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By Paul Dugan, Groovy Reflections Team Member

Many years ago a foster sister fixed me up on a blind date. Turns out the blind date had a boyfriend she suspected was cheating on her so she went out with me to make him jealous. As we come up on 42 years later I can only wonder if he’s jealous yet!

We had a whirlwind courtship, married three months later, and before you knew it, a baby boy came along. Well we decided to have two close together so they could grow up together. Then there was a missed pill or two and suddenly it was four bouncing boys with less than a year apart between each. Accidents or not we loved them all and still do and wouldn’t have it any other way.

Many times people thought we had sets of twins or even triplets as they were so close in age and looks, blue eyed towheads all. Some years later we finally had a little girl however she’s not part of this story; only mentioning her so if she reads this, I won’t have to listen to her whine that she wasn’t mentioned!

This story is about a Saturday morning when the boys were four, three, two, and one years of age. As hard working Mommies and Daddies are wont to do, we were attempting to get a little extra sleep.

The apartment was a two bedroom. The boys all slept in one room with a bunk bed, a twin bed and crib. The youngest, in the crib, wasn’t able to get out and the others took great delight in teasing and tormenting him, which of course resulted in a great deal of yelling and screaming.

Whether you’ve had children or not I’m sure you understand that yelling and screaming does not make for good sleeping conditions, so in my sternest daddy voice I yelled “Knock it off in there!” Okay, not very creative but it was early, I was sleepy, and it was the best I could do on short notice. Of course it did get quiet, for almost five minutes and it started up again, so once again I reached into the Daddy bag of clichés and said “You’d better quiet down or you’ll be sorry!”

At this point I must tell you that what I did not know at the time that all the noise was being generated by just three little boys! The oldest boy had crawled into bed beside his mother and was hidden from my view. Of course, once again peace and quiet reigned for five minutes tops and started once more at an increased volume from the previous two rounds.

Now resigned to the fact that further sleep was not an option, I rolled over, gave my wife a playful swat and said “Looks like we’re not going to get any sleep, how about a quickie?” Suddenly! A little blonde head popped up from the other side of her and said “I want a cookie too!”

Needless to say, that was the first and last time I had Oreos and milk for breakfast!

St Patrick's Day Traditions and Memories

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By GR Team Members Gerry, Paul, and Guy

Gerry: Several years ago I had the pleasure of being in New York City for the St. Patrick’s Day parade. Three young single women. Lots of good looking guys in uniform.  It must have been a Saturday or Sunday; can’t imagine all three of us playing hooky from our jobs! No, not us! Have to admit that the parade itself wasn’t all that exciting, but of course, people watching IS.

Even better was hanging out at The Quiet Man Pub (now defunct) after the parade, surrounded by those men in their uniforms!






Paul: Ah St Patty’s Day, the wearing’ o’ the green and all those other great Irish traditions! Or are they?

The wearing of green is easy since St. Patrick was Catholic he would represent the green in the Gaelic tradition of Ireland. But what about this corned beef and cabbage thing?

Corn beef and cabbage is not a true Irish dish. It’s actually an Irish/American dish. In Ireland beef was very expensive and as a result scarce. Cows were valued for their dairy products and sheep for their wool and dairy items so the traditional meats were from animals that wouldn’t mean the family would lose anything if they were slaughtered, such as pigs and mutton (older tougher lamb).

On holidays the Irish traditionally have pork back or mutton neck with potato and maybe carrots and leek (green onions). When the great potato famine hit many Irish folks immigrated to the United States. Times were difficult; they adapted and made dishes as close as they home meals on the holidays. Corned beef (beef soaked in a heavy concentration of salt to preserve it) was the least expensive of meats available while cabbage was plentiful and easy to grow, so the newly arrived Irish/Americans became known for their “traditional” corned beef and cabbage dinners. However, in Ireland you’ll only find corned beef is in the more touristy areas.

