REMINISCIN' - Archived
By Julie M. Fidler

Oct. 29, 2003

Sweaty, Chintzy, Flammable Masks

I just spent over 16 bucks to turn my already bony kid into a skeleton.

That's what it cost to buy the Halloween costume 10-year-old Nick wanted. What is the world coming to when a skeleton costume costs 16 bucks? And the kid didn't appreciate my money-saving offer to paint him white and let him trick or treat naked.

I don't think my parents paid over 2 clams for any of my Halloween costumes when I was a kid. Then again, the costumes were crap in the '60s and '70s. box end.jpg (14459 bytes)

One year, I was a skeleton. The costume consisted of a black jumpsuit, made of some highly flammable, chemical-based, itchy material with bones painted on it and strings at the back of the neck to tie it closed. It came with a chintzy, thin plastic mask that covered most of my face and was strapped onto my head with a piece of elastic that broke the first time I tried the mask on. The elastic had to be stapled back to the mask, causing it to crack and tear, numerous times. Now, that's scary stuff, kids!

When I was trick or treating age, I always chose to be something scary. No stupid fairy princesses here. The only costume I picked out that wasn't intended to be scary was a Batman one, based on the 1960s TV show. Otherwise, I was a witch, monster or something undead. There really wasn't a great deal to chose from.

devil costume.jpg (14336 bytes) My brother and I would usually get our costumes from either Kmart or Ben Franklin. There, they were stored on the shelves in neat rows of thin cardboard boxes. The end of each box had a white rectangle on it, whereupon words such as "RAGGEDY ANN CHILD M (10-12)" would be printed.

The box had cellophane on the top of it so you could see the mask and so that hooligans could punch their fingers through it and smash the noses on those flimsy masks. You had to be careful, because the costume you'd find in one of the boxes sometimes didn't match the writing on the box or masks would get switched.

These costumes were made by a company called Ben Cooper. I don't think they're in business any more.

My brother, Mike, and I used to cut up some of Mom's old nylons and glue oval-shaped pieces to the inside of our masks to cover the eye holes. We didn't want anyone being able to see our eyes and guess who was behind the mask. Of course, there were invariably the old neighbor ladies who would bend down, say "Oh, aren't you cute?" and make us tell them who we were before they'd give up the candy. I hated that.

Some of the masks had a slit where your mouth was and perhaps nostril holes if you were lucky. These holes were never quite big enough to keep a kid from suffocating, and our breath would condensate, making the inside of the mask wet, hot and slimy. This is why we'd often lift our masks and perch them atop our heads between porches. I can still feel the brisk Halloween night air hitting my face.

Sometimes we were able to save a costume from one year to the next. When that was the case, we'd go out on Beggar's Night the night before Halloween and see who we could convince to give us some loot. And, if we had built up three costumes that still fit, better yet – we'd wear one on Beggar's Night, hit the neighborhood on Halloween in the second one, go home and change into the third, and head out for even more sweets. Mike always took an empty pillowcase to make sure he had plenty of room to store all the goodies.

I realized it was my last Halloween to trick or treat when I couldn't find one of those cheap costumes to fit me. So, I dressed up as a hobo and went anyway.

Here's hoping you have a happy Halloween and can afford a costume!

Oct. 15, 2003

Celebrating the Life of Mr. Powell

As I write this, I'm preparing to go to the funeral of a dear friend. Although I'm mourning his loss and am sad to say goodbye, I'm happy for him. I'm happy because, never in my life have I been more certain that someone is going to keep company with Jesus than I am right now.

There's no doubt in my mind that Wilson Powell has gone on to something even better than what he had here on Earth, and he'll be rewarded for being the most selfless person who spent time among us.

I met Mr. P. shortly after I graduated from Arkansas College. From then on, I had the privilege of hanging out with him every weekday (and some long election nights or other assignments) for the next 15 years at the Guard-Record Co. office where he was accountant/business manager.

His office also served as one of the most comprehensive, compact archives for north central Arkansas history anyone's ever assembled. As time went on,am right now.

There's no doubt in my mind that Wilson Powell has gone on to something even better than what he had here on Earth, and he'll be rewarded for being the most selfless person who spent time among us.

His office also served as one of the most comprehensive, compact archives for north central Arkansas history anyone's ever assembled. As time went on, more and more files, boxes, documents, papers and books encroached on Mr. P.'s workspace until he had very little room left for his chair and manual typewriter.

We tried to get Mr. P. a computer or a word processor, but he wouldn't hear of it. We finally did talk him into an electric typewriter. I worked to help him learn how to use the new typewriter, but before I left the Guard in 2000, I noticed the electric machine, complete with all its bells and whistles, sat upon a stack of old newspapers, and Mr. P. was plunking away at that old Royal, working on his weekly column.

Mr. P. got more correspondence than one person could possibly keep, more and more files, boxes, documents, papers and books encroached on Mr. P.'s workspace until he had very little room left for his chair and manual typewriter.

Mr. P. got more correspondence than one person could possibly keep up with, most of it from people wanting information about their ancestors. One by one, Mr. P. would dig out books and files he thought would be useful for them and try to answer every single one, no matter how much time and digging it took.

I don't remember my first conversation with Mr. P. or exactly when we became friends. But, I'd venture to say it was within a few minutes past 8 a.m. on Sept. 9, 1985 – my first day on the job.

I was fresh out of college, wet behind the ears and hired to cover the police beat. That meant not only going to the police station every day to pick up reports and look at the dispatcher's log, but it alp up with, most of it from people wanting information about their ancestors. One by one, Mr. P. would dig out books and files he thought would be useful for them and try to answer every single one, no matter how much time and digging it took.

I don't remember my first conversation with Mr. P. or exactly when we became friends. But, I'd venture to say it was within a few minutes past 8 a.m. on Sept. 9, 1985 – my first day on the job.

I was fresh out of college, wet behind the ears and hired to cover the police beat. That meant not only going to the police station every day to pick up reports and look at the dispatcher's log, but it also meant being sent out to crime scenes just as soon as we learned the 10-20 from the scanner in the newsroom.

Within 10 days of my joining the news staff, managing editor Roy Ockert Jr. sent me to a car wreck at Sulphur Rock. As I left the building, all we knew was that it was bad. I couldn't have imagined how bad.

I came back to the office from that accident that took the life of a 13-year-old girl, stunned and ready to hand in my reporter's notebook.

I found myself in Mr. P.'s office, crying. I ended up staying.

From then on, Mr. Powell was better than any shrink I could've paid good money for. That poor man listened to more lso meant being sent out to crime scenes just as soon as we learned the 10-20 from the scanner in the newsroom.

I came back to the office from that accident that took the life of a 13-year-old girl, stunned and ready to hand in my reporter's notebook.

I found myself in Mr. P.'s office, crying. I ended up staying.

From then on, Mr. Powell was better than any shrink I could've paid good money for. That poor man listened to more problems – everything from financial woes to two divorces to irate readers. Yet, he always remained upbeat.

Even through the tragic death of his own daughter, Mr. P. kept a handle on it all and still lived to help everyone around him. I never once heard him say anything negative about anyone. Whether I was in his office to gripe about a "mean" editor or an interview gone wrong, Mr. P. always just nodded and smiled knowingly.

He'd been through it all before and could always offer insight. Even though he'd sometimes point out what my enemy of the day might be thinking, he'd always be supportive of me.

Every once in awhile, problems – everything from financial woes to two divorces to irate readers. Yet, he always remained upbeat.

He'd been through it all before and could always offer insight. Even though he'd sometimes point out what my enemy of the day might be thinking, he'd always be supportive of me.

Every once in awhile, I'd go out to take pictures at an event and forget to jot down someone's name or get the proper spelling. That was when I'd slip into Mr. P.'s office, show him the print of the photo, and ask, "Who is this lady, and how do you spell her name?" Mr. P. would always know. He knew EVERYBODY.

Whenever I felt too rushed and didn't have time to gather background information for an upcoming article, Mr. P. would always have a file on it to share.

As time went by, I grew from the green reporter to a seasoned writer and eventually managing editor. Mr. P. was always there to encourage me and praise my work when no one else would. By that time, I', I'd go out to take pictures at an event and forget to jot down someone's name or get the proper spelling. That was when I'd slip into Mr. P.'s office, show him the print of the photo, and ask, "Who is this lady, and how do you spell her name?" Mr. P. would always know. He knew EVERYBODY.

Whenever I felt too rushed and didn't have time to gather background information for an upcoming article, Mr. P. would always have a file on it to share.

Even though I'm sure I was still under Mr. P.'s wing when I left the Guard, I was proud to be able to call him a colleague. I'd like to think some of his positive work ethic rubbed off on me, and maybe someday, we'll be talking newspapers together again.

Oct. 8, 2003

Poem Goes Down Memory Lane

A few weeks back in this space, I asked readers to send in their write-ups about their "good ol' days." I'd like to run your childhood memories in the Reminiscin' colum'd go into his office to chat about the "newbies" and what it used to be like in the "old days."

Oct. 8, 2003

Poem Goes Down Memory Lane

A few weeks back in this space, I asked readers to send in their write-ups about their "good ol' days." I'd like to run your childhood memories in the Reminiscin' column.

In response, I received in the mail the following poem, the author of which is unknown.

DOWN MEMORY LANE

A little house with two bedrooms and one car on the street,

A mower that you had to push to make the grass look neat.

In the kitchen on the wall, we had only one phone,

And no need for recording things, someone was always home.

We only had one TV set and channels maybe two,

But always there was one of them with something worth the view.

