July 4th was special when I was growing up. Our house was located enough up above Milligan Park that we could see the fireworks from our street . We would gather some chairs and sit in the street (it was a dead end street with a street light which mysteriously burned out before the show started) and patiently wait for the show to begin at the park. We would grade the various aerial bombs by cost. A little one would be $5 and a really great one would cost $25 in our late 1940's kid's rating system. We had no idea what they really cost -- but it was fun to speculate.
Some time in my history Dad began to play at the park in the old POSofA band. That was great because we got to go to the park for free and see the fireworks up close. Later I played in the same band and got to set right on the field up close and personal. Ah the past. So many memories of 4th of July fun. It has always been a great day for me -- even while I was in the Air Force Band -- we played for this special day -- lots of patriotic songs and marches to celebrate our independence.
Maybe I just did not listen or maybe I didn't understand about why we celebrate this holiday. I know I was taught the reason for this special day in our country's history -- but it apparently didn't soak in. All I knew was it was the day our forefathers, especially Thomas Jefferson and Ben Franklin, drew up a document that told England we were going to separate ourselves from them and that was it. It was signed on July 4th 1776. It was called the Declaration of Independence.
As I have grown older and wanted to know more about things -- I have read many books about those days after July 4th 1776. Those great men from the 13 colonies put their lives on the line -- in the face of losing their lives -- for the cause of independence for this new country. This day all those years ago was just the beginning. After the king of England got the word that HIS 13 colonies wanted to try an experiment with a whole new form of government -- and wanted to go it alone with no help or interference (or taxation) from England -- he went bonkers! He was going to lose part of the great British Empire and lose tax money. He immediately sent soldiers and ships and his navy -- the best in the world -- to put down this rebellion and stupid notion that his colonies could make it on their own and let everyone live free.
That was the whole idea of this new country -- to let everyone have a say in the decisions of the government and to live free to do what ever they wished with no cast system or class system -- all equal and independent with their own goals and wishes and with no state religion -- and able to speak freely without punishment of any kind. (Yes their were slaves and that would be dealt with many years later -- but it WAS dealt with). This was unheard of! No King? No upper ruling class? It just couldn't be done!
As we know -- these men, these colonists, unselfishly got themselves into a helluva war. It was called the Revolusionary War. There were no anesthetics -- not much medicine. Those little lead balls caused lots of problems when they hit someone. The cannon balls blew men apart and shrapnel ripped off legs and arms. They had no uniforms to speak of. They were not trained -- just mostly farmers and store keepers etc -- but they fought and fought and fought again. They often froze in the Winter as then fought without coats or even shoes. General George Washington was their leader and he was a Civil Engineer with the stars of a General thrust upon him. He led with honor and valor -- often leading the troops into harms way. He was shot at numerous times but kept on urging his little army into battle day after week after month. The British army was far far better than our ran-tag soldiers -- but we never quit. Out numbered at every battle -- we outsmarted those redcoats time and time again. We lost thousands of young men and boys in battle after battle. the King -- sitting in his nice warm castle in England -- kept sending more and more troops and ships and guns -- but in spite being outnumbered and of our huge losses -- George Washington's Patriots kept on fighting -- month after month -- from the forests behind the trees and hills -- they kept fighting for the cause they knew was right -- freedom from the tyranny of the British Monarchy. Yes they had some help from France and also the Native Indians -- but our little army fought for over two years after that little document our forefathers sighed back in 1776 that began -- WE THE PEOPLE ! And we won! England gave up and let us have our experiment in government -- our stupid notion that everyone could participate and grow and be successful -- regardless of their station in life. And each State could operate independently and still remain United as a country. And we are still here, aren't we? Look what it precipitated -- the greatest country the world has ever known.
Happy Birthday United state of America.
From the heart of Olaf Hart .....
Wednesday, July 4, 2018
Sunday, July 1, 2018
Anguish Languish
Anguish Languish is a homophonic language created by Howard Chance to show how ridiculous the English Language can be. It uses real words that sound similar to the intended words -- but are not the correct word. So Anguish Languish are two real words that sound like English Language but are not. His famous nursery rhymes were published in the 50's. Example: Ladle rat rotten hut. You figure it out.
Why the reference? Because I can not spell very well. I am probably the worse speller I have ever known. And I blame it in part on the English Language.The general attitude among good spellers about bad spellers is that -- they are low class (what ever that means) -- they are not well educated -- they are lazy -- they have a low IQ -- and a few other low blows. But I am none of these. So why do I have such a problem with the entanglement of all these lovely little letters to conform to what the dictionary believes to be the proper arrangement to spell a certain word? Why can't I spell?
During my freshman year of college at Indiana State, myself and three or four other guys (Are guys worse spellers than women?) were faced with the possibility of flunking freshman English because we all flunked the required spelling tests. Oh yes -- we all knew how to diagram a sentence and how to tell a noun from a verb. We were good English students -- but we had "cantspellitis." So the Professor -- bless his heart -- with considerable exasperation, wrote ten or twelve words on the blackboard (no whiteboards back then) and told our little group to "Memorize these damn words!" He erased the words and told us in no uncertain terms to "Write the damn words down before you forget them!" We did and we all passed freshman English.
