IN BLACK AND WHITE DAYS

You know, before there was color in the world. Actually in this part of the world there was color, but overseas, on the other side of the pond, the world was only seen as a black and white tv show.

At about junior high age, American girls started shaving their legs. Not so in some other parts of the world. Same for armpits. When nylons didn't connect to the panties, garter belts were what held them up. Remember, I told you these were black and white days.

Where am I going with this? Of all the images that came to mind when I saw this photo, the first was about a French girl. Annike, who sat next to me in my English IV class.

She also dated a good friend of mine. Who heard an awfully lot from other guys about Annike's hairy legs. I knew he liked her a lot, so I never mentioned it to him. But she wore the hose, the hair got matted down so bad that it looked like black little worms washed up on the shore.

These were the days of the mini skirts, so Annike's legs were often on display. Had she been a foreign exchange student a decade later, when bell bottoms were in vogue, most would probably have never known.

In my later college years, there were a few rebels who decided not to shave, but most I knew were blonde and thus not as distinguishable. Annike was harrier than most of the guys, including her boyfriend, so maybe it was a jealousy thing.

Or maybe it was just time to make a tv adjustment and get that color on the scene.

YOU HAD TO KNOW I'D CHIME IN

on the McGwire hire. No, I didn't wait to see what others said before forming my opinion or writing my blog entry.

Although STL sports writer Bernie Miklasz, my favorite sports writer of all-time, well maybe second to Bill Murray of the LA Times, did a beautiful and thoughtful expose in Tuesday's column, he didn't quite cover all the bases.

As a golfer, I admire the player who calls a penalty on himself, even when no one else could see. Totally unlike the baseball player who deceives and claims he caught the ball when he knows he didn't. Also he knows re-plays will confirm it. So the honesty factor is out the window.

As the World Series began this week, we see some steroid users playing. There were at least two more in the Cardinal/Dodger divisional series. So if we have established that it's ok to openly cheat, then why should anyone disparage McGwire for using a substance that wasn't even illegal for baseball players back then?

Am I supporting McGwire? No. In fact I would prefer that the Cardinals junk the Big Mac Land in left field. Was I disappointed in his Senate testimony? Certainly. The one thing he said that really irked me was that he would work to get out the message to high school students that steroids were bad. If he ever performed any such activity, it was not covered by the press.

But I still don't understand why Bonds and McGwire and to some extent Clemens took all the heat for steroid use. When there were many, many others. Just being honest shouldn't be the sole basis for forgiveness. They cheated. Just like the spit ball pitchers, the pine tar users, the nail file usage by Phil Niekro, ad infinitum. They should all be banned from the game. (Notice I didn't call it a sport.)

Well, I guess I'm waffling here. (Not so much as throwing in the towel.) So Mark have at it, I guess. While I don't think it was a good hire anymore than the Mannyland crowd in LA or the ARod, Big Papi, or Andy Petitte supporters. And there are lots more just as guilty. So just "Cheer the Cheaters". That's what it comes to these days. Hey it works for the NFL, too. Right Patriot fans?

TRIO

A friend of mine taught me a lesson last night. He's a medical doctor or as I once read, "he's the kind of doctor that helps people," as opposed to the PhD, I suppose.

This is the first year we have been in a small discussion group in our BSF Bible Study Fellowship. Along with 13 others or so.

This year we are studying the book of John. Chapter 4 about the Samaritan woman at the well. Last week in Chapter 3 we examined Nicodemus and his conversation with Jesus. So one of our study questions was to compare and contrast the two.

Our discussion leader asked that we give the similarities first. After a few responded, my friend gave his answer, but he also included differences. One in our group attempted to correct him by saying, "We are only giving similarities." He responded, "I'm giving similarities and differences. It's the only way to do it."

There you have it. A few smiles and chuckles because he delivered it matter of factly with a hint of sternness.

So what did I learn? That the very smart and the very uninformed have a commonality. They only see black and white. There's one answer, and that's it. The rest of us see a lot of gray, see a lot of different possibilities, but the two polar opposites aren't so opposite on some things after all.

FRANKLY, MY DEAR

This quote is so much better than the "Frankly", quote most know from GWTW. To me it's better than the kissing quote from Bull Durham. The one where Costner talks of what he likes, including the 7th inning stretch. But part of it may be Gable/Olivia far exceeding Costner/Sarandon.