For snacks we had potato chips that tasted like a chip,

And if you wanted flavor there was Lawson's onion dimn.

In response, I received in the mail the following poem, the author of which is unknown.

DOWN MEMORY LANE

A little house with two bedrooms and one car on the street,

A mower that you had to push to make the grass look neat.

In the kitchen on the wall, we had only one phone,

And no need for recording things, someone was always home.

We only had one TV set and channels maybe two,

But always there was one of them with something worth the view.

For snacks we had potato chips that tasted like a chip,

And if you wanted flavor there was Lawson's onion dip.

Store bought snacks were rare because Mom liked to cook,

And nothing can compare to snacks in Betty Crocker's Cookbook.

Then there was the movies with your favorite movie star,

And nothing can compare to watching movies from your car.

The milkman and the bread man used to go from door to door,

And it was just a few cents more than going to the store.

The mailman knew each house by name and knew where it was sent,

There was not loads of mail addressed to "present occupant."

There was a time when just one glance was all that it would take,

And you would know the kind of caip.

Store bought snacks were rare because Mom liked to cook,

And nothing can compare to snacks in Betty Crocker's Cookbook.

Then there was the movies with your favorite movie star,

And nothing can compare to watching movies from your car.

The milkman and the bread man used to go from door to door,

And it was just a few cents more than going to the store.

The mailman knew each house by name and knew where it was sent,

There was not loads of mail addressed to "present occupant."

There was a time when just one glance was all that it would take,

And you would know the kind of car, the model and the make.

They didn't look like turtles trying to squeeze every mile,

They were streamlined, white walls, fins and really had some style.

Remember the music that you played whenever you would jive,

Was from a vinyl, big holes record called a forty-five.

The record player had a post to keep them all in line,

And then the records would drop down and play one at a time.

Oh the simple life we lived still seems like so much fun,

How can you explain a game, just Kick the Can and run.

And why would boys put baseball cards between bicycle spokes,

And for just a nickel, red mar, the model and the make.

They didn't look like turtles trying to squeeze every mile,

They were streamlined, white walls, fins and really had some style.

Remember the music that you played whenever you would jive,

Was from a vinyl, big holes record called a forty-five.

The record player had a post to keep them all in line,

And then the records would drop down and play one at a time.

Oh the simple life we lived still seems like so much fun,

How can you explain a game, just Kick the Can and run.

And why would boys put baseball cards between bicycle spokes,

And for just a nickel, red machines had little bottled Cokes.

This life seemed so much easier and slower in some ways,

I love the new technology but I sure miss those days.

So time moves on and so do we and nothing stays the same,

But I sure love to reminisce and walk down memory lane.

Author Unknown

I'm still hoping to get your original reminiscences. There are several ways you can get them to me. Please type them and include your name, address and phone number.

E-mail them to [email protected]; send them via the U.S. Postal service to Julie M. Fidler, c/o Arkansas Weekly, P.O. Box 2077, Batesville, AR 72501; or FAX them to 8machines had little bottled Cokes.

This life seemed so much easier and slower in some ways,

I love the new technology but I sure miss those days.

So time moves on and so do we and nothing stays the same,

But I sure love to reminisce and walk down memory lane.

Author Unknown

I'm still hoping to get your original reminiscences. There are several ways you can get them to me. Please type them and include your name, address and phone number.

E-mail them to [email protected]; send them via the U.S. Postal service to Julie M. Fidler, c/o Arkansas Weekly, P.O. Box 2077, Batesville, AR 72501; or FAX them to 870-612-3560 to my attention.

Oct. 1, 2003

'Grissom's' Just Regular Guy

Almost a year ago in this space, I wrote about a guy and a show stuck in my thoughts, and I hoped to jar them out by writing about them.

You know how, sometimes you study for a test, you have all this stuff crammed in your head, and then when you write it all down on your test paper, it's forever gone? That's kind of what I was hoping for.

But, alas, 11 months later, I still frequently have CSI: Crime Scene Investigation and its star, William Petersen, on the brain. OK, maybe I should get a life.

The odd thing i870-612-3560 to my attention.

Oct. 1, 2003

'Grissom's' Just Regular Guy

Almost a year ago in this space, I wrote about a guy and a show stuck in my thoughts, and I hoped to jar them out by writing about them.

But, alas, 11 months later, I still frequently have CSI: Crime Scene Investigation and its star, William Petersen, on the brain. OK, maybe I should get a life.

The odd thing is, I've been blessed over the years to somehow meet many of my favorite celebrities. A year ago last week, my Arkansas Weekly co-hort and I hung out backstage with Davy Jones and Micky Dolenz of the Monkees. Since then, I've visited with Jim Stafford and several of the Osmond brothers, including Donny.

When my sons and I left Batesville at the crack of dawn Sept. 17 to make a 10-hour drive south to New Orleans, La., I was not the only one who doubted I would actually get to speak one-on-one with Petersen, or Billy, as he prefers to be called.

My Weekly friends, Stacy and Karin, told me when I got back that they honestly didn't thinkis, I've been blessed over the years to somehow meet many of my favorite celebrities. A year ago last week, my Arkansas Weekly co-hort and I hung out backstage with Davy Jones and Micky Dolenz of the Monkees. Since then, I've visited with Jim Stafford and several of the Osmond brothers, including Donny.

My Weekly friends, Stacy and Karin, told me when I got back that they honestly didn't think I was going to meet him. The boys and I were surprised, though.

When I learned that Billy would be in New Orleans to receive special recognition from the American Society for Clinical Pathology, I decided to get in there as a journalist and report on the annual meeting. Heck, the closest I might otherwise ever come to being in the same room with the man would probably be at a Cubs game at Wrigley Field.

As it ended up, the ASCP folks were super nice and helped round up Billy for me while he was in New Orleans. The boys and I attended the awards ceremony and sat directly behind Billy and his wife, Gina. Before the ceremony began, we approached him, Nk I was going to meet him. The boys and I were surprised, though.

As it ended up, the ASCP folks were super nice and helped round up Billy for me while he was in New Orleans. The boys and I attended the awards ceremony and sat directly behind Billy and his wife, Gina. Before the ceremony began, we approached him, Nick (age 10) wearing one of his Cubs jersies. (I knew that would get Billy's attention.)

He stopped talking to the people he was chatting with and said, "Hey pal! You a Cubs fan?" Petersen and the Fidlers

That was all she wrote. Billy and Nick were quick buddies. We were able to visit with him several times over the next couple days, and he remembered Nick's name each time. Nick even brought Billy a little puzzle with the Cubs insignia on it. You know those little plastic puzzles cut into tiles, and you have to slide the tiles around to get the picture Nick (age 10) wearing one of his Cubs jersies. (I knew that would get Billy's attention.)

He stopped talking to the people he was chatting with and said, "Hey pal! You a Cubs fan?" Petersen and the Fidlers

On the second day, as Billy approached us, he said, "Hey Nick! How's it goin? I've been working on that puzzle, but haven't gotten it finished yet."

Even though Billy was trying to enjoy a few days off from his 80-hour a week shooting schedule, he was patient and nice enough to sit down and let me interview him for this newspaper. He was a regular guy, down to earth, and reminded me of my brothers, uncles, dad and cousins, all Illinois natives just like Billy.

After the interview, Nick began to tell him about all of his "lab equipment," including a fingerprint kit and a fake human hand, which he keeps back to normal?

On the second day, as Billy approached us, he said, "Hey Nick! How's it goin? I've been working on that puzzle, but haven't gotten it finished yet."

After the interview, Nick began to tell him about all of his "lab equipment," including a fingerprint kit and a fake human hand, which he keeps in a jar of water on a shelf in his bedroom. He also showed Billy his sunglasses and let him know he picked them out because, "They're just like the ones Grissom wears on the first season of CSI."

When Nick said that, Billy smiled, touched the sunglasses atop his own head and said, "Oh, you like those ones, do ya, buddy?"

During the interview, Billy talked about children watching CSI and the fact that the littler ones probably shouldn't unless their parents think the kids can handle it.

When I pointed to Nick and said, "He's only 10," Billy said, "Yeah, but he gets away with it 'cause he's s in a jar of water on a shelf in his bedroom. He also showed Billy his sunglasses and let him know he picked them out because, "They're just like the ones Grissom wears on the first season of CSI."

When Nick said that, Billy smiled, touched the sunglasses atop his own head and said, "Oh, you like those ones, do ya, buddy?"

During the interview, Billy talked about children watching CSI and the fact that the littler ones probably shouldn't unless their parents think the kids can handle it.

When I pointed to Nick and said, "He's only 10," Billy said, "Yeah, but he gets away with it 'cause he's a Cubs fan!"

As we were leaving, Billy told Nick, "Hey, if you're ever in California, I'll show you around the lab and the set!"

Gee, I hope Nick takes me with him.

Sept. 17, 2003

Picture Your 'Good 'Ol Days' in This Space

Bedtime stories are not just for wee ones. I still share reading out loud with my sons almost every night.

Currently, we're reading a chapter per night in Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. The boys are 14 and 10 years old. I got this tradition from my parents, with whom I shared bedtime stories until, oh, about the time I left for college. a Cubs fan!"

As we were leaving, Billy told Nick, "Hey, if you're ever in California, I'll show you around the lab and the set!"

Gee, I hope Nick takes me with him.

Sept. 17, 2003

Picture Your 'Good 'Ol Days' in This Space

Bedtime stories are not just for wee ones. I still share reading out loud with my sons almost every night.