Another Irish tradition is the Claddagh Ring, or Irish wedding ring. The legend begins with a fisherman from the village of Claddagh on the western shores of Ireland who was engaged to be wed. One day his fishing boat was captured by pirates he was sold into slavery in Africa. His new master put him to work in his jewelry factory and the fisherman became a master craftsman.

Years later the fisherman won his freedom. History isn’t clear on how but he made his way back to Ireland and found his fiancé had waited all those years for him. He designed the now traditional Claddagh Ring for her and they were wed.

The ring features a heart with a crown being held by a pair of hands, the hands represent their friendship, the crown their loyalty and the heart of course their love!

The Claddagh ring, worn on the right hand with the heart facing out and the crown in, means the wearer is as free as the birds in the sky, however, with the heart facing in, the wearer is spoken for. When on the left with the heart facing in, the wearer is happily married forevermore; which is where I wear mine!

Guy: Although my lineage is mostly Scottish and English, I have no Irish strains that I'm aware of. More's the pity, because I love the culture, and of course the traditional music. I always have. And annually I make sure I have something green on, owing mostly to what I call "pinchaphobia."

In 1997 St. Patrick's Day was rolling around again. This was the year I lived alone in the three-bedroom family home that we'd purchased in 1968, and which I was trying to get sold. In the meantime I did a lot of my own cooking; only dining out infrequently. I was trying to save a buck here and there. So I spent a lot of time in the kitchen that year.

So I was thinking about how much I love corned beef, cabbage and potatoes. I thought; why not take a shot at that? I made a quick run to the nearest supermarket and purchased a head of cabbage, some spuds, and since I didn't really trust myself with a brisket, I opted for a can of corned beef. Although I haven't tried it since, it didn't come out too badly. It turned out to be a satisfying dinner. Although I could have done a jig in observance of the day, I didn't.

Bicycling Around Town

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By Guy Sharwood, Groovy Reflections Team Member

When my folks returned to Fresno in late 1958 after spending a few years in Bakersfield, we rented a house five or six minutes driving distance from my uncle's home. My uncle had encouraged his widowed mother and siblings to move to Fresno from Georgia after World War II had ended. All except one brother relocated out here.

Easter of 1959 we had a family gathering at my uncle's. As I did pretty much anywhere we went, I decided to go for a walk. I loved to just walk, but as I discovered, the neighborhood my uncle and aunt lived in was on the tricky side. It was all curves, squiggles and turns. There were no actual streets or avenues, just "drives." Most anywhere else I'd been the streets were sliced straight and easy to maneuver when walking around the block.

Not so with my uncle's neighborhood. In no time I was lost without even realizing it. A man at this one house inquired if I was "lost." I wasn't sure exactly what to say..."No I'm not, I'm right here." I might have said that but I don't remember.

It was then and there that a familiar car pulled up with the whole family in it. When we got back home, Mom whacked me good. Then  we joined the others to dye eggs.

I was five at the time.

But I never got lost after that. Ever.

As I slowly gained more independence over the years, I got increasingly familiar with Fresno. By age eight I was allowed to walk to the supermarket to get gum or a comic book, and return home.

It was a couple of years later that I thought it would be cool to just hop on my bicycle and just travel anywhere in town.

Where I'm writing this from.

Mom was all for it. In the summer of 1964, if I wasn't eating a meal, reading a comic, swimming or watching TV, I was on my bike. And I went all over Fresno--the airport, the Santa Fe Depot downtown and the Fresno State Campus (where I'm typing this). Ironically I loved to cycle through my uncle's neighborhood--the very place where I had gotten lost. Eventually with my brother, we would conquer Roeding Park and Millerton Lake.

Looking back, I am convinced that a chief reason my Mom approved so much of this activity was it got me out of her hair. Mom was an obsessive housekeeper. While gardening was her favorite hobby, she felt obligated to always have a neat, clean house. She wouldn't even have time to look at my drawings or stories, as linens and vacuuming took on a greater priority. Plus it didn't cost her anything if I was out riding.

