Frances Ellen Speaks!

Archive for the ‘Elderblog’ Category

Evidently, Tom knew what he was talking about!

“If the American people ever allow private banks to control the issue of their currency, first by inflation, then by deflation, the banks and corporations that will grow up around them will deprive the people of all property until their children wake up homeless on the continent their Fathers conquered… I believe that banking institutions are more dangerous to our liberties than standing armies… The issuing power should be taken from the banks and restored to the people, to whom it properly belongs.” – Thomas Jefferson

Guess what I just did? I bought a whole bunch of candy from the 1950′s. I’m gonna take a break from counting calories and instead I’m gonna enjoy some tastes from the 50′s.

Remember the lollipops that didn’t come with a stick? Instead they had a loop of something or other so you could fit your fingers through it. I got ‘em.

How about the coconut watermelon slices? Uh-huh!

Do you remember those wonderful wax bottles? I loved them. But no, I held myself back and didn’t order those.

Here’s what else I got:

Marshmallow Ice Cream Cones, Candy Lipsticks (they tasted sooooo gooood), Chocolate Gold Coins, Anise Bears, Turkish Taffy, Atomic Fire Balls.

I should’ve bought some Candy Buttons. Maybe next time.

Now all I have to do is wait for my package to arrive. You’re jealous, aren’t you?

photo from

Well, it’s official. I’m really, really old! Yesterday I had to explain what a pin boy was. This “back in the day” knowledge of mine rushes in and sometimes startles me. I can’t believe how much the world has changed since I entered it.

Anyway, for those who lack my firsthand knowledge–The pin boy’s job was to set the bowling pins up after they’d been knocked down. Each boy covered four or five lanes and on a busy night, you sometimes had to wait for him to reset your lane. He was also in charge of clearing downed pins if they tipped over and stayed in the playing field.

There were no electric contraptions coming down to pick up and swish the pins backward. Everything was done by muscle. Oh, and the pin boy had to place the bowling ball in the chute to return it to the player, too.

It may not sound like it, but being a pin boy was a pretty good job. Several kids I knew held the job and loved it, except for the times they got hit in the ankle by a flying pin or bowling ball. But they had elevated steps to stand on located between the lanes, so an experienced pin boy hardly ever got hit unless he was caught off-guard moving from one lane to another. Then the players would hear him scream, “ouch.”

Jeez. Now that I think about it,  I can remember when the guts of a computer took up an entire room…but that’s another “back in the day” story.

Back in the day, Halloween was sheer delight. No one worried about razors in apples, or the safety of the streets. Parents stayed at home and gave out candy. Kids went door to door showing off their costumes. (most homemade using a bit of ingenuity.)

Every year, after the trick or treating was over for the younger set, my mother circled around to the back of our house and returned through our front door dressed as a ghost, screeching and making sounds that I guess she figured a ghost might make. My father and I  always made quite a fuss until the ghost disappeared out through the back of the house again. A few minutes later, my mother would reappear, usually coming up from the basement steps. (Sheet stowed away for another year.)

We didn’t receive mini bars of candy, either. Full-size candy bars were the order of the day.

And nobody frowned about teenagers coming around for treats later in the evening. If people ran out of candy, they dropped nickels in the bags. Neighborhood stores stayed open and gave out great treats, and when I became one of those teenagers, my friends and I always stopped in at the local bar. We thought of it as “hitting up the drunks” (My mother would’ve passed out if she knew.) But the drunks handed out some A-#1 largesse. They’d take change off the bar, usually a lot more than a nickel, and drop it into our bags. They actually liked being included in the fun and asked about our costumes and laughed and joked with us.

Those were the days.

I had a need to write about something frivolous this week. With the downturn of the stock markets, and the low roads being taken by the politicians, I’m thinking I need to raise my spirits.

So here goes. If you look up the word frivolous on the internet, here are some of the things you find.

How would you expand the powers of the vice-presidency? I’d make it so they could fly in space anytime they want to.

There were other really good answers to this question, too. Like, “I’d give the VP the power to prosecute individuals for wearing white after Labor Day. ” If you want to see more, go to Booman Tribune.

How about this? Here’s the newest luggage model from Samsonite. Stop in at Core77  to see more frivolous, whacky stuff.

Are you up for a frivolous lawsuit? There are many, but here’s a good one.

In 1991, Richard Harris sued Anheiser-Busch for $10,000 for false advertising. Harris  claimed to suffer from emotional distress in addition to mental and physical injury. Why? Because when he drank beer, he didn’t have any luck with the ladies, as promised in the TV ads. Harris also didn’t like that he got sick sometimes after he drank. The case was thrown out of court.

Whenever I feel somewhat off-balance, I tend to do something frivolous. This week was no exception. My vacuum cleaner blew up. It’s been acting strange for quite a while now, so its refusal to budge another inch came as no surprise, really. I decided its breakdown was a sign that I should do something frivolous to make myself feel better. So, I ordered an iRobot Roombah to do all future vacuuming for me.

I think I need to give my little robot a name so I can call to it while it works. Hmmm.

It’s important to get rid of your mental noise once in a while, and you don’t need a balcony or a pier to do that. We’re all so busy, it’s hard to remember to take time out for quiet. Fortunately, it takes very little forethought to take an adult “time out.” For instance, try this some Saturday morning. The moment that you wake, but before you open your eyes, roll onto your back. Imagine yourself in your “happy place.” (You have one, don’t you?)

My serene spot is always by water. Maybe yours is in the mountains, or remembering sitting on your grandma’s lap with her arms wrapped around you. Whatever, or wherever–allow your imagination to drift away. Stay there for ten full minutes. What do you hear? Nothing, if you train yourself to do it right. This is where I go.

Don’t be afraid to daydream sometimes, either. Release the stress. Some people do that by writing a poem. This Daydream Haiku was written by Brigitte

The forest daydream,
Wherein I pick blackberries,
And find inner peace.

… inspired by daydreaming with a friend about moving to the mountains

DAME, too, suggests slowing it down a bit when things get too crazy.

…’today’ I’m a tad stressed. Generally I’m a go with the flow kinda girl but today the next few months seem positively overwhelming. Somehow just daydreaming about trouncing about in wool and bloomers carrying a feed bag, picking the flowers, baking the pie, and listening to the wind in the trees, is enough to catch a little mental relaxation.

No matter what you call it: time out, daydreaming, or mental relaxation–we all need it.