With my Mom and Dad, we often read Beverly Cleary books like Ramona the Pest and Henry and the Paper Route or even comic books like Dennis the Menace. I still love children's books, and some day, I'm gonna write that best-seller for ages 9-13.

But, many of my favorite bedtime stories I shared with my parents were from the pages of Good Old Days magazine. For those unfamiliar with Good Old Days, you can still pick up a copy at the store. There's usually a Norman Rockwell-like bit of art on the cover.

The articles inside are mostly written by readers, and they're all true stories about things that happ.

The articles inside are mostly written by readers, and they're all true stories about things that happened between 1900-1955, often with accompanying photographs. The articles are the reminiscences of the readers as they remember how things happened, often recollected through their eyes as children.

Regular departments in each issue include transportation, Good Old Days in the Kitchen and home remedies. I learned a lot of American history and about pop culture when I was growing up through these writers' first-hand accounts.

In fact, my column is, in a way, based on what I remember from those Good Old Days articles. Well, that and all the Erma Bombeck I read in the '70s.

Some folks have recognized me in local stores or at publipened between 1900-1955, often with accompanying photographs. The articles are the reminiscences of the readers as they remember how things happened, often recollected through their eyes as children.

In fact, my column is, in a way, based on what I remember from those Good Old Days articles. Well, that and all the Erma Bombeck I read in the '70s.

Some folks have recognized me in local stores or at public gatherings from my picture in this silly column. So far, everyone's been polite enough not to approach me and say, "You stink." And, quite a few have told me they enjoy the columns because they are about the same age and can identify with the kind of reminiscin' I'm doing.

Others have come up to me on weeks I have not had a column in the Weekly and said they missed it. Truth is, sometimes my column's not here when there isn't space because our sales staff has sold so many wonderful ads. Other times, I've been out of town, and more than once, the reason my column has not appeared is because I've plumb run out of stuff to write.

Then, the next week, I'll see something on TV or talk to someone who will jog my memory of something that happened when I was younger, and *poof!* there will be a column the next week.

Well, here's where you come in. I've heard all of my stories; now I'd like to hear yours. If you have some pleasant memories of your "good old days," why not send them in for those times I'm suffering from writer's block?

Just write it up in a first-person, conversational way; keep it to about 500 words or less; and send it on. Please type it, though, so I'll be sure to be able to read it.

You can FAX it to 870-612-856p>

Then, the next week, I'll see something on TV or talk to someone who will jog my memory of something that happened when I was younger, and *poof!* there will be a column the next week.

Just write it up in a first-person, conversational way; keep it to about 500 words or less; and send it on. Please type it, though, so I'll be sure to be able to read it.

You can FAX it to 870-612-8560; e-mail it to [email protected] in Microsoft Word or a text format; bring it to the WRD Entertainment offices at 920 Harrison St., Suite C, and hand it to me between 9 a.m. and 5 p.m. Monday through Friday; mail it via the U.S. Postal Service to Julie Fidler, c/o Arkansas Weekly, P.O. Box 2077, Batesville, AR 72503; or send it by owl to my window sill.

Please include your full name, address and phone number when you send your reminiscings. I'll accept them through the end of the year and run them in this space when I'm at a loss for words.

OK, happy remembering, and I'll sit back now and wait for y'all to do the writing for me. Then I'll read60; e-mail it to [email protected] in Microsoft Word or a text format; bring it to the WRD Entertainment offices at 920 Harrison St., Suite C, and hand it to me between 9 a.m. and 5 p.m. Monday through Friday; mail it via the U.S. Postal Service to Julie Fidler, c/o Arkansas Weekly, P.O. Box 2077, Batesville, AR 72503; or send it by owl to my window sill.

Please include your full name, address and phone number when you send your reminiscings. I'll accept them through the end of the year and run them in this space when I'm at a loss for words.

OK, happy remembering, and I'll sit back now and wait for y'all to do the writing for me. Then I'll read it for our bedtime story.

Sept. 10, 2003

Thinking Back on All the Crap We Learned

When I think back on all the crap I learned in high school, it's a wonder I can think at all ...

Paul Simon, "Kodachrome," 1973

That catchy tune has been going through my head ever since I went to my freshman son's open house the other night.

Now, I'm not saying he's learning crap. Au contraire! He's learning very useful things at Batesville Junior High School.

The school's open house was quite cool and wasn't what I was expecting. I was prepared fod it for our bedtime story.

Sept. 10, 2003

Thinking Back on All the Crap We Learned

When I think back on all the crap I learned in high school, it's a wonder I can think at all ...

Paul Simon, "Kodachrome," 1973

That catchy tune has been going through my head ever since I went to my freshman son's open house the other night.

Now, I'm not saying he's learning crap. Au contraire! He's learning very useful things at Batesville Junior High School.

The school's open house was quite cool and wasn't what I was expecting. I was prepared for the usual: go to the school, hear comments from the principal and perhaps superintendent, walk around the classrooms, meet the teachers, have a cookie and some punch and go home in time for CSI.

Instead, parents had their children's class schedules in hand and were to find the classes, in order, sit at the desks and listen to each teacher for about 10 minutes before a bell rang, sending us on to find the next class within three minutes. And, by the way, let's get new desks for Mr. Cox's computer classes if that millage passes. I would've needed to go on the Hollywood Miracle Diet to fit comfortably into that armchair desk.

In at least thor the usual: go to the school, hear comments from the principal and perhaps superintendent, walk around the classrooms, meet the teachers, have a cookie and some punch and go home in time for CSI.

In at least three or four of Vincent's classes, the teachers told us our children were there because they were selected for the course. Those advanced classes are the ones that are really going to get to do some fun stuff. For example, in advanced computers, they'll be building a computer out of parts.

The coolest classes in my high school career were mass media, journalism, oral interpretation, art and current events. French, Spanish and German were also offered, but I was too ignorant to have realized the importance of taking a foreign language. The rest of the courses steered you in a couple of different directions. Boys were expected to take "indhree or four of Vincent's classes, the teachers told us our children were there because they were selected for the course. Those advanced classes are the ones that are really going to get to do some fun stuff. For example, in advanced computers, they'll be building a computer out of parts.

The last thing I wanted to be was a secretary or a homemaker. NOT that there's anything at all wrong with either of those occupations. It's just that neither one of those was up my alley. Because I wanted to be the next Jessica Savitch, I couldn't see any reason for me to learn how to cook, sew and take care of slobbering infants or how to transcribe a tape my boss had made while I wore a skirt and business blouse and spent my day in a stuffy office behind a typewriter.

Well, the business classes won out over the child care, cooking and sewing stuff, and I fdustrial arts" classes, and girls had two choices: home economics or secretarial.

Well, the business classes won out over the child care, cooking and sewing stuff, and I found myself behind a Royal 440 manual typewriter. Funny thing is, I ended up loving it. I was extremely excited during my second year of typing when we got to move up to the IBM Selectric electric typewriters.

We used onion skin paper and typing erasers you could sharpen in a pencil sharpener. They had a brush on one end for brushing away the eraser crumbs.

Our typing teacher was an elderly lady who often fell asleep during 5-minute timings. The buzzer that went off at the end of the timings would jar her awake, and she'd say, "Stop typing." She often came in with a spot of pink or blue in her otherwise snow white hair. I'm not sfound myself behind a Royal 440 manual typewriter. Funny thing is, I ended up loving it. I was extremely excited during my second year of typing when we got to move up to the IBM Selectric electric typewriters.

We used onion skin paper and typing erasers you could sharpen in a pencil sharpener. They had a brush on one end for brushing away the eraser crumbs.

I got quite proficient at typing, which is now called either keyboarding or computers in my sons' schools. In fact, I irritate the heck out of people in the office these days because I type hundreds of words a minute. I can type as fast as I can think, and I have my high school typing teacher to thank for that.

Another class I never pictured myself in and actually liking was Gregg Shorthand. I guess they've stopped teaching it. I also grew skilled at shorthand and got all A's in all three years I was in the class (as opposed to my D in Algebra I).

I wish I could still remember the shorthand like the typing. Now, sure what was up with that.

I wish I could still remember the shorthand like the typing. Now, all I can remember is how to write "Dear Sir," and "Sincerely yours."

One home ec-type course was required, and I signed up for "Independent Living." Just the year before I began high school, the course was added to the home economics lineup which still included "Married Life."

There were several boys in my class, and they were fun to watch. We learned how to do laundry, cook entire chickens and sew an apron. One kid drew a huge marijuana leaf on his apron bib with a green magic marker. He was the same kid in my art class who would draw a marijuana leaf on his sketch pad no matter what kind of still life th all I can remember is how to write "Dear Sir," and "Sincerely yours."

Anyhoo, before I get carried away and ramble on more about my high school days, thanks are in order to the Batesville School District and all our fine schools in northcentral Arkansas for teaching our children stuff they can really use in life.

September 3, 2003

Crayons Become Magic Wands for Writer

090303 mario ET.jpg (36184 bytes) To my brother, Mike, and me, Crayolas were like magic wands for transforming Charlie Brown into an extraterrestrial or Lucy Van Pelt inthe teacher put on the table in front of us.

September 3, 2003

Crayons Become Magic Wands for Writer

090303 mario ET.jpg (36184 bytes) To my brother, Mike, and me, Crayolas were like magic wands for transforming Charlie Brown into an extraterrestrial or Lucy Van Pelt into the bass player from a top 40 band.

