The sooner one learns the want v. need lesson the better.
If Lefty and Shorty were still with us on Thanksgiving evening the night might have unfolded like this.
Lefty and Shorty sat quietly in the cool fall air. It was nearly midnight and cars were nowhere to be found. Lefty- Why do we stay open till midnight on Thanksgiving? Shorty- So that we can discuss how Lefty is going to do Friday. It’s a tall order.
Lefty sat to the left of Shorty. Imagine that. Shorty sat on the shorter of the two “halves” of the 55 gallon drum. Imagine that. Each were cut down to size and retrofitted with a soft cushion top. Lefty looked confused.
Lefty- How am I going to do Friday? And, what do you know about tall, Shorty? Shorty- No. Not you Lefty, the other Lefty. Phil Mickelson.
Lefty- Phil Mickelson? What’s he doing Friday? Shorty- Haven’t you heard? He is playing Tiger Woods in a winner take all 18 hole match.
Lefty- I haven’t heard anything about it. Shorty- Worse yet, it’s on pay per view.
Lefty- How much? Shorty- It’s $19.95 per household for you, and it’s nine million bucks for one of them. Lefty- Somebody must be paying to watch. Shorty- Tiger has been paying since Thanksgiving 2005 when his ex-wife swung that nine iron through his back window and he crashed into the tree.
Lefty- When is the last time Phil won any money? Shorty- In Vegas? Every now and then. In a card game? Twice a week. In the Ryder Cup? Maybe 1999.
Lefty- I won’t tune in Friday. Shorty- I might tune up my 57 Chevy.
Lefty- What happens if they play and no one pays to watch? Shorty- They’re about to find out. It works for the LPGA.
Shorty sat on the shorter of the two “halves” of the 55 gallon drum. Imagine that. Each were cut down to size and retrofitted with a soft cushion top. Lefty looked confused.
Shorty- Tiger has been paying since Thanksgiving 2005 when his ex-wife swung that nine iron through his back window and he crashed into the tree.