So if I wasn't around to create additional messes, so much the better. I could make like Lewis and Clark, conquering "uncharted territory." And Mom could enjoy relative peace and quiet while scrubbing the floor or doing laundry.

Another reason I'm glad I grew up when I did. Such an innocent period back then. Mom didn't have to worry about assorted crazies lurking about, the way it is now. They just weren't around back then. They certainly weren't that day I had wandered off from my uncle's house back in 1959.

The Camp

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By Paul Dugan, Groovy Reflections Team Member

Growing up, I was very lucky. My Grandfather, who lived with us, owned a camp on a small pond a few hours from home. We got to spend our summer there.

It was very rustic. The only modern convenience was electricity. No indoor plumbing and no heat except the wood cook stove and some very old (even then) space heaters.

The camp sat just a few feet from the shore line of a very pristine body of water. No boat with a motor was ever in that pond and sparkling clear water remains to this day.

    

Some of my fondest memories come from that camp. The first weekend after school let out in June we’d load up the car and head to the camp. Dad would drive us all down and spend the weekend then he’d return home to work and drive back and stay with us on weekends.

As soon as we got there my shoes came off and didn’t go back on again until we returned home after Labor Day weekend. My feet were always really sore the first day back at school!

Even back then I was up early and I’d take a swim in the quiet and solitude of the sun rise and then I’d make breakfast; sometimes it was pancakes over a wood fired stove. That usually got every one else moving around as well.

I remember walking barefoot over five miles to Plymouth Massachusetts to buy the newest Nancy Sinatra album. Even with rustic conditions one had to have some priorities. And by the way back then you could still go barefoot in a store.

We had a wooden raft in the water, held up by empty 55 gallon drums that you could swim out to and dive off of. There was also an old wooden rowboat that was fun to maneuver around in the pond, take into the “swampy” area and hunt frogs and turtles, which we would later release.

I spent one entire summer irritating my Mother by singing “I’m Henry the VIII I Am” as loudly as I could in my best Cockney accent, which I thought was pretty good! Never knew why she didn’t love it as much as I did; it’s not like I didn’t mix in a verse of Gary Lewis and the Playboys “Save Your Heart for Me” now and then.

    

A neighbor had a small rickshaw he let us use and I’d pull my sister around in it for hours. Okay, I’m not entirely sure how much fun I had but she sure did!

On the other hand, she didn’t much fun when I talked her into rolling down a grassy hill with me. Okay, I was young, grass, poison ivy; they look the same, right? Good thing I wasn’t allergic to it; too bad about little sis though!

    

Then there was the time my big brother was going fishing, I wanted to go fishing too! I was only four and there was no such thing as “little kids” fishing equipment. So Dad took a stick and some twine and bent an old, large safety pin into a hook for me, put a worm on it and let me have fun. Meanwhile, he and big bro went off to try to catch some fish. I can proudly report there was only one fish caught that day, on an old bent safety pin! I landed a bluegill or sunfish as we used to call them, one of my proudest moments! Big brother still hasn’t forgiven me!

After my grandfather passed away, my folks couldn't afford to keep the property and it eventually was sold. I always vow that if I win the lottery, I’ll buy it back, no matter the cost. And, to paraphrase Paul Simon, I know it would never match my sweet memories! 

It’s Too Late Baby!

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By Gerry Wendel, Groovy Reflections Founder and Team Member

Proudly walking into a record store with a crisp five dollar bill that I earned doing household chores, I made my very first LP purchase “Can’t Buy a Thrill” by Steely Dan. Prior to that, my LP collection consisted of albums that were gifts. One of the earliest ones I can recall was “Tapestry” by Carole King.

There’s a dim memory about a teacher lecturing to the class about Carole King and referring to a newspaper article with a large photo of her. Ms. King, who had toiled for years as a songwriter and occasionally recorded, had finally hit the big time. I remember thinking that her curly hair was kind of wild looking. And she wore jeans!

Now, regarding the first copy of Tapestry I received; no recollection who gave it to me. I played it and loved every song, leaning towards the hits “It’s Too Late”, “I Feel the Earth Move”, and “So Far Away”. I thought it odd that an Aretha Franklin song was on the album; hey, what did I know about songwriters at a young age?