I don't remember exactly how it started, but when we were around 7 (me) and 11 (Mike), we started coloring a bit unconventionally in our coloring books. I remember Mike making Elmer Fudd into a snappy dresser, using bright pink, orange and green crayons to color his clothes. 090303 boy george.jpg (12648 bytes)

From there, it became a theme to color everyone's clothes pink, with an orange outline and green polka dots. Each cartoon character or superhero became a chain smoker with an afro, at least one earring and sunglasseto the bass player from a top 40 band.

Somehow, in the process, we discovered a pencil eraser could be used gently to remove lines of ink in the coloring books. From there, we began to erase parts of the characters and draw in new parts with a black ballpoint pen.

We were eventually (by the time we were too old to be considered coloring book age) turning the Peanuts characters into punk rockers, aliens other famous people and cartoons of the day. Charlie Brown became Boy George, Lucy was Mario Cippolina, the bass player from Huey Lewis and the News, complete with receding hairline, and Snoopy miraculously es. Mom even got into the act and put Batman in a pink tutu and ballet slippers.

090303 ETmistletoe.jpg (38030 bytes) E.T. was a big favorite for me in the early '80s. I think I turned every single Peanuts character, at one time or another, into E.T. Our coloring book art reflected the times.

Just a few weeks ago, I went to Illinois to visit my brothers. While at Mike's, we watched the second Harry Potter movie on DVD. I sat happily on the floor, big box of Crayolas nearby and my Peanuts 50th anniversary coloring book on the footstool in front of me.

The picture I was working on was Charlie Brown kicking a socc became Garfield.

The picture I was working on was Charlie Brown kicking a soccer ball. Now, it is Dobby, the house elf, kicking a soccer ball. I kept most of the roundness of Chuck's head and even his little curl of hair on the forehead. I was going to make his arms skinny like Dobby's, but I figured it'd be much funnier to leave them pudgy like Chuck's.

So, there you have it, and in this column are some examples of our artwork. I hope I've inspired at least one of you to get out your eraser and crayons and have fun transforming the pictures in your coloring book.

Aug. 20, 2003

Growing From Freaky Teen to Freaky Mom

While watching Freaky Friday, a remake of acer ball. Now, it is Dobby, the house elf, kicking a soccer ball. I kept most of the roundness of Chuck's head and even his little curl of hair on the forehead. I was going to make his arms skinny like Dobby's, but I figured it'd be much funnier to leave them pudgy like Chuck's.

Aug. 20, 2003

Growing From Freaky Teen to Freaky Mom

While watching Freaky Friday, a remake of a movie about a mom finding herself in her teenage daughter's body and vice versa, I discovered something pretty freaky going on within myself.

The first movie, released late in 1976 or early '77, starred Jodie Foster as the daughter, Annabel, and Barbara Harris, as the mother. Both are Disney movies. In both movies, the mom and daughter (played by Lindsey Lohan in the new one) are going on about how easy the other one has it and how hectic and difficult their own lives are.

In the original, which I haven't seen for over 20 years, the two utter something at the same time on Friday the 13th, and voila!, they're inside each others' bodies. The remaka movie about a mom finding herself in her teenage daughter's body and vice versa, I discovered something pretty freaky going on within myself.

In the original, which I haven't seen for over 20 years, the two utter something at the same time on Friday the 13th, and voila!, they're inside each others' bodies. The remake offers a reason for the switch I suppose might be considered more sophisticated. At any rate, the result is a teenager acting like a woman in her 40s and vice versa. Hilarity ensues.

I saw the Jodie Foster version on Feb. 27, 1977, just a few days before my 14th birthday. Jodie is four months older than me, and her character in the first Freaky Friday was the same age as both of us. Thusly, I could really identify with Annabel and her teen angst. She said stuff like "far out" and called her brother Ape Face. She was a water skiing, field hockey-playing tomboy. The mom, a homemaker, I could not dig.

Last weekend, sittingke offers a reason for the switch I suppose might be considered more sophisticated. At any rate, the result is a teenager acting like a woman in her 40s and vice versa. Hilarity ensues.

Last weekend, sitting at our local cinema, guess with whom I identified? You're right – the mom, played by Jamie Lee Curtis. She's now 44. While someone about the right age to be my daughter would have drooled over Anna's crush, Jake (played by a cutie named Chad Murray), I was delighted to see her widowed mother engaged to Mark Harmon!

There was some talk about Jodie playing the mom in the new Freag at our local cinema, guess with whom I identified? You're right – the mom, played by Jamie Lee Curtis. She's now 44. While someone about the right age to be my daughter would have drooled over Anna's crush, Jake (played by a cutie named Chad Murray), I was delighted to see her widowed mother engaged to Mark Harmon!

Not many of you will remember this show, I bet. I had it bad for Mark Harmon when he played Deputy Dwayne Thibideaux in 240-Robert, a show that lasted 16 episodes in 1979-80. It was created by Rick Rosner who also created one of my all-time faves, CHiPs.

There was some talk about Jodie playing the mom in the new Freaky Friday and Tom Selleck playing her fianc�. Although I think Jodie Foster rocks, and they definitely don't make 'em like Magnum P.I. any more, I like the Jamie Lee/Mark Harmon combination a whole lot.

Watching the Saturday afternoon matinee 26 years after seeing the original really took me back. Jamie Lee was excellent as the teen trapped inside her mother's body. Her body language, expressions, rolling eyes and slang really helps a 40-year-old woman remember what it's like to be a 15-year-old girl.

It should be noted, but hardly worth mentioning, a TV version of the movie was broadcast in 1995. It starred Shelley Laky Friday and Tom Selleck playing her fianc�. Although I think Jodie Foster rocks, and they definitely don't make 'em like Magnum P.I. any more, I like the Jamie Lee/Mark Harmon combination a whole lot.

Watching the Saturday afternoon matinee 26 years after seeing the original really took me back. Jamie Lee was excellent as the teen trapped inside her mother's body. Her body language, expressions, rolling eyes and slang really helps a 40-year-old woman remember what it's like to be a 15-year-old girl.

It should be noted, but hardly worth mentioning, a TV version of the movie was broadcast in 1995. It starred Shelley Long as the mom and Gaby Hoffmann as Annabel. It was quite forgettable.

The 2003 remake of Freaky Friday could have been a disturbing reminder of just how old I am, but instead, it showed how cool an old lady my age can be and reminded me what it's like to be a teen.

***

Speaking of growing older, my mom had a birthday a week ago today (Aug. 13). My dad, being the sweetheart he is, snuck out and bought her a half sheet cake at a nearby store. We sat down at the table, and Mom carved us each up a piece. Dad scarfed down his large portion, and I had eaten a small one just as the birthday girl Long as the mom and Gaby Hoffmann as Annabel. It was quite forgettable.

The 2003 remake of Freaky Friday could have been a disturbing reminder of just how old I am, but instead, it showed how cool an old lady my age can be and reminded me what it's like to be a teen.

***

Speaking of growing older, my mom had a birthday a week ago today (Aug. 13). My dad, being the sweetheart he is, snuck out and bought her a half sheet cake at a nearby store. We sat down at the table, and Mom carved us each up a piece. Dad scarfed down his large portion, and I had eaten a small one just as the birthday girl finished plopping her first piece onto her paper plate.

I was sitting across from her and noticed a greenish blue spot on the bottom of her piece. I pointed it out before she took a bite, and at first, we thought it was food coloring. But, it was a white cake with white icing and not much color to it. When Mom turned her piece of cake upside down, that's when we saw the spots. There were splotches of mold all over the bottom of that cake. We inspected a couple of other pieces, and sure enough, it looked like blue cheese cake.

Upon looking at the label on the cake box, we learned the confection had been made two weeks earlier, and the "sell b finished plopping her first piece onto her paper plate.

Upon looking at the label on the cake box, we learned the confection had been made two weeks earlier, and the "sell by" date was the day we were eating it. So, it had been on the shelf for 14 days. Heck, I wouldn't eat a cake I'd made myself that had been around the house that long!

So, let this be a warning for you. Before you buy a ready-made cake, check that label.

Aug. 6, 2003

Six Grown Women and an Aging Teen Idol

Rick Springfield July 25, 2003 What do you get when you take six women ranging in age from their mid-20s to early 40s, pile them into a minivan and sic 'em on a 54-year-old "teen idol"? A wild time in the oby" date was the day we were eating it. So, it had been on the shelf for 14 days. Heck, I wouldn't eat a cake I'd made myself that had been around the house that long!

So, let this be a warning for you. Before you buy a ready-made cake, check that label.

Aug. 6, 2003

Six Grown Women and an Aging Teen Idol

For a third of us (OK, that's just two women), it was our first time in Tunica, Miss., or Robinsville or wherever the heck we were. Although the place is known for its slot machines, crap tables and huge buffets, it was Rick Springfield who drew four of us to the Mississippi River destination. I couldn't possibly care less about popping coins into machines, the money never to be seen again. But, now, the chance to see a popular '70s and '80s icon in the flesh, that's a different story.

All of us being very budget conscious, we made arrangements early on to split the cost of one room, and the younger among us would haveol' casino town tonight.

All of us being very budget conscious, we made arrangements early on to split the cost of one room, and the younger among us would have to sleep on the floor. I was the driver because I have a vehicle in which six women will fit.

In the weeks building up to our trip, we received much advice from those who frequent the casinos. We heard quite a few theories on how to win big, how to keep the free drinks coming and where and what to eat or not eat.

Up until a couple hours before we left, I was unsure I'd have enough cash to help pay for the hotel room, let alone put money into slot machines or nourishment. Luckily, a quick trip home at lunch yielded a check in the mail and allowed me to pitch in for gas and partake in the biggest buffet spread I've ever seen.

