MENTAL CALISTHENICS

I have two quick questions for you, what is the capital of Nevada? What state is Montpelier the capital of? How did you answer these questions? Did you know the answers by heart or did you look them up? If you did either of these things good for you!

Too many people now days would say who cares. They would rather not exercise their minds, they do not enjoy the thrill that comes from finding things out through research.

A few years ago on PBS a motivational speaker named Leo Buscaglia told of how at the supper table every night his papa would ask each of his children what they had learned that day. Any child who didn't have an answer incurred papa's wrath.

This attitude towards learning, which use to be so prevalent seems to all but have disappeared in our rush about society. When your kids ask you a question how often do you tell them to look it up?

I remember asking my dad so many questions about words that he bought me my own dictionary and thesaurus just to get some peace. Dad's method of teaching worked well and I still enjoy keeping my mind busy and active. Try remembering things that you have forgotten and if you can't remember look it up.

You will be amazed at how good it feels to relearn things you once knew by heart but have forgotten. As an example complete this quote " The evil that men do lives after them, the good is oft interred with their bones."

For a little summertime lift, try some mental calisthenics and see if they don't put a little smile on your face. By the way the capital of Nevada is Carson City and Montpelier is the capital of Vermont.

MEMORY SEARCH

Do you ever wonder why good memories feel so good, bad ones hurt so much, and how these memories affect your life? Why were some events so important that they will stand out forever in your mind? How much is your life ruled by events of the past? I admit that I live in the past probably more than the average person. I can for instance diagram my Gram's house that I grew up in far more accurately than I can my last apartment.
But what I am wondering right now is how many incidents in my life, that I should remember clearly, I have no memory of at all. The worst of them is I can not remember ever hearing my dad laugh, I am sure he did but I just don't remember it and that makes me sad.

THREE LESSONS LEARNED

The other day I went fishing for a couple of hours and in that short space of time I learned or relearned three very important lessons: First, that the song of the loon is my second favorite sound, second only to the laughter of my grandkids. Second that it is hard to concentrate on your bobber when there is a Bald Eagle catching a fish only about fifteen feet from you and then he went up and spent a lot of time riding the air currents, Damn it was beautiful. Third, and probably the most important, I relearned that there are still nice people around, I had a plastic bottle of tea that had fallen in the lake and floated out to where I couldn't reach it. Three young men were launching their boat, and went out and retrieved my tea for me, and threw it to me, they didn't have to, they were just nice people.

I HATE KODAK EASY SHARE

Last night or early this morning I spent over an hour talking on line to a representatvie of easy-share. the end result----- I lost over 450 pictures, weddings, trips, fish, etc. I am so mad I am not sure that I trust myself to speak without cussing. I wish I was rich so I could sue the bums.

IF YOU CAN READ THIS THANK A TEACHER

With another school year almost over, memories take me back to those years long ago when I was a student. I remember some of the great teachers I had, I'm sure everyone had a great teacher, a teacher who literally made a difference between success and failure, one who could open up a new arena of thought just by talking to you, making a suggestion, helping you over a particularly rough spot.
The first teacher I remember is Mrs. Gardner. I was a student in a three room country school house with two grades per room. I was in the fifth grade at the time. I was sitting there supposedly working a math problem and she was speaking to the sixth grade about Julius Caesar. How I hung on every word since Caesar was one of my favorite subjects. I had read and studied about him for a couple of years at that point- the Roman Legions, the glory of Rome, all of it was an area of complete and total enchantment to me.
She asked a question regarding Caesar and I held up my hand, she looked a little shocked at me as she turned and said " yes Steve " . I gave her the correct answer, and she said " that's right Steve, but you are supposed to be doing math now." Darn, I hated math, I still don't care for it today, however my interest in Caesar continues unabated.
The next teacher would have to be Ruth Kline. I had gone back to school after having been on the road and in the service for a while. I had gone back to try to get my diploma, and I signed up for a speech class with Ruth Kline. The first speech we were assigned was to demonstrate a skill.
Not being an athlete nor mechanically inclined, I chose to demonstrate a skill picked up in the military. One that a few years in the service had taught me well... how to cheat at poker.
I took a deck of cards and very carefully how to build a top stock, a bottom stock, how to do a false cut, and how to deal seconds. I taught them about other cheating mechanisms, mirror rings, shiners, slick aces, etc. At the end of the class the kids seemed to have enjoyed my speech very much. As class let out, Mrs. Kline called me into her office and said " Steve I'll make you a deal, as far as your speech today goes, presentation was an A, your communication skills are obviously an A, but your subject matter leaves a lot to be desired. I will give you an A for the entire school year in speech class if you never come through that door again."
From then on I used fourth period as an extra study hall or lunch period, whichever I chose. There was a little store about a half block down from the school and you would go in and they would rip open a ten cent bag of Fritos and ladle a big scoop of home made chili across it, by the time you added a ten cent Coke, your lunch cost you thirty-five cents. A great buy and some wonderful memories.
Another teacher that I remember was Gracie Bruckner. She was my home room teacher in Junior High School. I had homeroom right after lunch. Now Mrs. Bruckner was a little old lady with Gray hair, who didn't care what we did as long as we were quiet in home room. We could use it for a study hall, we could sleep, whatever the student needed, with one exception.... she wanted us to listen. She read to us, and Grace Bruckner introduced me to the work of Ralph Moody--More commonly known as Little Britches.
The series of books he wrote were about the west and growing up in Colorado. About the trials and tribulations he and his mom faced after his dad died. This is still some of my favorite reading, but the joy was going in each day, knowing that there was another chapter of that book waiting to be read. It got me to school on many a day when otherwise I would have kicked back and said to heck with it.
The last teacher and the one who influenced me the most was a man who gave me the skills to enjoy and appreciated one of the loves of my life. His name was Earl Faulkner. I had Earl as both my junior and senior high band teacher. I was fortunate enough to be in his bands for six years, not just marching band, but concert band, Jazz band, Stage band, and so many others.
Earl gave me not only a love of music, but also pride in myself, pride in my accomplishments, and pride in who I was. Earl Faulkner was more than a teacher, he was a friend, a mentor, and an educator.
A few years ago a movie came out called Mr. Hollands Opus. It showed the career of a high school music teacher that spanned several decades. It struck a note within me that made me want to contact Earl Faulkner. I called his home only to find out that I was too late, Earl had died two years before that movie was made. Fortunately, I did get to see Earl, I saw him about five years before his death and told him what his friendship had meant to me. It wasn't just his friendship, it was his classes, his ability to know when things were wrong and do his bit to make them right.
Earl Faulkner, Thank You, this entry is dedicated to you from one of your students, I miss you Earl.