That first copy was well on the way to groove extinction when I received a fresh copy. Again, no clue who.

Back of the school.

Meanwhile, I had a little crush on a boy a grade below me, Warren. Naturally, I was afraid to talk to him; he never spoke much anyway. We did speak on a few occasions, but conversation was usually shy and restrained. He always had a book in his hand could often be seen wearing his denim jacket leaning up against a wall outside the school and quietly reading with his long straight hair blocking his eyes.

Warren watched as I ran a race on the big field one day; when I spotted him standing among the other kids, I ran much faster and was one of the first finishers! Amazing what a little attention will do to a girl.

We never really dated but we might have come close if I hadn’t eventually blown it. Besides, we were too young to be dating anyway.

Back to school, 1971. I hadn’t seen Warren for the whole summer. He told me he had something for me and he’d meet me in the library later. Wow! My birthday was the previous month; did he want to give me a present? Did he miss me? Funny thing was; I had something for him too!

We met in the school library as planned; a girlfriend was with me; not sure why she was there. Shyly, I handed to Warren a flat, square package. He opened it and looked pleased. It was the “Ram” LP by Paul and Linda McCartney. I paid $3.50 for it at Woolworths with money my step-mom gave to me.

Now it was my turn. I ripped the wrapping off of something flat and square. An album! “Tapestry” by Carole King. I turned to my girlfriend and said “I already have two copies of this, here, you can have it.”

End of romance.

Dale Carnegie once said “If you want to gather honey, don't kick over the beehive.” Well, I did better than that; I kicked it so hard the honey went to Mars!

Warren, I apologize for any hurt I may have caused.

Note: Not his real name.

Remembering Davy Jones

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The Monkees were together as a group initially from 1966 to 1970 and what an impact they made on us! All of us here at Groovy Reflections are stunned and saddened by Davy Jones’ passing and we’d like to share our thoughts with you.

Gerry: I was pretty young when The Monkees were on TV. I loved the show; it was perfect for a youngster, full of slapstick comedy and music! I had the first two albums; can’t recall if they were gifted from my parents or a friend. I particularly liked the tune "Your Auntie Grizelda" because of the silly sounds Peter made.

Not going to go into which Monkee was my fave at that young age. I’ll admit to changing allegiance over time AND I got mad at Mickey for getting a perm. In later years I learned that these were truly talented guys and they had to fight with producers to gain control of their music and be allowed to play instruments! They entertained us, we sang along, and we still do today. I loved all four of them.

My heart goes out to Davy’s family; since this is a well-publicized passing perhaps someone out there will understand the importance of heeding to those symptoms of heart attack and a life can be saved. May you rest in peace, Davy Jones. We’ll continue to enjoy all the music you left us.

Paul: It was September 12th 1966, I was just 16 years old and I invited these four guys into my living room. The Monkees were that kind of group; from the moment the show first aired you felt like you could invite them over for a burger and a game of catch and they’d be thrilled to come. That was their image at least and for me it worked.

The Monkees will always be my personal all-time favorite group. Their music spoke to me personally; it was nothing that would ever change the world, but at that age, I didn’t want to! Maybe it was because they came into my living room every week for two years that I felt so at home with the Monkees.

I remember wanting a Monkees shirt so bad and begging Mom to sew me one; by the time she did Monkee mania had passed. With Davy’s passing, I realize I’d still like that shirt.
I have always vowed to never grow up, but on February 29th 2012 a little piece of the kid in me passed away.

Joe: Very sad news indeed. Davy Jones passed away at 66, of a heart attack. I've said this many times: The Monkees were much underrated. Yes, they started out as actors playing musicians. But each one had musical talent, and eventually they stood up for themselves and played their own instruments. Who else had Carole King, Gerry Goffin, Neil Diamond, Harry Nilsson, and Tommy Boyce & Bobby Hart write songs for them? They were country rock pioneers, thanks to Mike Nesmith, who also happened to write "A Different Drum" for Linda Ronstadt.