The momente to sleep on the floor. I was the driver because I have a vehicle in which six women will fit.

The moment we left town, the talk in the van turned to men, of course. I'm not at liberty to give details here, but suffice it to say, if we were on TV, we'd be on one of those cable channels you have to pay extra to get. The munchies and cold sodie pops flowed freely along the 3-hour drive, and talk of the opposite sex never ceased.

Upon our arrival, we met Joey, who was behind the counter and checked us in. Six different key cards for the room and six separate payments of $24 and some odd cents later, we were on our way up to the 24th floor to stow our stuff.

There wasn't much time to spare until the concert, so we grabbed a quick bite to eat in the foodt we left town, the talk in the van turned to men, of course. I'm not at liberty to give details here, but suffice it to say, if we were on TV, we'd be on one of those cable channels you have to pay extra to get. The munchies and cold sodie pops flowed freely along the 3-hour drive, and talk of the opposite sex never ceased.

There wasn't much time to spare until the concert, so we grabbed a quick bite to eat in the food court, and I decided to see what a gal had to do to get a beer around that joint. According to one in our group, if I'd have sat down and started plunking coins into one of the machines, one of those scantily clad women would've come along and asked me what I'd like to drink. Nope, I didn't have time for that and didn't want to waste any of my money with the possibility of no return.

One of my girlfriends (also new to Tunica) and I located a bar within the casino. I got the bartender's attention and asked for a beer. He fetched it for me and stood there. I asked him the cost, and he replied, "However much you want, hun." Heck, I had no idea wd court, and I decided to see what a gal had to do to get a beer around that joint. According to one in our group, if I'd have sat down and started plunking coins into one of the machines, one of those scantily clad women would've come along and asked me what I'd like to drink. Nope, I didn't have time for that and didn't want to waste any of my money with the possibility of no return.

One of my girlfriends (also new to Tunica) and I located a bar within the casino. I got the bartender's attention and asked for a beer. He fetched it for me and stood there. I asked him the cost, and he replied, "However much you want, hun." Heck, I had no idea what to give him. Let's see, I could get a 6-pack of the same stuff in Newport for under three bucks. Three divided by six is about 50 cents. No, I didn't give him 50 cents, although I was tempted. I gave him a couple bucks.

Those of us who had tickets to see Rick Springfield headed to the showroom. When we got in there, we saw many women with cameras. We had left ours back in our room, figuring they wouldn't be allowed at the concert. Two of us made a mad dash to the room and back to get the cameras, and I tell you, I am sure glad we did.

Rick in 1972 The concert was what to give him. Let's see, I could get a 6-pack of the same stuff in Newport for under three bucks. Three divided by six is about 50 cents. No, I didn't give him 50 cents, although I was tempted. I gave him a couple bucks.

Rick in 1972 The concert was truly amazing. I became interested in Rick Springfield in 1973 when I bought my first Tiger Beat magazine. That was when the Aussie still had his accent and crooned pop tunes that smacked of Herman's Hermits. In those days, he had a Saturday morning cartoon show, and his face was all over the teen idol magazines.

Rick seemed to disappear for a bit until he resurfaced in the early 1980s as Dr. Noah Drake on the soap opera, General Hospital. I never watched that, but I did collect the Tiger Beat pinups and bought the records that followed in the later '80s.

Rick did not disappoint in Tunica. The crowd, of which our minivan crew was a microcosm, w truly amazing. I became interested in Rick Springfield in 1973 when I bought my first Tiger Beat magazine. That was when the Aussie still had his accent and crooned pop tunes that smacked of Herman's Hermits. In those days, he had a Saturday morning cartoon show, and his face was all over the teen idol magazines.

Rick did not disappoint in Tunica. The crowd, of which our minivan crew was a microcosm, was on its collective feet during the entire show. Rick never took a break for an intermission and never left the stage – that is, until he came out into the audience to walk among us mere mortals.

Rick didn't just walk into a segment of the audience for a few moments. He strapped a microphone to his head, brought his guitar and sang some of his most famous hits, like "Human Touch," while he made his way around the entire auditorium, walking atop the seats and arms of the chairs. He started out down front, stage right, and we figured he'd never get anywhere near us.

But, before we knew it, Rick was on the chairs in front of us, and was on its collective feet during the entire show. Rick never took a break for an intermission and never left the stage – that is, until he came out into the audience to walk among us mere mortals.

But, before we knew it, Rick was on the chairs in front of us, and it was every woman for herself. I was snapping pictures left and right when I noticed one of my faithful friends had latched onto his leg and was stroking it. What had we become?

Then, a very hot and sweaty Rick was making a path right for my beer-finding buddy and me. As he approached, we saw him get a bit unstable, and the two of us reached our hands upward to offer help. Rick grabbed my right hand in his right and my friend's right hand in his left and squeezed, steadying himself.

He moved on, and my friend and I looked at each other, our hands suspended in midair, Rick's sweat just pouring down the inside of our forearms and leaving our palms it was every woman for herself. I was snapping pictures left and right when I noticed one of my faithful friends had latched onto his leg and was stroking it. What had we become?

He moved on, and my friend and I looked at each other, our hands suspended in midair, Rick's sweat just pouring down the inside of our forearms and leaving our palms dripping. We squealed; I admit it.

The rest of the night didn't really matter after that moment. We left the concert, I put a dollar and a half worth of quarters into a couple of different slot machines, and we ate more than any human should ever be allowed.

We all returned to the room about 2 in the morning and drifted off to sleep, visions of Dr. Drake dancing in our heads.

July 23, 2003

Fifth Grade May Bring Crushes on Teachers

My youngest son will enter fifth grade next month. This can't be possible.

His big brother will be what I would technically call a higs dripping. We squealed; I admit it.

We all returned to the room about 2 in the morning and drifted off to sleep, visions of Dr. Drake dancing in our heads.

July 23, 2003

Fifth Grade May Bring Crushes on Teachers

My youngest son will enter fifth grade next month. This can't be possible.

His big brother will be what I would technically call a high school freshman. At my high school in central Illinois, grades nine through 12 were freshman, sophomore, junior and senior years. Here, he'll be called a ninth-grader – but in the eyes of the mom, he's still a freshman.

As if this is not troubling enough, now his younger brother will join the ranks of the prepubescent middle school boys. What's a mother to do?

I can't help but remember what I was like in fifth grade. (I'm not even going to THINK about what I was like as a high school freshman!)

In fifth grade, I was assigned to a class with my first male teacher, Mr. Bird. Every Monday night, when I see Brad Garrett playigh school freshman. At my high school in central Illinois, grades nine through 12 were freshman, sophomore, junior and senior years. Here, he'll be called a ninth-grader – but in the eyes of the mom, he's still a freshman.

As if this is not troubling enough, now his younger brother will join the ranks of the prepubescent middle school boys. What's a mother to do?

I can't help but remember what I was like in fifth grade. (I'm not even going to THINK about what I was like as a high school freshman!)

In fifth grade, I was assigned to a class with my first male teacher, Mr. Bird. Every Monday night, when I see Brad Garrett playing Robert on CBS's Everybody Loves Raymond, I think of Mr. Bird. He was a tall fellow with a good sense of humor. Despite his great stature, he was not really intimidating.

I do remember one time when he was a little frightening, but I brought that on myself. I don't remember exactly what I did, but I'm sure it had something to do with being a smart aleck. That's hard to believe when you note how I've turned out as an adult. Ahem ...

Mr. Bird made my accomplice, Jenny, and me stay inside the classroom for a week of lunch recesses. Jenny opened a classroom window and slithered out to freedom, but I was too frightened and stuck aring Robert on CBS's Everybody Loves Raymond, I think of Mr. Bird. He was a tall fellow with a good sense of humor. Despite his great stature, he was not really intimidating.

Mr. Bird made my accomplice, Jenny, and me stay inside the classroom for a week of lunch recesses. Jenny opened a classroom window and slithered out to freedom, but I was too frightened and stuck around to stick it out. We ended up playing blackboard eraser hockey on the window sash, with Jenny outside and me inside, sitting on the top of a bookshelf.

It was when I was in Mr. Bird's fifth grade that the only boy who was nice to me, Timothy Gotch, died in a house fire. I remember Tim as a cute boy who was always smiling and friendly. Not long after his death, a Little League field in Rome, Ill., where he used to play on a team, was named after him – Gotch Field.

Looking back on fifth grade and beyond, I have come to the conclusion that the school board hires young, pleasant male teachers as a challenge for girl students. It's awful round to stick it out. We ended up playing blackboard eraser hockey on the window sash, with Jenny outside and me inside, sitting on the top of a bookshelf.

Looking back on fifth grade and beyond, I have come to the conclusion that the school board hires young, pleasant male teachers as a challenge for girl students. It's awful hard to keep those grades up when you're trying to see through the stars in your eyes. (Think Marcia Brady, seeing Davy Jones.)

I didn't really have a crush on Mr. Bird (he reminded me too much of my dad), but now, the band teacher was another story. I've learned that the cutie pie band teacher is now business manager of the entire school district. I believe my fifth-grade year, the first year a student could join band, was Mr. Kelley's first year in teaching.

I blame him for me stinking at saxophone. How's a girl supposed to keep her mind on reading the music when a dreamy band teacher is sitting next to her? Heck, the only time I blew on the da hard to keep those grades up when you're trying to see through the stars in your eyes. (Think Marcia Brady, seeing Davy Jones.)

