Malcolm Steinhoff Archives

June 14, 2014

They’re Building Kids Bigger

One of my most prized possessions as a kid was an air force uniform my folks bought me when I was in kindergarten or the first grade. I have no idea where they bought it – I’m going to guess Buckner-Ragsdale – nor why. We didn’t have a family tradition of military service, but I was sure proud to wear it.

It must have been buried back in Cape because I don’t recall taking any photos of Sons Matt and Adam in it.

We almost waited too long

It surfaced almost too late for Grandson Malcolm to put it on. The pants and sleeves were way too long, but the jacket was snug on him.

It’s Graham’s turn

When we went out to see Grandsons Graham and Elliot the other night, I said we should take the uniform with us to see if it would fit 3-year-old Graham. Wife Lila said it was way too big for him.

She was both right and wrong. The jacket sleeves were so long she had to roll them up, but he was big enough around that she had a hard time getting the buttons fastened. It’s hard to believe that a boy his age would be bigger in the chest than I was when I was 5 or 6. It’s not like there’s a dollop of fat on him, either.

He’s Buzz Lightyear

Graham wasn’t exactly clear what air force guys do, but he was prepared to save the world as Buzz Lightyear. We’ll have to keep a close eye on Elliot, who just turned 16 months old, to make sure he doesn’t outgrow the outfit in the next year.

March 23, 2014

I’m a Year Younger!

March 24th is my birthday. Like I wrote last year, since I thought I wouldn’t make it past 60, I haven’t paid much attention to birthdays.

Sunday afternoon, the Florida Clan (note “clan” is spelled with a “c,” not a “K”) descended on the house. In addition to Matt, Sarah, Adam, Carly, Malcolm, Graham and Elliot, Neighbor Bill and Friend Anne showed up for ribs, turkey burgers and birthday cake.

Miz Anne, bike partner and Road Warrior, had the temerity to ask me how old I was going to be. I suspect she was flaunting her youth.

“Sixty-eight,” I replied without hesitation, “if I make past midnight.”

“You’re not going to be 68”

“You’re not going to be 68,” Wife Lila responded. “You are only 66. You were born in 1947. You’re going to be 67.”

I didn’t bother to pull out a calculator because it was a given if I wanted to make it past midnight to whatever my new age was going to be, the right answer was, “Yes, Dear.”

(When I got back to my office, though, I pulled out my calculator and did the math. Not unexpectedly, she was right.)

So, I just got a year younger instead of a year older. (I wonder how many forms I filled out over the past 12 months where I claimed to be 67?)

I hate to break the news to Curator Jessica. She checks the obits every morning to see if she can lay claim to my Ohio photo collection for the Athens County Historical Society’s museum, and she’s going to be sorely disappointed to find out I’m not as old as she thought.. (Although, in her case, she has to stand on a stepladder to see 30, so I don’t know if she can tell the distinction between pretty old and REALLY old.)

By the way, you can click on the photo at the top of the page to see me celebrate my birthday with my Grandmother in Advance before my cute wore off.

February 14, 2014

World’s Oldest 3-Year-Old

Last weekend I went to a joint birthday party for Grandsons Elliot (who was 1) and Graham, who turned 3 on Valentine’s Day.

Civilized cake

You saw the photos of Elliot eating his cake last week. It’s pretty obvious why he got his own cake and the rest of us got pieces of this one.

Video of a boy old beyond his years

Much to Grandson Malcolm’s annoyance, I’ve always quizzed the youngsters about things that might be in their food. (He was taught at an early age to intone, “Bluuuuuuberries cause efluuuuvia.)

In this video, Graham in response to my questioning, assures me that his cake doesn’t contain rhinoceros tails, crocodile noses or hippopotamus hides. Beating me to my next offering, he says, “No alligators, just cake.”

Then, he cracks me up by holding a hand to his ear, making a face and solemnly saying “That music is too loud.”

I thought he had turned into Instant Old Man, but he DID let the other guests play on his lawn.

Taking little brother out for a drive

After the party broke up, Graham got his dad’s permission to take his little brother out for a drive for the first time. The kid’s a pretty good driver.

I’m going to buy him a compass for his dashboard to go along with his white belt and white shoes so he’ll fit in with the rest of Florida’s Old Man drivers.

Adam, Carly, Graham and Elliot are lucky enough to live in Loxahatchee, a rural section of Palm Beach County, on a gravel road that deadends at a canal. It’s a good place for Graham to drive if Dad or Mother is along.

January 31, 2014

Putt-Putt Golf Course

There has been some discussion on Facebook about the Putt-Putt Golf Course that was located on Independence across from Central High School. I was pretty sure I didn’t have any photos of it, but I sort of played hooky tonight, which led to this discovery.

Wife Lila and I got a late afternoon invitation to go to dinner with the boys, wives and kids. It was made more special by Grandson Malcolm announcing he had won first place in his elementary school science fair. He’ll represent his school in the next level of competition soon. He and Dad Matt built a trebuchet in his backyard and calculated the best pivot point to get the greatest throw range. So, if you need to launch a bucket of boiling oil at your neighbor, give third-grader Malcolm a call. (And, he emphasized, do NOT call it a catapult. They are similar, but different siege devices.)

[Editor’s Note: that wasn’t particularly relevant to the story. I just had to find a way to brag on my grandkid.]

Thanks to Steve McKeown

A year or so ago, Reader Steve McKeown sent me a whole flock of photos his dad, James D. McKeown III had taken. I was sifting through them when I saw these Putt-Putt photos. I wasn’t exactly sure what I was looking at (Steve didn’t provide any background with the photos), when I saw the building in the background. That pretty much convinced that it was on the east side of Sheridan south of Independence. The top photo and some others have railroad tracks in them, making me even more sure of the location.

Yep, Putt-Putt

The clincher was when I spotted the words “I Play Putt-Putt” on a sign behind the woman’s head. You can see the golf club handles behind her and a box containing scorecards, different colored golf balls and a roll of tickets.

Free Parking

One of the selling points of the Putt-Putt was free parking.

Wooden chairs for the weary

In case you got tired walking the course, Putt-Putt provided chairs built for two as a resting spot.

Grand opening in 1961

The only story that popped up in The Missourian was an Out of the Past column on June 12, 2011,that reported, “Grand opening of the new Putt-Putt Golf Course, a standardized miniature entertainment at 1739 Independence St., is set for next weekend; the 18-hole course is managed by Dean Brown and Kenny Hargens.