Davy Jones could sing. Like most teenagers in 1966, I loved The Monkees immediately. I was more into 45s than albums, but I did buy their first LP, “The Monkees”. I really liked “Last Train to Clarksville”, but my favorite album track was "I Wanna Be Free".  That December, my first slow dance was in my friend’s basement to "I Wanna Be Free" with a girl named Bellanne. She was cute. OK, Davy was cute too. May he rest in peace, and I thank him for being a part of my life.

Pete: I was a mere six year old when the Monkees first hit the airwaves. I remember watching them with my older sister and liking the music I was hearing. As much as I liked hearing their songs on the radio, it wasn't until my early teens that I started collecting their albums, 45s and other memorabilia. Since then their brand of pure bubble gum music along with a sprinkling of blues, jazz, country and psychedelia have been a part of my life.

Other music genres have come and gone, but The Monkees contribution to rock and roll has withstood the test of time. They don't need to be in the rock and roll hall of fame to be appreciated! Their good time sound will always live in our hearts. Alas, with Davy's passing it only reminds us of our own mortality. If there is a rock and roll heaven, one more great voice has just been added to their all-star line up!! The Monkees made me smile in 1966 and they continue to do so in 2012. I think that speaks volumes. We better all look out, because, like it or not, here comes tomorrow!!

Maria: Dying at such a young age is all too familiar with the sixties performers, but undoubtedly, the music world as well as the fans are going to miss Davy Jones. Such a talented and gifted man; we were able to enjoy his music and the many television programs that he starred in. He was known best as the lead in the group The Monkees. He had a great many talents and was known worldwide. His wife, Jessica and four daughters will miss him very much and peace goes out to them to stay strong and carry on his legacy.

Guy: In 1966, NBC aired a half-hour trailer, Two In A Taxi. Jack Burns and Avery Schreiber offered a preview of the new fall prime-time lineup. Many shows that premiered that year turned out to be single-season flops--if they even lasted that long. An exception was The Monkees, which went on to enjoy a healthy two-year run.

Although in most places it ran on Monday nights, our local outlet, KMJ-TV (later KSEE) showed it on Saturday nights. That was fine by me, it gave me incentive to get through the school week, knowing I'd get to see The Monkees on the weekend. I loved the show, the music, and the guys right away. All four had a refreshing accessibility factor not present in all artists. They could all be guys down the street.

In the days before bicycle helmets were mandatory for kids, and passengers were no longer allowed to ride on handlebars, I cycled up to Triple J Drugs, about a mile away from our house, my younger brother in tow, to buy a 45 rpm copy of "Last Train To Clarksville" with my lawnmowing earnings.

So it later came out that The Monkees didn't play their own instruments. So big deal. Neither did Sonny And Cher, The Four Tops or The Righteous Brothers. Eric Burdon's answer was to just enjoy the record, And I did (Footnote: They did play on Headquarters, their third LP and my personal favorite).

I never got a chance to see them, but my wife Lynda did when she lived in Kansas.

Our sister blog, ModlandUSA also has a post about Davy and The Monkees. Click here.

Some great photos of Davy can be found here, dating back to 1962.

Please feel free to add comments to this post. We’d love to hear from you. Thanks for listening.

Exact Words

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By Paul Dugan, Groovy Reflections Team Member

Remember that episode of the Brady Bunch where Greg gets grounded and told he can't drive the family car? So, he drives someone else's car instead, and he's caught. He tells Mom and Dad that “your exact words were that I couldn't drive your car, and I didn't”. Now most parents would have exploded, but Carol and Mike simply say okay, if you want to live by exact words; that's what we'll do! Of course Greg finds it nearly impossible to live by his exact words and learns a valuable lesson!

I am here to report that fortunately my Mother never saw that episode, or I would have spent the better part of my adolescence learning “valuable lessons”!