I blame him for me stinking at saxophone. How's a girl supposed to keep her mind on reading the music when a dreamy band teacher is sitting next to her? Heck, the only time I blew on the dang thing was during those lessons. If there's such a thing as lip syncing on a woodwind, I did it during band ensemble class.

Things got even more complicated in sixth grade with Mr. Tilly as my teacher. He must've been in his late 20s or early 30s and reminded me of Mr. Kotter with straight hair. Funny and charming. He's still there (at least he was this past school year), teaching sixth-graders.

My crush on Mr. Tilly blew up in my face in an embarrassing moment during a school dance. I don't even know why I went to the thing. It was held in Mr. Kelley's domain – the band room. I spent the first part of the evening drinking punch, eating coang thing was during those lessons. If there's such a thing as lip syncing on a woodwind, I did it during band ensemble class.

My crush on Mr. Tilly blew up in my face in an embarrassing moment during a school dance. I don't even know why I went to the thing. It was held in Mr. Kelley's domain – the band room. I spent the first part of the evening drinking punch, eating cookies and avoiding direct eye contact with all the boys in the room.

At one point, I noticed Mr. Tilly dancing with one of my classmates. Teachers dance? Lucky girl.

As I was standing there, punch in hand, staring at the two in dumbstruck awe, the song ended without me noticing. Then, Mr. Tilly approached me. I couldn't move. He reached out his hand toward me, and I saw his lips moving. He was saying, in what seemed to be slow motion, "Julie, would you like to dance?"

I couldn't reply. Instead, I crushed my Dixie cup, felt my face grow hot as all the blood rushed northward, and ran out of the band room. I spent thookies and avoiding direct eye contact with all the boys in the room.

At one point, I noticed Mr. Tilly dancing with one of my classmates. Teachers dance? Lucky girl.

I couldn't reply. Instead, I crushed my Dixie cup, felt my face grow hot as all the blood rushed northward, and ran out of the band room. I spent the rest of the evening, until my mom came to pick me up, hiding in our classroom, saying, "Stupid. Stupid. Stupid," over and over again in my head.

Mr. Tilly remained friendly and never mentioned the dance.

Gosh, my youngest son has enough trouble trying to concentrate on his schoolwork as it is. I just hope all of his female middle school teachers turn out to be unattractive bores.

Editor's note: The names of all the teachers in this column have been changed to protect them from embarrassment when I expose them to an international audience by uploading this puppy to the Internet at www.arkansasweekly.com. :)

Mr. Tilly remained friendly and never mentioned the dance.

Gosh, my youngest son has enough trouble trying to concentrate on his schoolwork as it is. I just hope all of his female middle school teachers turn out to be unattractive bores.

July 16, 2003

Family Trips to Branson Come Full Circle

The guy on the stage asked, "How many of you here have been to Branson before?"

Mom, Dad and I looked at each other, smiled, and raised our hands high.

Together, we tried to remember just how many times we've been there. We couldn't.

Branson is one of those places that people either love or they hate. OK, I'll admit it – I LOVE it. Over the Fourth of July weekend, things really came full circle for my family.

Our earliest trip to the Missouri town deep in Ozarks country must have been in 1971 or so. Dahr width="80%">

July 16, 2003

Family Trips to Branson Come Full Circle

The guy on the stage asked, "How many of you here have been to Branson before?"

Mom, Dad and I looked at each other, smiled, and raised our hands high.

Together, we tried to remember just how many times we've been there. We couldn't.

Branson is one of those places that people either love or they hate. OK, I'll admit it – I LOVE it. Over the Fourth of July weekend, things really came full circle for my family.

Our earliest trip to the Missouri town deep in Ozarks country must have been in 1971 or so. Dad found out about Silver Dollar City through Caterpillar Tractor Co., where he worked as a design engineer, in Mossville, Ill. They offered a special rate to employees.

It was love at first sight. The trip from central Illinois was quite long, about a 10-hour drive, so Mom and Dad split it up with stops to Six Flags Over Mid-America on some trips and always with an overnight stay at the Meramac Caverns campground at Stanton, Mo. I was thrilled to death back then to learn one of my favorite movies of all time was filmed deep within the cave – Reader's Digest's 1973 musical version of Tom Sawyer. It was mighty cool to think I may have walked the sad found out about Silver Dollar City through Caterpillar Tractor Co., where he worked as a design engineer, in Mossville, Ill. They offered a special rate to employees.

It was love at first sight. The trip from central Illinois was quite long, about a 10-hour drive, so Mom and Dad split it up with stops to Six Flags Over Mid-America on some trips and always with an overnight stay at the Meramac Caverns campground at Stanton, Mo. I was thrilled to death back then to learn one of my favorite movies of all time was filmed deep within the cave – Reader's Digest's 1973 musical version of Tom Sawyer. It was mighty cool to think I may have walked the same ground and viewed the same stalactites as Johnnie Whitaker of Family Affair and Jodie Foster, whom I've admired since she made a guest appearance on the same show.

My brothers and I dug the fact that we could buy "ill-eagle" fireworks (as I wrote in my 1972 diary) in Missouri, and my parents enjoyed visiting with other grownups at the campground. I remember one guy in particular who got talking to my dad and complaining that the only kind of beer he could find in Missouri was "that darn three-point-two stuff."

After a night at Jesse James' hideout (Meramac Caverns), we'd pack up the camping equipment and head onsame ground and viewed the same stalactites as Johnnie Whitaker of Family Affair and Jodie Foster, whom I've admired since she made a guest appearance on the same show.

After a night at Jesse James' hideout (Meramac Caverns), we'd pack up the camping equipment and head on to Branson.

Early on, when we first started going, the strip was not much more than the Presleys' theater and the Baldknobbers show, along with some shops selling pottery, rocks, candy and post-cards. One time, when we stopped to look at some of the pottery, the proprietor asked my oldest brother, Bob, if he'd be interested in moving to Branson to work at the shop. Mom wouldn't have it.

Our usual destination was what was then Indian Point Campground, just a short ways past Silver Dollar City on Indian Point Road. Years later, after I graduated from college in 1985, I fulfilled my childhood dream to work at Silver Dollar City and lived in a nn to Branson.

Indian Point Campground was the first place these Yankee ears met a boy named Travis. He and his family were fellow campers, and we noticed his unusual first name when his mother kept shouting it on the tram from Indian Point to Shepherd of the Hills.

We always took the Shepherd of the Hills tours then. My mom especially loved the Rose O'Neill shop there, full of Kewpie Dolls, and Old Matt's Cabin.

On early trips to Silver Dollar City, I always dressed for the occasion. I'd wear my Big Smith bib overalls and a felt hillbilly hat, with a gold SDC sticker on it so it was clear the hat was paid for. As I bneighborhood just off that very road.

We always took the Shepherd of the Hills tours then. My mom especially loved the Rose O'Neill shop there, full of Kewpie Dolls, and Old Matt's Cabin.

Back in those days, when you paid your admission, you'd get a ticket with about a half-dozen places for punch holes on it. You could pick six rides, or the same ride several times, and each time you got on a ride, your ticket was punched. Once the ticket was full, you were done riding rides.

Most of the time, we took advantage of the park's "Arrive after 3, next day free" policy, and we'd go back the next day. Some years, we even bought season passes.

From the time I was 7 until I graduated from high school, we went to Silver became a teen, my dress was more akin to Elly May Clampett's, with Levi's cutoffs and gingham shirts.

Most of the time, we took advantage of the park's "Arrive after 3, next day free" policy, and we'd go back the next day. Some years, we even bought season passes.

From the time I was 7 until I graduated from high school, we went to Silver Dollar City every year. Branson and the beautiful Ozarks are what inspired my parents to buy property near Mountain View in 1977 and become permanent transplants.

I've continued our family tradition by taking my sons to Branson and Silver Dollar City and buying season passes from the time my 14-year-old was three months of age.

I've showed them what's changed and what's stayed the same. One of those things that still fascinates me is the fact that Granny Clampett and the other Beverly Hillbillies stood on the balcony of the ice cream parlor in the Silver Dollar City town square, and several episodes were filmed there in the late '60s and e Dollar City every year. Branson and the beautiful Ozarks are what inspired my parents to buy property near Mountain View in 1977 and become permanent transplants.

I've continued our family tradition by taking my sons to Branson and Silver Dollar City and buying season passes from the time my 14-year-old was three months of age.

I've showed them what's changed and what's stayed the same. One of those things that still fascinates me is the fact that Granny Clampett and the other Beverly Hillbillies stood on the balcony of the ice cream parlor in the Silver Dollar City town square, and several episodes were filmed there in the late '60s and early '70s. Right where we watched the Hatfields and McCoys stage their feuds.

This past weekend, my parents were much better passengers than my brothers and I had been as I chauffeured them up and down "The Strip" (Mo. Hwy. 76 – Country Music Boulevard). Although we didn't take in Silver Dollar City this trip, we did see four shows and had a wonderful family vacation, reminiscent of the old days.

***

And, speaking of the Hillbillies, we lost Jed Clampett last week. Actor Buddy Ebsen passed away at age 95. Some may remember him as Barnaby Jones, but he'll always be Uncearly '70s. Right where we watched the Hatfields and McCoys stage their feuds.

***

And, speaking of the Hillbillies, we lost Jed Clampett last week. Actor Buddy Ebsen passed away at age 95. Some may remember him as Barnaby Jones, but he'll always be Uncle Jed to me.

I've often reveled in how wise Jed really was. He was the only one who was really on top of everything. I remember reading somewhere once that Ebsen only agreed to do the part if Jed wasn't seen as some ignorant rube.