OK. Back to this ridiculous, complicated English Language. Lets start with the alphabet. B is a good example. Bee(honey) --Bea (Aunt Bea) -- Be(still) -- Beebe(gun) -- spelling Bee. Maybe you can think of some more. How about C? See(eyes) -- Sea (ocean) -- Seesaw (teeter totter) -- Si' (Senior). And that is just a couple of letters. Homonyms are pretty confusing. Read(today) read(yesterday). Bass(fish), bass(guitar). Refuse(won't do it), refuse(trash), re-fuse (put in new fuses). Hundreds more -- you know the drill. It must be a real chore to learn English with all the various different sounds for just one letter. It's tough to speak, let alone spell the Kings English we had thrust upon us. No wonder I can't spell.
I realize that most of my career has been "reading" commercials or news on radio or TV and not caring or needing to be concerned about spelling. After all, it wasn't a newspaper. As long as it sounded OK, I could spit out the words like a motor mouth whether they were spelled correctly or not. But it seems that we have all come back to writing to each other these days on phones and computers rather than speaking so much So I better get my act together and get with the program. What were some of the rules? E before I or was it I before E-- then what? -- I can't remember. I do know this. I know the best invention so far in this 21st century is one I use numerous times each day and many times on this blog -- I couldn't do without it! It is called the spell checker!
From the heart of Olaf Hart ....
Why the reference? Because I can not spell very well. I am probably the worse speller I have ever known. And I blame it in part on the English Language.The general attitude among good spellers about bad spellers is that -- they are low class (what ever that means) -- they are not well educated -- they are lazy -- they have a low IQ -- and a few other low blows. But I am none of these. So why do I have such a problem with the entanglement of all these lovely little letters to conform to what the dictionary believes to be the proper arrangement to spell a certain word? Why can't I spell?
During my freshman year of college at Indiana State, myself and three or four other guys (Are guys worse spellers than women?) were faced with the possibility of flunking freshman English because we all flunked the required spelling tests. Oh yes -- we all knew how to diagram a sentence and how to tell a noun from a verb. We were good English students -- but we had "cantspellitis." So the Professor -- bless his heart -- with considerable exasperation, wrote ten or twelve words on the blackboard (no whiteboards back then) and told our little group to "Memorize these damn words!" He erased the words and told us in no uncertain terms to "Write the damn words down before you forget them!" We did and we all passed freshman English.
OK. Back to this ridiculous, complicated English Language. Lets start with the alphabet. B is a good example. Bee(honey) --Bea (Aunt Bea) -- Be(still) -- Beebe(gun) -- spelling Bee. Maybe you can think of some more. How about C? See(eyes) -- Sea (ocean) -- Seesaw (teeter totter) -- Si' (Senior). And that is just a couple of letters. Homonyms are pretty confusing. Read(today) read(yesterday). Bass(fish), bass(guitar). Refuse(won't do it), refuse(trash), re-fuse (put in new fuses). Hundreds more -- you know the drill. It must be a real chore to learn English with all the various different sounds for just one letter. It's tough to speak, let alone spell the Kings English we had thrust upon us. No wonder I can't spell.
I realize that most of my career has been "reading" commercials or news on radio or TV and not caring or needing to be concerned about spelling. After all, it wasn't a newspaper. As long as it sounded OK, I could spit out the words like a motor mouth whether they were spelled correctly or not. But it seems that we have all come back to writing to each other these days on phones and computers rather than speaking so much So I better get my act together and get with the program. What were some of the rules? E before I or was it I before E-- then what? -- I can't remember. I do know this. I know the best invention so far in this 21st century is one I use numerous times each day and many times on this blog -- I couldn't do without it! It is called the spell checker!
From the heart of Olaf Hart ....
Saturday, June 23, 2018
Are We There Yet?
Way back in my memory it seems to have started with a pig. Not a real pig -- but a big ceramic pig -- A really big piggy bank. The purpose of this pig was to gather dimes. And it worked. As the months rolled by, dad and mom would empty their pockets of all change and deposit all the dimes in this pig. Those little dimes are heavy. It got heavier and heavier. This swine depository was our vacation money. Sometime before the appointed departure day, we would open up the pig (he had a small removable hole in his tummy) and count the dimes. We were always surprised at the amount accumulated -- I don't know how much -- but it seemed like a lot to me. That paid for our vacation.
We were not dirt poor but we didn't have much if any discretionary income. So my parents in their wisdom saved their dimes so we could have a proper vacation every year. The chosen location was always Ideal Beach (later Indiana Beach) at Lake Shaffer near Monticello, Indiana. Let me tell you about this cabin we rented for a week at the ridiculous rate of $10 -- not a day -- but $10 a week! The cabin -- which was lined up in a row with several identical cabins -- all tucked in together -- had a central kitchen area with a table and chairs. There were two bedrooms walled off with nothing but drab heavy curtains -- no walls. A screened in front porch completed the little structure. It was not heated -- it had running cold water with a sink and a two burner gas cooking stove and an ice box -- NOT a refrigerator -- an ICE box -- which was supplied with ice by an ice man each day. There was NO bathroom -- a big central building housed crude rest rooms -- for the use of all the cabins -- one for men and one for women -- with a shower room with water heated by a big black, sun-heated tank on the roof. It was usually cold water. That little cabin was our home for the week. Oh yes -- along with the cabin came a row boat with oars. Dad rented a little outboard motor from a guy at home who had such items for rent for a small fee. It came with a gas can which one could fill for probably less than a dollar back then. We did this routine for a number of years -- we even rented the same cabin every year -- I think it was number 27. Maybe my folks were superstitious!
Almost as much as the actual experience of those vacations was the anticipation. The day came when we loaded up the old 36 Chevy with all our stuff -- we waved good bye to all our neighbors and headed north toward our haven for a week. We were so excited! As we whizzed along a few miles from town -- I thought we would never get there and I asked the traditional eternal question every kid has asked his parents a hundred times -- "Are we there yet?" Dad told me to be patient.