For example, Mom and Dad tended to throw “adult” parties from time to time, which meant we children were banished to our upstairs bedrooms for the duration. The parties would get rather raucous ‘til a little before midnight when they quieted down considerably, then about fifteen minutes later a new group arrived and things got rolling again!

Those parties went ‘til the wee hours of the morning. Mom and Dad were in no mood to get up the next morning, let alone clean. Instructions were left for us kids to clean up. The benefit to us? We got to eat all the leftover snacks we wanted!

As we got older we also discovered more creative ways to empty the glasses as well, but that's another story entirely. We could have all the food we wanted, treats we could never seem to get enough of, except for Mom’s favorite brand of cheese crackers.  She left specific instructions; they were to be placed on her bureau.

The next afternoon following one of the parties, sitting in the living room with Dad and Sis we heard Mother bellow “who left these crackers on my bureau?” I calmly replied “I did Mom, you told me too”. At that point, I didn't think it possible, but Mom's voice rose several decibels as she screamed “Where the hell is the box?” “But Mom, you didn't say you wanted that.” Dad and Sis left the room so Mom wouldn't see them laughing! Never saw smoke come out of someone's ears before without use of a cigarette!

There were many more “exact words” incidents. One time I was told to draw the shades. Now an artist I'm not, but I thought the picture came out very nice! Or the time Mom ate a grapefruit in the living room and asked me to take the dish to the kitchen. Never said anything about the grapefruit rind!

And then there was the ice water incident. Mom liked her ice water and we kids were usually sent to fetch it. Okay, it's Mom; she deserved having us wait on her but the part that really got me was every time she asked, without fail, we also got instructions on how to make it! You wouldn't think it very hard but Mom had to tell us every time, “Be sure to fill the glass as full as you can with ice then put the water in”!

One day, in the middle of winter she handed me her glass and gave the instructions. I took the glass, went on to the front porch, snapped a four foot icicle off the eaves and crammed it into the glass and trickled a little water down the side and served her! This time she saw the humor in it and laughed and I'd like to tell you she never told me how to make ice water again!

However, she apparently didn't have much faith in our education system and continued to tell me and tell me!

That was a long time ago but it's fun to look back on the memories of our childhood. We lost Mom a few years back and I can honestly say I really wouldn't mind hearing those instructions one more time.

A Creepy Crawler Christmas.

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By Gerry Wendel, Groovy Reflections Founder and Team Member

Our Christmas tree stood proudly in a corner of the dining room. Not sure why that was, since the living room was about twice as large. Watering was never required. No groovy aluminum tree with a color wheel, just a green, somewhat realistic tree. I vaguely remember one year when we had a white one; wonder what happened to it?

My favorite holiday decorations resided on top of the fireplace: 4 felt covered small boxes, most likely homemade, one each in turquoise, red, green and white. Each box sported a felt letter with sequins in corresponding colors, spelling out NOEL. When I was old enough to reach the top of the fireplace mantle, that all changed and the letters usually read LEON, the name of one of my brothers. I rearranged them as often as I could; because I'd giggle every time. The rest of the family tired of my little joke after the first few switcheroos. Too bad.

I also loved the pixies that resided on the mantle, each with their arms locked together in a ring so you could stuff their legs through; optional of course. Their faces had a very strange smell to them, which was worth taking a little sniff of now and again; must have been all the chemicals in the plastic that gave off their intriguing scent.

We had Christmas dinner twice. Well, sort of. A ham on the eve, then off to bed for us kids. Who could sleep when we knew that Santa was coming any minute? I did my usual and read a book and fell asleep with the light on. My trusty pink bathrobe with blue, green and brown flowers was hanging over the chair by my desk, ready for wearing. That same quilted Sears bathrobe was my costume for the third grade play where I played Cindy Lou Who in How The Grinch Stole Christmas. I wouldn’t be caught dead in that color combination today!

Finally, the time was here! We’re heading downstairs! At seven years old, I still believed in Santa Claus, but not for much longer.