Thank goodness for the miracle of television – Ebsen will live on forever.

June 25, 2003

Remembering Locally Produced TV Programs

Nickelodeon. Disney Channel. Cartoon Network. Boomerang. WAM. Discovery For Kids. Animal Planet. Toon Disney. Those are just a few of the television channels aimed mainly at children.

Most kids today might be aghast to learn ncle Jed to me.

Thank goodness for the miracle of television – Ebsen will live on forever.

June 25, 2003

Remembering Locally Produced TV Programs

Nickelodeon. Disney Channel. Cartoon Network. Boomerang. WAM. Discovery For Kids. Animal Planet. Toon Disney. Those are just a few of the television channels aimed mainly at children.

Most kids today might be aghast to learn none of these networks existed back in the Stone Age I refer to as the 1960s and '70s. How on earth did we survive?

Well, I'll tell you. We grabbed the chance to see a Charlie Brown special every holiday or spent each Saturday morning watching four hours straight of cartoons on one of the three networks we DID have – ABC, NBC and CBS. And, if we happened to miss our favorite program, we were just completely and utterly out of luck because, guess what? We didn't have any gosh-darned VCRs back then either!

Starting to sound like I walked uphill to and from school every day in five feet of snow and ate mush for breakfast, lunch and dinnernone of these networks existed back in the Stone Age I refer to as the 1960s and '70s. How on earth did we survive?

Starting to sound like I walked uphill to and from school every day in five feet of snow and ate mush for breakfast, lunch and dinner? It really wasn't like that, and we did have some treats just for us on television.

Like all the other kids, I enjoyed watching Saturday morning cartoons and shows aimed at youngsters. Those included Fat Albert, The Banana Splits, Groovie Ghoulies, Scooby Doo Where Are You?, Sigmund and the Sea Monsters and more. But, once Saturday mornings were over, the television didn't have a whole lot to offer but crime dramas and variety shows.

Probably the best time to catch something good was between the time we got home from school up until Mom hollered that supper was ready. That is, IF the homework was done.

In my grade school years,r? It really wasn't like that, and we did have some treats just for us on television.

Probably the best time to catch something good was between the time we got home from school up until Mom hollered that supper was ready. That is, IF the homework was done.

In my grade school years, I hurried home from the bus stop to watch The Captain Jinks Show. Captain Jinks and 070203jinks.jpg (21999 bytes) Salty Sam hosted a kids show live from the mid-1950s up until 1972 when I was in fourth grade. The two men were actually Stan Lonergan as the Captain and George Baseleon (or possibly Basillion) as his first mate, Salty. Aboard their S.S. Albatross, they would introduce Hannah-Barbera cartoons, along with such gems as Little Rascals, The Three Stooges and Superman. In between, they would pull jokes from the joke barrel (with jokes sent in by local, I hurried home from the bus stop to watch The Captain Jinks Show. Captain Jinks and 070203jinks.jpg (21999 bytes) Salty Sam hosted a kids show live from the mid-1950s up until 1972 when I was in fourth grade. The two men were actually Stan Lonergan as the Captain and George Baseleon (or possibly Basillion) as his first mate, Salty. Aboard their S.S. Albatross, they would introduce Hannah-Barbera cartoons, along with such gems as Little Rascals, The Three Stooges and Superman. In between, they would pull jokes from the joke barrel (with jokes sent in by local kids) and read them, show drawings sent in by viewers, wish some kids happy birthday and even talk to members of their audience, play games with them and offer up prizes.

This year, WEEK, the local NBC affiliate in Peoria, Ill., is celebrating its 50th year in broadcasting and has apparently been airing some special reports about programming over the years. My dad stumbled onto one on the Internet about Captain Jinks and Salty Sam. As I watched it, all the memories flooded back.

One time, when I was a Brownie Scout, my troop went to see the Captain Jinks and Salty Sam show. It was a thrill sitting in the audience and even cooler to get an autogrl kids) and read them, show drawings sent in by viewers, wish some kids happy birthday and even talk to members of their audience, play games with them and offer up prizes.

One time, when I was a Brownie Scout, my troop went to see the Captain Jinks and Salty Sam show. It was a thrill sitting in the audience and even cooler to get an autographed picture from the Captain and Salty and shake their hands after the show. What with all the cameras and lights, it was as good as being in Hollywood to my 7-year-old friends and me.

It never occurred to me that these guys were just the local staff announcer and weatherman with silly mustaches and hats.

creature.jpg (22715 bytes) Another locally produced TV show my brothers and I never missed was The Acri Creature Feature. The show was one of those "monster, horror, chiller theater" types with a local host, dressed as a vampire, werewolf or some other raphed picture from the Captain and Salty and shake their hands after the show. What with all the cameras and lights, it was as good as being in Hollywood to my 7-year-old friends and me.

It never occurred to me that these guys were just the local staff announcer and weatherman with silly mustaches and hats.

In this case, it was Chuck Acri (pronounced AY-kree) himself, the founder of the Acri Company, a home improvement business in central Illinois that pushed aluminum siding during the show. Acri had a cast of ghouls, and they would introduce cheesy old horror movies, usually featuring Vincent Price.

The show was on every Friday at midnight on channel 25 (WEEK) from 1969 through 1976. My brothers, Bob and Mike, and I would always whip up something to snack on upstairs in the kitchen – something like Ruffles with Heinz Ketchup on a flimsy paper plate for dipping or butter-flavored Jiffy Pop and 7-Up or Orange Crush.

T kind of monster.

Then, we'd retire to Bob's wood-paneled room in the cool, musty basement with its cold concrete floor and crackling pipes overhead.

The show always started out with a screen full of what appeared to be some of that Heinz, dripping down a piece of white aluminum siding, with character-generated white lettering superimposed over the streaming red, complete with a woman's screams heard in the background.

Now, THOSE were the days.

Unless you count some dialing for dollars programs and good morning shows, they really don't make local TV like that any more.

June 25, 2003

Crop Circles, RThen, we'd retire to Bob's wood-paneled room in the cool, musty basement with its cold concrete floor and crackling pipes overhead.

The show always started out with a screen full of what appeared to be some of that Heinz, dripping down a piece of white aluminum siding, with character-generated white lettering superimposed over the streaming red, complete with a woman's screams heard in the background.

Now, THOSE were the days.

Unless you count some dialing for dollars programs and good morning shows, they really don't make local TV like that any more.

June 25, 2003

Crop Circles, Running and the CSI Guy

When I'm not stuck in the '70s, there ARE things in '03 that interest me and hold my attention for a time, preoccupying me until I either drive myself or those surrounding me crazy with them.

This past week or three, it's been crop circles, running (or trying to) and the CSI guy.

A 10-circle crop formation was discovered June 7 in a wheat field in Knobel, just northeast of Pocahontas.

I've always been a big fan of X-Files and anything having to do with paranormal phenomena. I don't like to argue whether it's real or not (in fact, I'm not much into debating ANYTHING). I just enjoy hearing about itRunning and the CSI Guy

When I'm not stuck in the '70s, there ARE things in '03 that interest me and hold my attention for a time, preoccupying me until I either drive myself or those surrounding me crazy with them.

This past week or three, it's been crop circles, running (or trying to) and the CSI guy.

A 10-circle crop formation was discovered June 7 in a wheat field in Knobel, just northeast of Pocahontas.

Both a Jonesboro TV station and newspaper "covered" the story of the fractal crop formation at Knobel. One report was more tongue in cheek than the other, but neither took the circles seriously, attributing them to someone with a global positioning system, too much time on their hands or little green men.

Many theories exist on the formation of crop circles. As Mulder would say, "I want to believe."

According to the Web site, Earthfiles.com and reporter/editor Linda Moulton Howe, the 10 circles, crisply laid down in clockwise swirls amid the standing wheat at Knobel, make up a pattern similar to one in Saskatchewan, Canada, in September 1999. Howe writes, "The Canada and Arkansas crop formations are a more simple variation on the fractal Julia Sets that have emerged in England since the mid-1990s."

At Knobel, the biggest of the circles was in the middle, 47 feet wide. In the outer three (on three different slightly curving arms), the next biggest one is a 28-foot circle, the next one is 17 feet, and the smallest circles are nine feet.

Farmer Todd Young said the circles were laid out very symmetrically. Young found no tracks between the circles or leading to or from the formation.

Young harvested the field Jern similar to one in Saskatchewan, Canada, in September 1999. Howe writes, "The Canada and Arkansas crop formations are a more simple variation on the fractal Julia Sets that have emerged in England since the mid-1990s."

Farmer Todd Young said the circles were laid out very symmetrically. Young found no tracks between the circles or leading to or from the formation.

Young harvested the field June 10. Bye bye crop circles.

***

In a little over a month, a Batesville foot race will celebrate its 25th anniversary. The 25th annual Healthsouth 4-Mile Classic Road Race will be 7:30 a.m. Aug. 2 downtown, in conjunction with the White River Water Carnival.

The race is under the direction of the White River Roadrunners. Last month, Joe Pool of the club contacted Rob Grace and asked Rob if he would be interested in training for the 4-mile run and writing about it in his column in the Arkansas Weekly. HA, HA, HA, HA!! That Joe is a funny guy.

Rob declined the offer and said, "Ask Julie. ShJune 10. Bye bye crop circles.

***

Rob declined the offer and said, "Ask Julie. She'll do it."

Right.