We finally arrived. We had prepared for this annual event for months in advance. Mom and Dad made out a menu so we could buy exactly what we needed and nothing more -- no wasted food. We could not eat out at a restaurant -- couldn't afford that. But we did splurge and brought along our own Pepsi Cola (it was bigger than Cokes) and beer by the case. My sister Susie and I saved our pennies and had our own little stash for some of the pleasures of that Shaffer Lake resort -- especially the salt water taffy made by the Sering family, who went from Crawfordsville to the resort each summer to their little booth to make and sell their wonderful taffy. They would draw a crowd when Mr. Sering would pull and slap the taffy together with his strong hands and arms from a hook on the wall. How he could make that candy talk back to him. It was probably not good for our teeth but it was so chewy and delilcious! We didn't care.
Then there was the big wooden classic Chris Craft motor boat called the "Wahoo IV" Susie and I did not yet understand Roman numerals and so it was known to us (to this day) -- not by its real name -- the Wahoo 4 -- but as the "Wahoo Ivy". We budgeted our little pool of funds for one ride on that boat -- what a thrill! The owner of that boat also had a miniature golf course which cost a dime and a free game if you sunk the last hole in one shot. There were arcades and rides and the toboggan water sled and the roof garden, where an ice cold coke in a bottle was a nickle -- it was a wonderland for a couple of kids for a whole week.
While other folks had a big powerful boat to cruise around the lake -- we had our little row boat with the dinky little outboard motor. But that was OK -- we would follow the big boats around and "Ride the waves" from their wake -- the bigger the better. Once an a while someone would come by on water skis -- and we had our own show right there on the lake and we would cheer for the skier as they came by. We didn't need Cypress Gardens! We just loved to lay around in that little boat and get as tan as we could. One special night we would get into or little rowboat and row out beside the lakeside dance hall -- Susie and I got to stay up for this late night adventure. The live band would play and we could see the reflected colored lights shimmering on the lake. and the dancers and the music as it surfed out over the lake. It was magic.
Susie and I had a little sister back then -- Mary Ellen. I need to mention her. Unfortunately she was born with such fair skin she simply could not be in the sun for any time. She came only once and had to be taken back home. From then on, she stayed with our grand parents and had a wonderful time being spoiled. Emmy -- as she became know from her initials -- died a few years ago from lung cancer. RIP little Emmy.
No, we didn't have much money -- and some neighbors and family thought it rather extravagant of our parents to spend money we couldn't afford every year on a vacation. BUT -- Hey folks -- I am in my 80's and I am still remembering with so much pleasure those days at Lake Shaffer. I treasure those memories --- wouldn't trade those vacations for any new car or better house or anything ever. Thanks mom and dad -- wherever you are.
From the heart of Olaf Hart ...
We were not dirt poor but we didn't have much if any discretionary income. So my parents in their wisdom saved their dimes so we could have a proper vacation every year. The chosen location was always Ideal Beach (later Indiana Beach) at Lake Shaffer near Monticello, Indiana. Let me tell you about this cabin we rented for a week at the ridiculous rate of $10 -- not a day -- but $10 a week! The cabin -- which was lined up in a row with several identical cabins -- all tucked in together -- had a central kitchen area with a table and chairs. There were two bedrooms walled off with nothing but drab heavy curtains -- no walls. A screened in front porch completed the little structure. It was not heated -- it had running cold water with a sink and a two burner gas cooking stove and an ice box -- NOT a refrigerator -- an ICE box -- which was supplied with ice by an ice man each day. There was NO bathroom -- a big central building housed crude rest rooms -- for the use of all the cabins -- one for men and one for women -- with a shower room with water heated by a big black, sun-heated tank on the roof. It was usually cold water. That little cabin was our home for the week. Oh yes -- along with the cabin came a row boat with oars. Dad rented a little outboard motor from a guy at home who had such items for rent for a small fee. It came with a gas can which one could fill for probably less than a dollar back then. We did this routine for a number of years -- we even rented the same cabin every year -- I think it was number 27. Maybe my folks were superstitious!
Almost as much as the actual experience of those vacations was the anticipation. The day came when we loaded up the old 36 Chevy with all our stuff -- we waved good bye to all our neighbors and headed north toward our haven for a week. We were so excited! As we whizzed along a few miles from town -- I thought we would never get there and I asked the traditional eternal question every kid has asked his parents a hundred times -- "Are we there yet?" Dad told me to be patient.
We finally arrived. We had prepared for this annual event for months in advance. Mom and Dad made out a menu so we could buy exactly what we needed and nothing more -- no wasted food. We could not eat out at a restaurant -- couldn't afford that. But we did splurge and brought along our own Pepsi Cola (it was bigger than Cokes) and beer by the case. My sister Susie and I saved our pennies and had our own little stash for some of the pleasures of that Shaffer Lake resort -- especially the salt water taffy made by the Sering family, who went from Crawfordsville to the resort each summer to their little booth to make and sell their wonderful taffy. They would draw a crowd when Mr. Sering would pull and slap the taffy together with his strong hands and arms from a hook on the wall. How he could make that candy talk back to him. It was probably not good for our teeth but it was so chewy and delilcious! We didn't care.