I, lover of words, appreciate the wording. The emphasis on kissed and often by placing the conjunction and between. That totally sets up the second and by more emphasis on by one who knows how.

Of course everyone knows how to kiss. But some do it so much better.

Without getting specific at all, it got me thinking about the last part of the quote "who knows how". Now granted, I've had a lot of time between first kisses, junior high/high school/college kisses and the ones I have enjoyed most, but I'm always analyzing, reflecting, remembering.

My conclusion. Most of the ones I have kissed were pretty forgettable. That is, I can't remember how they kissed. Oh, a few. Some surprisingly as I reminisce were not very good. And what makes me a judge? Because I was the kissee.

Any more discussion is likely to get me in trouble. A question perhaps, such as "and just who were the memorable kissers"? My honest reply,"Just you, Hon."

THEY'RE ALL DIFFERENT

As an art project in grade school, we were assigned an apple to carve a face in. Then we were to sit the apple in the window and allow time to form its features.

By Halloween our apples had their own distinct appearances. Mine didn't look much like the one pictured. Or maybe mine was just carved earlier allowing severe wrinkled curtains in its face.

Halloween served well because most looked like witches. And I'm sure Mrs. Cross had grown tired of pumpkins annually covering her windows to the west. I don't recall any turkeys drawn for display at Thanksgiving either.

She was a creative art teacher who also assigned paper mache projects that were fun. I still have a faint whiff of the paste smell that filled our classroom.

The first assignment she gave was to crease a piece of paper lengthwise and write our names in large cursive. Then we rolled and rolled the paper until a mirror image formed on the other side. Then we created a picture, abstract or actual, that joined the two.

I remember thinking that Dee Ann Ford had to be the coolest name because her art work was the best. It was sometime later that I realized that Dee was simply the best artist.

We kept my apple for more than one season if I recall. How my Mom packaged it and kept it "fresh", I don't remember.

With Halloween approaching, you better get busy carving or your apple won't look witchy enough.

POLLY WOLLY

Polly is one of those words that you can just repeat. You know, say it over and over and it won't be long before it becomes funny.

Or stupid, I guess. I don't think this picture is of a polliwog, it's far too big, but it made me think of one. Which got me to thinking about Polly Wolly Doodle all the day. Or Polly want a cracker? Why would a parrot want a cracker anyhow?

I met a guy from Bolivia yesterday who had a parrot on his shoulder. The parrot's name was Blondie. She was 18. He about 70. He said Blondie should live to be 80, so he drew up a will and is leaving Blondie to his son. The point? Blondie didn't want or have any need of a cracker. The guy's collar was attractive enough to her.

"Maybe you have to figure out who you were before you can figure out who you want to be." Noah Bennett from the tv show Heroes. I like that quote and it directly relates to Polly. Somehow.

If Steffie Graff, the athlete, got married in one of those states that allow same sex marriages, to a woman named Polly, would her partner be named Polly Graff?

IT'S COMING

I hear from Those Who Know that the armadillo has made an appearance in JeffCo, IL. Now that's not good news for MTV folks. The armor plated guy is just a no good.

Much like groundhogs. They can't even predict the weather on the one day that anyone gives much thought about them. Unless you happen to live by a woods and chase those crazy things from away from your house. They and the armadillo are unworthy denizens to a community.

Now how to get rid of them. Well, I might as well end my missive now. Because I certainly have no answer. Well, as you know by now, I have one; I'm just building to a crescendo.

My answer came to me from our pool maintenance guy. I give him golf balls that have seen better days. He especially likes the ones of color. He lines them up and shoots a rifle at them, improving his skills. So how does that give you an answer. Hey, crescendo building takes awhile.

A few weeks ago, my yellow rubber-looking but 100% plastic ducky that holds the chlorine for the pool, bit the dust. Chlorine is like that eating away at plastic. My pool guy enthusiastically said he would throw him away for me.

After he left, I check the garbage can outside where he dumps the leaves and junk that falls into the pool. No ducky. Now you and I know that the duck became target practice. A larger target than golf balls, but just as colorful.

Now wasn't the build up worth it?

I'll leave the armadillo specifics up to you loyal reader(s). But don't forget to include the groundhogs, too. Not the little ones--just the ugly big ones. After all, I am a compassionate guy. I checked on my ducky didn't I?