THE DANCE, THE BAND, THE GIRL

The junior high gym lights went out as the band teacher's voice came over the P. A. " And now, ladies and gentlemen, for your dancing enjoyment, we give you the music of Steve Brundy and the Dixicats!" A baby blue spotlight caught the bell of my Olds Ambassador trumpet as I played the first notes of Do You Know What It Means To Miss New Orleans? Slowly the circle of blue light enlarged to pick up the rest of the band.


Our drummer was Terry Coker, the toughest kid in town, who found more satisfaction in beating on his drums than on other kids. Bob Steele played clarinet. A real life cowboy, he was born on a cattle drive from Flagstaff to Williams, Arizona. Howard Clark was probably the brain of the group, an honor roll student who played on of the hottest slip horns I've ever heard. Jim Thornton played classical piano, or did until I convinced him to join our group. We were a diverse group, brought together by a common love--music.


I was the leader, mainly because the band was my idea and I put together the schedules. I conned the principal into giving us credit for the time we spent practicing, and got the key to the band room from the band teacher so we could rehearse before classes started in the morning.



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After the set ended, I was at the refreshment table, enjoying the praise of the band teacher and feeling comfortable for once at being around the principal. I was enjoying a glass of lemonade and feeling like the night couldn't possibly get any better, when it did.

" Hi Steve, " the voice said. I turned around and saw that it was Judy Ruckman, I had the same study hall she did, and although I couldn't say anything I had had a crush on her since the first day of school. " I really enjoyed your band and I think you are a really good trumpet player." She was to me at that time the most stunning thing I had ever seen. She was dressed in black, and as she spoke to me, it was as if I was transformed from a boy into a man. Thanking her, I asked if she would care for some lemonade, but she said she would rather dance.

As we moved onto the dance floor, the regular band started to play a Glen Miller medley, starting with MOONLIGHT SERENADE. That is the last song I remember from that night, even though we danced every dance for the next two hours. Her hair was brown, close cut, and soft against my cheek. She had a way of smiling that caused very pleasant sensations to course through my fifteen year old body. Although we had never before danced together, we moved in perfect unison. She was only five feet tall, but as I held her close during the slow dances, it seemed to me that God had designed her body to fit with mine.

She was a great conversationalist, knowing just the right questions to ask to bring out my youthful pride. I couldn't help feeling that I was the handsome prince, the Junior high dance was the masked ball, and Judy was my Cinderella. As the last dance of the evening was played, I asked Judy if I could walk her to her car. As we walked slowly away from the school, toward the parking lot, we found an area of the sidewalk that was shielded from view by several large shade trees. Quickly our arms were around each other, and our lips met in a kiss, a kiss that was tentative yet filled with passion and promise.

The Dixicats went to the state music festival that year, placed first in our division, and got the only trophy I ever remember winning. That was the end of Junior high, and over the summer the band broke up , as most bands do. Jim, the piano player, moved away and I never heard from him again.

With high school came different interests. Terry became the school's leading full-back. Bob Steele started making money ranching and rodeoing. Howard's spare time had to be devoted to studying to maintain his 4.0 gpa. Since we all stayed in band, we saw each other at practices---lots of practices! We practiced for marching band, Stage band, dance band, and concert band, but somehow, even with all that, it was never the same.

We saw each other at our high school reunion a few years ago. Terry Coker, the would be tough guy, became a deputy sheriff in southwest Colorado. Howard the brain went on to medical school and is a doctor on a Navajo reservation. Bob Steele, my buddy was killed when he got caught under a bull at a rodeo.

As for Judy, she and I started dating after the dance and never stopped, even after she became my wife two years after we graduated. Like any young married couple we had good times and bad times--- times when we lived on popcorn and grilled cheese, and times we ate steak and lobster. But no matter what we had or didn't have the friendship and the love was always there, right up to the horrible day we came home from shopping and she said she was going to go lay down. I heard a noise in the bedroom and when she didn't answer I rushed into the room to find my wife, dead on the floor. The doctors said that every blood vessel in her head burst at once and she was dead before she hit the floor.

Judy has been gone for many years, but when I think of her, I remember that night-- the joy, the music, the love----and I smile.

SORRY

SORRY, I HAVEN'T POSTED LATELY BUT I AM SICK WITH PNEUMONIA, BEEN TO HOSPITAL TWICE, AND NO RELIEF, WILL WRITE MORE WHEN I FEEL BETTER