Then there was the big wooden classic Chris Craft motor boat called the "Wahoo IV" Susie and I did not yet understand Roman numerals and so it was known to us (to this day) -- not by its real name -- the Wahoo 4 -- but as the "Wahoo Ivy". We budgeted our little pool of funds for one ride on that boat -- what a thrill! The owner of that boat also had a miniature golf course which cost a dime and a free game if you sunk the last hole in one shot. There were arcades and rides and the toboggan water sled and the roof garden, where an ice cold coke in a bottle was a nickle -- it was a wonderland for a couple of kids for a whole week.
While other folks had a big powerful boat to cruise around the lake -- we had our little row boat with the dinky little outboard motor. But that was OK -- we would follow the big boats around and "Ride the waves" from their wake -- the bigger the better. Once an a while someone would come by on water skis -- and we had our own show right there on the lake and we would cheer for the skier as they came by. We didn't need Cypress Gardens! We just loved to lay around in that little boat and get as tan as we could. One special night we would get into or little rowboat and row out beside the lakeside dance hall -- Susie and I got to stay up for this late night adventure. The live band would play and we could see the reflected colored lights shimmering on the lake. and the dancers and the music as it surfed out over the lake. It was magic.
Susie and I had a little sister back then -- Mary Ellen. I need to mention her. Unfortunately she was born with such fair skin she simply could not be in the sun for any time. She came only once and had to be taken back home. From then on, she stayed with our grand parents and had a wonderful time being spoiled. Emmy -- as she became know from her initials -- died a few years ago from lung cancer. RIP little Emmy.
No, we didn't have much money -- and some neighbors and family thought it rather extravagant of our parents to spend money we couldn't afford every year on a vacation. BUT -- Hey folks -- I am in my 80's and I am still remembering with so much pleasure those days at Lake Shaffer. I treasure those memories --- wouldn't trade those vacations for any new car or better house or anything ever. Thanks mom and dad -- wherever you are.
From the heart of Olaf Hart ...
Monday, June 18, 2018
Here comes the Sun
I have been waiting for days to write this blog. My favorite day of the year is coming! First -- a little history....
Stonehenge -- as you probably know - is an ancient site in Scotland where the Druid are thought to have practiced their religious cult. But it has an interesting structure. By standing at a certain point, one can tell where the sun is and when it passes certain latitudes each year. This was apparently of the utmost importance to them.
Machu Picchu is an ancient Mayan city in the mountains of Peru where they survived centuries ago. Among the structures there is a site where the Mayans could foretell the position of the sun at any time. I have read -- some of the great pyramids in Egypt are built so the sun will shine down a shaft at certain special times of the year.
I have visited the ancient site of Chichen Itza and climbed the famous chopped off pyramid called El Castillo. That is a Mayan ruin in the jungle near the Mexican city of Cancun on the Yucatan Peninsula. Although that climb was a heart stopping experience -- the most interesting thing I found while visiting this ancient site was their tower and circle of cog-like rock formations with which they could tell at any moment in tine where the moon and Venus were located in the sky with respect to the Earth. This tower also told these progressive people where the sun was and when it passed the various latitudes on the earth's surface.
Now stay with me --- These three sites determined that on a certain day each year the sun's rays passed over the equator on its trip from the Tropic of Capricorn in the south and toward the Tropic of Cancer in the north where the sun seemed to stop and began to return to compete the cycle again. They knew this centuries ago.
Most of the folks on this earth thought that the sun moved about and would stay a little longer until a certain day when it began to move away -- then it would seem to slowly leave us. They were afraid it wouldn't come back. So, after lots of prayers to various Gods and various ceremonies and dances and even human sacrifices -- the sun (which they worshiped) would decided to return and do the whole thing again year after year. (It is thought that the approximate date upon which we celebrate Christmas might have been chosen because of this cycle of the sun's winter solstice December 21st). It was only a few years ago that our brilliant religious leaders admitted that maybe the earth was doing the moving and not the sun. I think the Mayans and maybe the Druids already knew that centuries ago.
Stay with me --- Some years ago -- I was privileged to go with some friends down to Baja California in Mexico to a fishing village called Rancho Buena Vista and fish for big Marlin in the Sea of Cortez. It was in late June. As we traveled from the Cabo Airport to our destination, we passed a huge sign beside the road near the entrance to the village which stated in huge letters TROPIC OF CANCER with a line across the road. We stopped and I took a picture.
One day during our trip, we took a day off from fishing and I found myself strolling along the beach all alone -- having a cold beer. It was June 21st and it was exactly noon and it was hot. There was a strange aura all about me. I saw a discarded beer can on the beach and an old abandoned boat. But something was wrong -- not wrong but different. Then it came to me. It was noon on June 21st and I was standing directly on the Tropic of Cancer. The sun was as directly over head as it would ever be anywhere on the earth and there were NO SHADOWS. The beer can and the boat had no shadows. I looked at my feet. I was standing entirely on my own shadow. It was weird! I had my camera and tried to take a picture but I couldn't capture that strange world where no shadows existed. I will never forget it.
I always think of that experience as we approach the summer solstice or the longest day of the year -- June 21st. I love this long day of sunshine -- I wonder if anyone is going to stand on their shadow on the Tropic of Cancer? -- Yes, I know the sun doesn't go anywhere -- the earth does all the moving. But I certainly understand why it doesn't seem that way. I will just go along with tradition -- I'm easy.
From the heart of Olaf Hart......
Stonehenge -- as you probably know - is an ancient site in Scotland where the Druid are thought to have practiced their religious cult. But it has an interesting structure. By standing at a certain point, one can tell where the sun is and when it passes certain latitudes each year. This was apparently of the utmost importance to them.