The presents were always so big! And there were always so many. I remember getting a Chatty Cathy one year, and graduated to my first Barbie not too long after. Barbie acquired lots of friends and relatives, Skipper, Casey who had one groovy earring, Truly Scrumptious from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, Scooter and Maddie Mod. Many of these dolls sported mod styled clothing which I understand is worth a lot more than the dolls nowadays! Oh, and Barbie’s boyfriend? Ken? Fuhgeddaboudit. She was into that man in uniform, G.I. Joe, in the days before his hair was made of fuzz.

Back to ripping that wrapping; I was always curious about my brother’s gifts. THEY got a lot of cars, which I guess my parents thought was not appropriate to give to little girls. Humph. Then I saw it; a big box that said “Creepy Crawlers” on it. THAT grabbed my interest. I grabbed the box and looked at the artwork and was fascinated by all those bugs on the box. I turned the box on its side. And then I saw it. An orange sticker that said “Grand Way $9.99”. WHAT? Santa shops at Grand Way? No, he and his elves make the toys, right? Uh oh.

I didn’t even have to ask. I knew. But the clincher that completely drove it home came the next day when I heard my Dad say to my Mom “I got the Creepy Crawlers for $2.99; they rang it up wrong.” Oh dear.

Aw, Nuts!

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By Paul Dugan, Groovy Reflections Team Member

Some years back when Dad was on his own for the first time in more than fifty years, I would drive to visit him and stay over. It was a long ride. My days off were Sunday and Monday, so every other week I would head out first thing Sunday and return to my own family later on Monday.

We’d usually spend part of Sunday watching a sporting event on TV, just visiting, and of course we’d also include a visit to see Mom, who was residing at a nearby nursing home. And, while there I always tried to take care of some chores for him, even if it was only cutting the grass, though sometimes it involved things like rebuilding the back steps.

There was a problem with the kitchen faucet and the replacement for this particular unit was expensive so my sister who lives about fifteen hundred miles away pitched in and bought him one and sent it. My job was to install it. No problem, shut off the water supply, loosen a few nuts remove the old, put in the new, tighten a few bolts, all done. Yeah, if that were the case this would be a very short story.

I arrived on Sunday morning. Dad and I wanted to watch the football game at 1pm, so I said “Why don’t I get that faucet fixed right away; then we can relax.” The nuts holding the faucet in place were no problem, but the nuts connected to the hot and cold water supply weren’t budging. We tried all sorts of solutions to loosen them, including “liquid wrench”. Seemed like the more I tried to loosen the nuts, the more they threatened to twist that pipe into a pretzel.

Resigned to nearly giving up or moving to more drastic measures, I told Dad there was plenty of room to use a small pipe cutter to cut the pipe above those fittings, then put a couple 3/8 compression nuts on and we’d be fine. So off to the hardware store we go!

Dad lived in a rural area so a trip to the hardware store took a few minutes. At the “Super Hardware Store”, we found a wall full of compression nuts, except the hook with the 3/8 inch was empty. When shopping at the “Giant Hardware Store” in the next town, we found, you guessed it, no 3/8 inch compression nuts! Nor were there any in the next three places we tried.

Finally, success in yet another town, at a little hole in the wall place, “Harry’s Hardware”! We walked in asked if they had any and the man said “Of course!”

Several hours had passed by now and we hurried back home. The game we wanted to see was already started, so I dove under the sink and in no time flat had that faucet working fine. We did see half the game. Though I don’t remember who won, I enjoyed hanging with Dad.

Sadly it was one of the last visits with Dad; he passed away a few months later. Being the nearest relative I traveled to his home with my wife and daughter every weekend in my trusty van, and we cleaned out and packed up Mom and Dad’s possessions and brought vanloads of memories home.

On one such trip, I was packing in the laundry room while my wife and daughter were doing the same in other rooms. They suddenly heard me start laughing; in fact, I laughed so hard that tears were literally running down my cheeks. Finally, they calmed me down enough to ask “What was so funny?” All I could do was show them what I was holding; a cellophane bag with about fifty 3/8 inch compression nuts!