I came home from grocery shopping to find my mailbox flattened. The guy above mowed down a rose bush, destroyed my mailbox, missed my wife’s van by about a foot, bounced off a manhole cover in my front yard, and kept going down Kingway Drive at 10:14 a.m. on Sept 11.
I’d like to have a serious discussion with the driver about covering the cost of replacing the mailbox.
Dead mailbox
Flattened mailbox 09-11-2024
I thought I’d never have to replace it
When I put it in several years ago, I endeavored to make it as bulletproof as possible. I filled the pipe with concrete and rebar and set it in concrete two feet deep. I wanted some kid with a baseball bat to get a big surprise.
I hoped whoever ran over is going to have some serious body work to fix. They not only literally flattened the box, but they yanked the post out of the ground. I didn’t see a trail of liquids, so the vehicle might have had a strong enough bumper to protect it.
Yanked right out of the ground
Flattened mailbox 09-11-2024
I can view the security camera video, but it’s in a weird format that was going to take more trouble than it was worth to post.
By the way, the driver appeared to be bald or have short hair. If this was a crime show, some tech would be able to pull up the license tag, but I don’t have the skill or equipment to do it.
When the rains stop, I’ll replace it with something even more substantial.
P.S. In case you were wondering, I didn’t have any political signs in the yard.
It’s been a rocky start to the severe storm season. Grant Dade, KFVS weatherman, reported “43 county tornado warnings and 204 county severe thunderstorm warnings in our viewing area yesterday (May 8). We can all be thankful the low level shear was weaker than advertised or instead of sporadic storm damage today it would have been catastrophic.”
For the record, KFVS claims to cover 50 counties in four states, including all of SE MO, Southern Illinois, Western Kentucky and Northwestern Tennessee.
So, what’s with the pie?
Last year, I dilly-dallied around and missed strawberry season at Beggs’s Berry World at the Benton I-55 exit. I came within about a week of missing it again this year because of weather.
When I was checking out with my plastic gallon bucket of fresh strawberries, the cashier asked if I’d like one of the strawberry pies they had left. My arm didn’t have to be twisted.
I’m Johnny Strawberry Seed
Shortly after I had mastered the art of making cheesecakes, I was diagnosed with Type 2 Diabetes.
I was lamenting on my status to Museum Director Carla Jordan when she gave me a good piece of advice: “You don’t have to eat the whole cheesecake. Cut off an allowable slice, then distribute the rest to deserving folks so you won’t be tempted.”
With that in mind, I made the rounds of Cape friends and relatives, muttering, “Get thee behind me, Satan,” as I dropped off the goodies.
FYI. the unsliced berries in the pie pan was just to fill up the space.
In case you go looking, Beggs has moved to the opposite side of the I-55 exit. I went to the old location, proving that my GPS Lady in the Sky was wiser than I was.
Several years ago, John J. Lopinot, my old friend and chief photographer, thought that after half a century we were pretty much done with the topic of May 4.
He’ll probably continue to send me “NEVER FORGET” notes, though, until we lose either the transmitter or the receiver (or both).
What caused me to take another bite of an aging apple?
Why the change?
I was listening to an old playlist the other afternoon when John Fogarty came on singing this snippet:
Did you hear ’em talkin’ ’bout it on the radio Did you try to read the writing on the wall Did that voice inside you say I’ve heard it all before It’s like Deja Vu all over again
Day by day I hear the voices rising Started with a whisper like it did before Day by day we count the dead and dying Ship the bodies home while the networks all keep score
I’m hearing some of the same red-hot rhetoric that we heard in the 60s.
We’re getting older
[Note: this was taken when I was having breakfast in Scott Quad in 1967. The annotation was done by an irreverent Curator (now Director) Jessica of the SE Ohio History Center ]
A Facebook friend posted some memories noting that we were coming up on the 54th anniversary of the Kent State killings. I’m thinking about what could be a major project for Year 55.
The sad fact is that a lot of us may not be around to observe Year 60. So, we have to tell our stories while we’re still around.
I’m going to post links to many of the photos I took during the protest era. I’d love to have names and current contact info for as many as possible so I could interview and photograph some of us who lived through this era.
This post appeared on my bike blog in 2009. It recounted about how another photographer and I were going to stop at a surplus store in Marietta for gas masks and other riot gear before heading up to Kent State.
Along the way, we got the word about the shootings, picked up our gear and headed back to Athens.
Shortly after we crossed over into Athens county, a deputy pulled us over.
“We got a call from a surplus store over in Marietta that some student hippy-types were buying up riot gear and heading to Athens. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
I confessed that “that would be us.”
“Do you know anything I should know?” he asked.
“Just being ready,” I replied. “Your guess about what’s going to happen is as good as mine.”
A line of frat boys and jocks lined up to administer some street justice to students who didn’t look like them. It was one of the few student-on-student encounters I saw, and it didn’t last long.
The empty Chubb Library was occupied. Damage was minimal, if any.
On the other hand, this was the night newlywed Lila was going to host her first ever dinner party for us newsies. Unfortunately for me, all of us were otherwise occupied, and cell phones hadn’t been invented yet.
A solemn salt-and-pepper crowd spontaneously took over Court and Union. A miscue by Athens PD Capt. Charlie Cochran came close to touching off a serious riot.
Dean Kahler, was paralyzed when the National Guard opened fire. He was an innocent bystander 300 feet away from the closest shooter.
Follow the link to hear Dean in his own words.
“I knew I had been shot because it felt like a bee sting. I knew immediately because my legs got real tight, then they relaxed just like in zoology class when you pith a frog,” he said.
I remember the first time I went to Washington, D.C., and was overwhelmed when I discovered that buildings I had only seen in print and on TV were real.
Seeing the Kent State Pagoda where the Guard went on their killing spree brought May 4 to life for me.
The student was offering a state trooper sandwiches and drinks. The lawman’s good-natured expression seems to be saying, “You’ve got to be kidding me if you think I’d eat something you made.”
I climbed the steps of Lindley Hall to recreate this photo in 2013 when I was in town for an exhibit.
Some students saw me, so I walked over and said, “You know, the last time I stood on that landing and took a picture looking down Court Street it was May 15, 1970. Tear gas was wafting through the air and there was a National Guardsman with a rifle spaced about every 25 feet.”
“Really? Something happened here?” one of them asked, giving me a “is this old geezer harmless?” look.
I’ve chased these fine folks from Jackson to Cape, and now, back to Jackson at 215 West Main Street.
Angela greeted me like a long-lost friend when I showed up to pick up my food. (Wife Lila insisted that I stop calling her “Crazy Angela” when I first started eating at the place on a regular basis.)
I wish they stayed open longer than 10-3, but they do a booming takeout business. They really aren’t set up for on-site dining.
Angela keeps busy taking phone orders while her dad is ready to cook them.
Quantity is great; price reasonable
Mario and Angela’s Italian Eatery 03-07-2024
The calzone I bought on my first visit a couple of weeks ago was big enough for two meals and a snack.
I ordered the lobster, shrimp and scallop in Alfredo sauce, topped with shrimp today. It isn’t particularly pretty because the sauce covers all the goodies.
Trust me, though, the Alfredo sauce was as good as any you’ll find anywhere. There was enough for two meals, but it tasted so good that I polished it off in one pass.