Machu Picchu is an ancient Mayan city in the mountains of Peru where they survived centuries ago. Among the structures there is a site where the Mayans could foretell the position of the sun at any time. I have read -- some of the great pyramids in Egypt are built so the sun will shine down a shaft at certain special times of the year.
I have visited the ancient site of Chichen Itza and climbed the famous chopped off pyramid called El Castillo. That is a Mayan ruin in the jungle near the Mexican city of Cancun on the Yucatan Peninsula. Although that climb was a heart stopping experience -- the most interesting thing I found while visiting this ancient site was their tower and circle of cog-like rock formations with which they could tell at any moment in tine where the moon and Venus were located in the sky with respect to the Earth. This tower also told these progressive people where the sun was and when it passed the various latitudes on the earth's surface.
Now stay with me --- These three sites determined that on a certain day each year the sun's rays passed over the equator on its trip from the Tropic of Capricorn in the south and toward the Tropic of Cancer in the north where the sun seemed to stop and began to return to compete the cycle again. They knew this centuries ago.
Most of the folks on this earth thought that the sun moved about and would stay a little longer until a certain day when it began to move away -- then it would seem to slowly leave us. They were afraid it wouldn't come back. So, after lots of prayers to various Gods and various ceremonies and dances and even human sacrifices -- the sun (which they worshiped) would decided to return and do the whole thing again year after year. (It is thought that the approximate date upon which we celebrate Christmas might have been chosen because of this cycle of the sun's winter solstice December 21st). It was only a few years ago that our brilliant religious leaders admitted that maybe the earth was doing the moving and not the sun. I think the Mayans and maybe the Druids already knew that centuries ago.
Stay with me --- Some years ago -- I was privileged to go with some friends down to Baja California in Mexico to a fishing village called Rancho Buena Vista and fish for big Marlin in the Sea of Cortez. It was in late June. As we traveled from the Cabo Airport to our destination, we passed a huge sign beside the road near the entrance to the village which stated in huge letters TROPIC OF CANCER with a line across the road. We stopped and I took a picture.
One day during our trip, we took a day off from fishing and I found myself strolling along the beach all alone -- having a cold beer. It was June 21st and it was exactly noon and it was hot. There was a strange aura all about me. I saw a discarded beer can on the beach and an old abandoned boat. But something was wrong -- not wrong but different. Then it came to me. It was noon on June 21st and I was standing directly on the Tropic of Cancer. The sun was as directly over head as it would ever be anywhere on the earth and there were NO SHADOWS. The beer can and the boat had no shadows. I looked at my feet. I was standing entirely on my own shadow. It was weird! I had my camera and tried to take a picture but I couldn't capture that strange world where no shadows existed. I will never forget it.
I always think of that experience as we approach the summer solstice or the longest day of the year -- June 21st. I love this long day of sunshine -- I wonder if anyone is going to stand on their shadow on the Tropic of Cancer? -- Yes, I know the sun doesn't go anywhere -- the earth does all the moving. But I certainly understand why it doesn't seem that way. I will just go along with tradition -- I'm easy.
From the heart of Olaf Hart......
Saturday, June 16, 2018
Fathers Day
This is Fathers Day weekend -- designed, I am sure, to create spending and help the revenue of retailers. But -- I am a free marketeer -- so that's OK with me. But it is a day we celebrate fathers ( and grandpa's etc.)
My dad wasn't perfect -- I will tell you that right off the bat. But who is? My dad was not a machinist -- although he was a good one and that is how he earned his living. He was not a lot of things he professed to be. So what was he? He was a MUSICIAN -- a trombone player. That is why he did those other things to get to his real love -- to play his horn and lead his band of fellow musicians. I am always reminded of Dan Fogelberg's song "Leader of the Band". Some words are such a perfect description of my relationship with my dad. "He gave a gift to me I know I never can repay -- His blood runs through my instrument and his song is in my soul". Dan, thanks for those words -- you must have had a dad like mine. I know for sure Dad and I could read each other's mind when we were playing a gig together. We were in the zone. We just didn't need words. WELL Enough of this maudlin stuff.
Dad was not a virtuoso on the trombone -- but he was good enough to satisfy his hundreds of followers at the American Legion, The Eagles, The Moose, The Elks and hundreds of other venues in his short lifetime. He instictively knew what to play for the crowd who was paying the bill. He could sense their mood and modify the music to fit it. He was a master at that. And it worked!
I started playing the trombone in the 5th grade once a week -- learning the SYB book one note at at a time. When I was able to play a few notes dad started teaching me how to play a little melody -- by ear. As time went on -- we would sit around -- sometimes in the back yard on a blanket -- and he would play and I would copy what he played. Then one fine day -- I remember it well -- he told me to play a song (Whispering) and he would play the same song but with something different -- that is called improvising or a better word is "Jammin'". That started me on a trip with scores of bands through college and the Air Force Band and as a semi professional musician, that I continue on to this day.
Dad left us far to early -- he was 51 when I got that awful call from a Park Ranger at Raccoon Lake -- giving my mother the phone for that sentence that has burned into my heart ever since -- "Daddy's Dead. He died of a heart attack!"
But, like I said, no more sad thoughts on this fathers day. Dad had a gig the next weekend and rather than cancel it -- I played in his place. It was what he would have wanted and it was what I wanted. People came and we celebrated his life. His Theme song was "Just One More Chance." I must admit -- It was pretty difficult to play that theme song for the last time -- but time and life goes on. And so it did.
So -- Dad -- you would be over 101 now. You wouldn't like being stiff and sore and unable to get around like you did when you died -- But -- You would love watching football as you loved to do. They have instant replay so good now that it is unbelievable. And the TV sets are enormous and they hang on the wall and you can carry them with one hand! And , Dad, you can use a phone in your car while your are driving -- and that same phone -- which is a little thing -- can give all sorts of information to settle arguments -- which you loved to start, I recall. You were never at a lack of an opinion. Well, hell, Dad, There are so damn many things that are so different -- we have computers that run everything now -- cars are about to drive themselves -- Oh one more thing -- the girls at the beach wear such tiny little bathing suits -- I KNOW that would get you all excited. I don't have time to tell you all the latest stuff that we have now that you didn't even dream of back in the 60's when you left us. Life has certainly changed a lot. It would blow your mind.
But I am guessing -- although I don't know for sure -- that you already know about those things. Well, anyway -- Happy fathers day, Dad. I need to play a few notes to warm up the old trombone I have a gig tomorrow at the VFW. I know you will be there helping me out when I start to hit a wrong note. You always are. I love you dad..... Thanks for everything.
From the Heart of Olaf Hart.....
My dad wasn't perfect -- I will tell you that right off the bat. But who is? My dad was not a machinist -- although he was a good one and that is how he earned his living. He was not a lot of things he professed to be. So what was he? He was a MUSICIAN -- a trombone player. That is why he did those other things to get to his real love -- to play his horn and lead his band of fellow musicians. I am always reminded of Dan Fogelberg's song "Leader of the Band". Some words are such a perfect description of my relationship with my dad. "He gave a gift to me I know I never can repay -- His blood runs through my instrument and his song is in my soul". Dan, thanks for those words -- you must have had a dad like mine. I know for sure Dad and I could read each other's mind when we were playing a gig together. We were in the zone. We just didn't need words. WELL Enough of this maudlin stuff.
Dad was not a virtuoso on the trombone -- but he was good enough to satisfy his hundreds of followers at the American Legion, The Eagles, The Moose, The Elks and hundreds of other venues in his short lifetime. He instictively knew what to play for the crowd who was paying the bill. He could sense their mood and modify the music to fit it. He was a master at that. And it worked!
I started playing the trombone in the 5th grade once a week -- learning the SYB book one note at at a time. When I was able to play a few notes dad started teaching me how to play a little melody -- by ear. As time went on -- we would sit around -- sometimes in the back yard on a blanket -- and he would play and I would copy what he played. Then one fine day -- I remember it well -- he told me to play a song (Whispering) and he would play the same song but with something different -- that is called improvising or a better word is "Jammin'". That started me on a trip with scores of bands through college and the Air Force Band and as a semi professional musician, that I continue on to this day.
Dad left us far to early -- he was 51 when I got that awful call from a Park Ranger at Raccoon Lake -- giving my mother the phone for that sentence that has burned into my heart ever since -- "Daddy's Dead. He died of a heart attack!"
But, like I said, no more sad thoughts on this fathers day. Dad had a gig the next weekend and rather than cancel it -- I played in his place. It was what he would have wanted and it was what I wanted. People came and we celebrated his life. His Theme song was "Just One More Chance." I must admit -- It was pretty difficult to play that theme song for the last time -- but time and life goes on. And so it did.
So -- Dad -- you would be over 101 now. You wouldn't like being stiff and sore and unable to get around like you did when you died -- But -- You would love watching football as you loved to do. They have instant replay so good now that it is unbelievable. And the TV sets are enormous and they hang on the wall and you can carry them with one hand! And , Dad, you can use a phone in your car while your are driving -- and that same phone -- which is a little thing -- can give all sorts of information to settle arguments -- which you loved to start, I recall. You were never at a lack of an opinion. Well, hell, Dad, There are so damn many things that are so different -- we have computers that run everything now -- cars are about to drive themselves -- Oh one more thing -- the girls at the beach wear such tiny little bathing suits -- I KNOW that would get you all excited. I don't have time to tell you all the latest stuff that we have now that you didn't even dream of back in the 60's when you left us. Life has certainly changed a lot. It would blow your mind.
But I am guessing -- although I don't know for sure -- that you already know about those things. Well, anyway -- Happy fathers day, Dad. I need to play a few notes to warm up the old trombone I have a gig tomorrow at the VFW. I know you will be there helping me out when I start to hit a wrong note. You always are. I love you dad..... Thanks for everything.
From the Heart of Olaf Hart.....
Monday, June 11, 2018
Let a couple of kids work it out
Big news. Trump and Kim (is everyone in Korea named Kim?) are about to sit down or walk around or otherwise get together on an earth shattering matter. I hope they can work it out.
It brought back a thought from my distant past -- actually when I was about 10 or so. My dear friend Kevin lived across from me on a dead end street that had no outlet and hardly any traffic. Well -- there was a matter of difference between his parents and my parents -- something about parking a a mobile home at the end of the street which might have been onto their property just a mite. Kevin,s parents refused to allow this and our mobile home had to be moved. The fight was on. Kevin and I refused to talk to each other and even threw a few rocks across the street into each other's yard. And that went on for about two days until we realized that it wasn't working out too well for us. So we rather clandestinely became friends again -- but didn't say much to our parents -- they were not ready to get over it. But without verbalizing it -- we apparently become the adults in this stupid disagreement. It didn't take much -- just this ability to overlook our differences and get along with each other and with life. Just two little boys being the grown ups and being realistic.
This episode in my life was quite incidental and quite short lived and had nothing to do with our life long friendship (we are both in our middle 80's now and still friends). But for some reason it poked its way into my long term memory and came to the surface today as I thought of this world affecting conference the US President and the North Korean head and the conversations upon which they are about to embark.
Maybe they should let Kevin and me help them out. We knew how to end that disagreement crap pretty fast didn't we, Kev?
From the Heart of Olaf Hart....
It brought back a thought from my distant past -- actually when I was about 10 or so. My dear friend Kevin lived across from me on a dead end street that had no outlet and hardly any traffic. Well -- there was a matter of difference between his parents and my parents -- something about parking a a mobile home at the end of the street which might have been onto their property just a mite. Kevin,s parents refused to allow this and our mobile home had to be moved. The fight was on. Kevin and I refused to talk to each other and even threw a few rocks across the street into each other's yard. And that went on for about two days until we realized that it wasn't working out too well for us. So we rather clandestinely became friends again -- but didn't say much to our parents -- they were not ready to get over it. But without verbalizing it -- we apparently become the adults in this stupid disagreement. It didn't take much -- just this ability to overlook our differences and get along with each other and with life. Just two little boys being the grown ups and being realistic.
This episode in my life was quite incidental and quite short lived and had nothing to do with our life long friendship (we are both in our middle 80's now and still friends). But for some reason it poked its way into my long term memory and came to the surface today as I thought of this world affecting conference the US President and the North Korean head and the conversations upon which they are about to embark.
Maybe they should let Kevin and me help them out. We knew how to end that disagreement crap pretty fast didn't we, Kev?
From the Heart of Olaf Hart....
Wednesday, June 6, 2018
D Day
I heard on the news it was the anniversary of the Invasion of Normandy by our soldiers -- D-Day -- which pretty much ended the German part of WW II. Japan took a while and a couple of really big bombs. Those were some brave guys and what a sacrifice they made on D-Day. But they weren't the only people that sacrificed. World War II was fought by us all. I was about 6 when it started and about 10 when it ended -- so my view was from the eyes of a little boy growing up.
After Roosevelt's startling radio announcement on that Sunday morning -- December 7, 1941 -- Japan had bombed Pearl Harbor and we were suddenly in a war -- Uncle Ned was 18 and immediately enlisted in the army. We kept up by way of V-Mail letters from him -- copied and censored with blacked out lines -- but we all gathered around when one arrived. It was an event. He went from training to North Africa and then to the Anzio beachead in Italy. He came home after the war. His body was unscathed but his memory was not. I am sure he relived the war more that we will ever know.
However, there were lots of guys who were not qualified to go into the army (or navy etc.) Maybe they were too old or had special skills needed back home. My Dad (Uncle Ned's brother) was one of those guys. He tried to enlist but was rejected because he had a defense job at Allison Engineering in Indianapolis. They made big airplane engines. He was on the night shift -- working from midnight til 8 am -- seven days a week. We had to be quiet while he slept in the daytime. He and several other men drove to work every evening in a car that that could not be replaced on tires that could not be replaced with gas that was rationed.
I really remember the rationing. Each family had a book with stamps to be used for food -- especially sugar and coffee that were rationed. There were no candy bars or bubble gum. There was no Christmas candy or fudge. But we all knew it was for a good cause. I must admit that the black market was live and well. We got 5 pounds of sugar out of some guy's trunk one night and used it to make some fudge that evening. That was really special. I recall there was NO anti war protesting that I remember. Everyone was behind the war effort. No one would dare speak out against the war. We were all patriots. The boys learned to draw pictures of "TOJO" -- who ever that was -- not very complimentary -- with short hair and big teeth and slanted eyes. That was our little propaganda contribution. And Hitler was called the "one armed paper hanger!" -- referring to his "Hiel Hitler" salute. I didn't understand -- but laughed about it anyway. We mimicked the salute and did a Bronx cheer as we spit out the noise.
My grandpa was a neighborhood Civil Defense leader and had a hat and flashlight. We had to practice closing our curtains and turning off all the lights so enemy airplanes could not see us. Fortunately, there were never any enemy planes but we didn't know that and we were ready.
Each of the many homes with someone who was serving placed a flag in the window. We had one for Uncle Ned. If the loved one was still alive, the star was blue but the gold stars were displayed for those who would not be coming home. Some homes had two or three stars on their little flag. There were far to many gold stars in the neighborhood. We passed those homes with reverence.
It all seems like a dream now. It is unbelievable that over night we made jeeps and trucks and airplanes and ships, instead of cars. And we gave up our gas and tires for the war. We lived on rationed food for four years. The radio gave us news reports on the war. But we could get war news by going downtown to the local newspaper (Journal-Review) and checking on their front window where they would tape up bulletins for the public to read.
Yes the government did some questionable things. Japanese Americans were gathered up in California and sent away to internment camps to get them away from the west coast. The governmen thought there might be Japanese spies helping them bomb California. There was plenty of food and shelter in these camps -- but they were confined somewhere in the boon docks, and couldn't go home for many months. The past is 20/20 and that was probably wrong -- but we were scared. And who knows what that confining might have salvaged. They were eventually compensated for their confinement. Japanese Americans later proved themselves by enlisting in the army and fighting bravely for their country.
And in recent years, there has been a lot of talk about the necessity of dropping such a devestating bomb twice on the two Japanese cities -- destroying them completely and killing and maiming hundreds of citizens. Well - this old guy thinks it was a necessary act -- saving the lives of hundreds or thousands of American lives and as many or more Japanese. After Germany surrendered -- Japan would not give up. Those A-bombs were necessary -- nuff said.
Uncle Ned left as a boy but came home from the war a full-grown man. He and thousands of other men were sent home after fighting a terrible war and winning a great victory. Thousands of men did not come home. I tried to stay up to see Uncle Ned's return but it was late and I fell asleep. I was shaken awake and opened my eyes to see this big smile on Uncle Ned's face. I cried and wrapped my arms around his big healthy body. He still had on his uniform with medals and a patch that attracted my attention. When I asked him about it -- he said "That's my Ruptured Duck". I will always remember that night. It was a glorious night for the family.
Darlington, Indiana had a movie theater and the side of the building was solid bricks. The owner's son -- John Marshall -- climbed up on a ladder and painted in huge white letters "VJ DAY AUG 14 1945" -- That message remained for decades. No one wished to paint over it.
Yes the greatest war ever fought was over and we won and the world was happy once again. Both Germany and Japan came out pretty well, I think. They are both our buddies now. But I can't forget. It was a war we all sacrificed and fought in own way. Even little boys fought the war.
That's it from the heart of Olaf Hart
After Roosevelt's startling radio announcement on that Sunday morning -- December 7, 1941 -- Japan had bombed Pearl Harbor and we were suddenly in a war -- Uncle Ned was 18 and immediately enlisted in the army. We kept up by way of V-Mail letters from him -- copied and censored with blacked out lines -- but we all gathered around when one arrived. It was an event. He went from training to North Africa and then to the Anzio beachead in Italy. He came home after the war. His body was unscathed but his memory was not. I am sure he relived the war more that we will ever know.
However, there were lots of guys who were not qualified to go into the army (or navy etc.) Maybe they were too old or had special skills needed back home. My Dad (Uncle Ned's brother) was one of those guys. He tried to enlist but was rejected because he had a defense job at Allison Engineering in Indianapolis. They made big airplane engines. He was on the night shift -- working from midnight til 8 am -- seven days a week. We had to be quiet while he slept in the daytime. He and several other men drove to work every evening in a car that that could not be replaced on tires that could not be replaced with gas that was rationed.
I really remember the rationing. Each family had a book with stamps to be used for food -- especially sugar and coffee that were rationed. There were no candy bars or bubble gum. There was no Christmas candy or fudge. But we all knew it was for a good cause. I must admit that the black market was live and well. We got 5 pounds of sugar out of some guy's trunk one night and used it to make some fudge that evening. That was really special. I recall there was NO anti war protesting that I remember. Everyone was behind the war effort. No one would dare speak out against the war. We were all patriots. The boys learned to draw pictures of "TOJO" -- who ever that was -- not very complimentary -- with short hair and big teeth and slanted eyes. That was our little propaganda contribution. And Hitler was called the "one armed paper hanger!" -- referring to his "Hiel Hitler" salute. I didn't understand -- but laughed about it anyway. We mimicked the salute and did a Bronx cheer as we spit out the noise.
My grandpa was a neighborhood Civil Defense leader and had a hat and flashlight. We had to practice closing our curtains and turning off all the lights so enemy airplanes could not see us. Fortunately, there were never any enemy planes but we didn't know that and we were ready.
Each of the many homes with someone who was serving placed a flag in the window. We had one for Uncle Ned. If the loved one was still alive, the star was blue but the gold stars were displayed for those who would not be coming home. Some homes had two or three stars on their little flag. There were far to many gold stars in the neighborhood. We passed those homes with reverence.
It all seems like a dream now. It is unbelievable that over night we made jeeps and trucks and airplanes and ships, instead of cars. And we gave up our gas and tires for the war. We lived on rationed food for four years. The radio gave us news reports on the war. But we could get war news by going downtown to the local newspaper (Journal-Review) and checking on their front window where they would tape up bulletins for the public to read.
Yes the government did some questionable things. Japanese Americans were gathered up in California and sent away to internment camps to get them away from the west coast. The governmen thought there might be Japanese spies helping them bomb California. There was plenty of food and shelter in these camps -- but they were confined somewhere in the boon docks, and couldn't go home for many months. The past is 20/20 and that was probably wrong -- but we were scared. And who knows what that confining might have salvaged. They were eventually compensated for their confinement. Japanese Americans later proved themselves by enlisting in the army and fighting bravely for their country.
And in recent years, there has been a lot of talk about the necessity of dropping such a devestating bomb twice on the two Japanese cities -- destroying them completely and killing and maiming hundreds of citizens. Well - this old guy thinks it was a necessary act -- saving the lives of hundreds or thousands of American lives and as many or more Japanese. After Germany surrendered -- Japan would not give up. Those A-bombs were necessary -- nuff said.
Uncle Ned left as a boy but came home from the war a full-grown man. He and thousands of other men were sent home after fighting a terrible war and winning a great victory. Thousands of men did not come home. I tried to stay up to see Uncle Ned's return but it was late and I fell asleep. I was shaken awake and opened my eyes to see this big smile on Uncle Ned's face. I cried and wrapped my arms around his big healthy body. He still had on his uniform with medals and a patch that attracted my attention. When I asked him about it -- he said "That's my Ruptured Duck". I will always remember that night. It was a glorious night for the family.
Darlington, Indiana had a movie theater and the side of the building was solid bricks. The owner's son -- John Marshall -- climbed up on a ladder and painted in huge white letters "VJ DAY AUG 14 1945" -- That message remained for decades. No one wished to paint over it.
Yes the greatest war ever fought was over and we won and the world was happy once again. Both Germany and Japan came out pretty well, I think. They are both our buddies now. But I can't forget. It was a war we all sacrificed and fought in own way. Even little boys fought the war.
That's it from the heart of Olaf Hart
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