Several years and 40 pounds ago, I actually did get in decent condition and "run" some 5Ks. That's just over three miles. It was an illusion. I walked most of the way, and when I knew someone was looking, I'd jog. I did it mainly because I enjoyed the camaraderie of the runners. They're a friendly and intelligent lot.

On June 7, the Roadrunners began an 8-week training program to help beginning runners train to run the 4-Mile Classic. Joe provided a training schedule for finishing the race in 60 minutes or less.

For the first week, I followed the training the best I could – that is to say,he'll do it."

Right.

On June 7, the Roadrunners began an 8-week training program to help beginning runners train to run the 4-Mile Classic. Joe provided a training schedule for finishing the race in 60 minutes or less.

For the first week, I followed the training the best I could – that is to say, I got moving. Karin Mohlke, WRD on-air personality and Weekly trainee, agreed to go through the training with me. We'll have something from her in following weeks.

At any rate, Day 1 on the training sheet says "rest day." I did that very well and gave myself a pat on the back. Day 2, however, says "2 miles easy running." Again, right.

I can't run from the bedroom to the front room to answer the phone without getting all out of breath. Day 4 included three miles total running. I did walk and cross train ALL of the miles the sheet said.

Then, on Day 9, I stepped on a couple of little nails on my porch. The botto, I got moving. Karin Mohlke, WRD on-air personality and Weekly trainee, agreed to go through the training with me. We'll have something from her in following weeks.

At any rate, Day 1 on the training sheet says "rest day." I did that very well and gave myself a pat on the back. Day 2, however, says "2 miles easy running." Again, right.

Then, on Day 9, I stepped on a couple of little nails on my porch. The bottom of my right foot is swollen, and it hurts to step on. So, that's my excuse for sloughing off this week.

On Day 13, I'm back on it. I may not be able to "run" that four miles Aug. 2, but at least, if I do what I'm supposed to, thanks to the Roadrunners, I should be able to run to the phone without getting winded.

For information about the Roadrunners or the race, contact Joe at 870-793-3867 or Ken McSpadden at 870-793-2462.

***

William Petersen, also known as Gil Grissom on CSI: Crime Scene Investigation. The CBS drama was the top-rated show on television again this seasom of my right foot is swollen, and it hurts to step on. So, that's my excuse for sloughing off this week.

For information about the Roadrunners or the race, contact Joe at 870-793-3867 or Ken McSpadden at 870-793-2462.

***

William Petersen, also known as Gil Grissom on CSI: Crime Scene Investigation. The CBS drama was the top-rated show on television again this season. Back on Nov. 6, I wrote in this space about him, calling him that week's obsession. I'm sad to announce – I'm not over it. In fact, I sent him a copy of the column and picture of my face Photoshopped onto his co-star's body, and I received an autographed 8x10 in return.

I'm a regular at the William Petersen Appreciation Page at billypetersen.com. Of course, it's common knowledge among us Grissom gals that the actor got married June 14 to his longtime girlfriend, Gina Something-or-other. Well, that hasn't deterred me.

I learned on the WPAP site last week that Billy (as his homeys call him) will be present at Pathology Today: The 2003 son. Back on Nov. 6, I wrote in this space about him, calling him that week's obsession. I'm sad to announce – I'm not over it. In fact, I sent him a copy of the column and picture of my face Photoshopped onto his co-star's body, and I received an autographed 8x10 in return.

I learned on the WPAP site last week that Billy (as his homeys call him) will be present at Pathology Today: The 2003 ASCP (American Society for Clinical Pathology) Annual Meeting in September in New Orleans. Oh my gosh! That's, like, in the state just south of us.

Billy will receive ASCP's Special Recognition Award "for his positive portrayal of forensic and investigative sciences through his work on CSI – in addition to the tremendous increase in the public's awareness of pathology and medical laboratory science that he has helped create."

Then, get a load of this, he and his associate producer will present "Behind the Scenes of CSI: A Look at the Pathology and Special Effects" in a 90-minute special session.

I im ASCP (American Society for Clinical Pathology) Annual Meeting in September in New Orleans. Oh my gosh! That's, like, in the state just south of us.

Then, get a load of this, he and his associate producer will present "Behind the Scenes of CSI: A Look at the Pathology and Special Effects" in a 90-minute special session.

I immediately contacted ASCP's communications department and have received the OK from them to cover these two events for WRD Entertainment Inc. Woo-hoo!!

I am certain, across that hotel seminar room, when Billy's baby blues meet my chocolaty eyes, he will realize what a mistake he has made in marrying that science teacher from Chicago and run right into my arms.

In that November "Reminiscin'," I speculated Billy would perhaps become the next celebrity I have the pleasure of meeting, and now, it looks like that obsession may just come true.

Stay tuned ...

June 11, 2003

Ammediately contacted ASCP's communications department and have received the OK from them to cover these two events for WRD Entertainment Inc. Woo-hoo!!

I am certain, across that hotel seminar room, when Billy's baby blues meet my chocolaty eyes, he will realize what a mistake he has made in marrying that science teacher from Chicago and run right into my arms.

In that November "Reminiscin'," I speculated Billy would perhaps become the next celebrity I have the pleasure of meeting, and now, it looks like that obsession may just come true.

Stay tuned ...

June 11, 2003

About Meeting Mr. Green Jeans ...

Getting up and going in the morning has never been easy. And it seems to be getting even more difficult with age.

There has to be some sort of a routine on weekday mornings. Doing the same thing at the same time every morning seems to help a bit.

These days, it involves turning on the Weather Channel to see the day's forecast; hoppin in the shower; waking up two sons, fighting for a half-hour with the youngest one over WHY he should get up, get dressed and have breakfast; scooping the litter box; seeing what's on Good Morning, America; and heading out that door at 7:30 a.m.

Right now, I'm reAbout Meeting Mr. Green Jeans ...

Getting up and going in the morning has never been easy. And it seems to be getting even more difficult with age.

There has to be some sort of a routine on weekday mornings. Doing the same thing at the same time every morning seems to help a bit.

These days, it involves turning on the Weather Channel to see the day's forecast; hoppin in the shower; waking up two sons, fighting for a half-hour with the youngest one over WHY he should get up, get dressed and have breakfast; scooping the litter box; seeing what's on Good Morning, America; and heading out that door at 7:30 a.m.

Right now, I'm readjusting my workday morning schedule to compensate for not having to get two boys going. That's thrown me off a bit and caused me to wax nostalgic about my childhood mornings. It didn't seem so hard to get up then.

My mother has always been cheerful and friendly. In fact, her nickname when she was a waitress or a fountain girl was "Sunny" because of her sunny personality. Apparently, I take after my father in that department.

Mom used to come into my bedroom on school mornings, pull the window shade so it would snap and roll all the way up to the top, making several revolutions and allowing the rising sun to shine directly in my face. eadjusting my workday morning schedule to compensate for not having to get two boys going. That's thrown me off a bit and caused me to wax nostalgic about my childhood mornings. It didn't seem so hard to get up then.

Somehow, I'd get up and have my Cap'n Crunch, Count Chocula or Super Sugar Crisp. And, before you'd know it, I'd be on the couch, watching Captain Kangaroo, waiting on the time to head to the bus stop.

Even into my high school years, I had a hard time pulling myself away from the Captain. I loved to listen to him read about Caps for Sale, Mike Mulligan the Steam Shovel or Make Way For Ducklings. I enjoyed watching his ongoing battle to keep Mr. Moose from dropping ping pong balls on his head or to keep Bunny Rabbit from getting the carrots. And Dennis the A Then, she'd sing-song, "Morning time! Time to get up." And she'd leave.

Even into my high school years, I had a hard time pulling myself away from the Captain. I loved to listen to him read about Caps for Sale, Mike Mulligan the Steam Shovel or Make Way For Ducklings. I enjoyed watching his ongoing battle to keep Mr. Moose from dropping ping pong balls on his head or to keep Bunny Rabbit from getting the carrots. And Dennis the Apprentice, well, it didn't get any better than that.

I used to like Mr. Green Jeans too. I say "used to" because, after I met Mr. Green Jeans in person, I changed my mind.

I couldn't have been much more than 4 or 5 years old when my mom took me to Bergner's Department Store, home of the Singing Christmas Tree, in Sheridan Village shopping center in Peoria, Ill., to meet Hugh "Lumpy" Brannum, who I knew only as Mr. Green Jeans. Heck, I didn't even realize at that age that he also played Mr. Bainter the Painter and several others on the Captain's show.

I don't remember a whole awful lot about that experience, but what I&nApprentice, well, it didn't get any better than that.

I used to like Mr. Green Jeans too. I say "used to" because, after I met Mr. Green Jeans in person, I changed my mind.

I don't remember a whole awful lot about that experience, but what I DO remember is not pleasant. I remember waiting in line behind a whole bunch of other kids and moms in the middle of a department that smelled strongly of "old lady perfume." When I finally got up close enough to see Mr. Green Jeans, I remember seeing him hand something to each kid, and the line would move on.

At last, Mom and I approached Mr. Green Jeans. I was excited to see him before me in his trademark green denim jacket and dungarees, larger than life. I don't remember saying anything to him or vice versa. I do remember seeing a rubber stamp hit a black ink pad, then strike an 8x10 black and white glossy of Mr. Green Jeans pictured wnbsp;DO remember is not pleasant. I remember waiting in line behind a whole bunch of other kids and moms in the middle of a department that smelled strongly of "old lady perfume." When I finally got up close enough to see Mr. Green Jeans, I remember seeing him hand something to each kid, and the line would move on.

At last, Mom and I approached Mr. Green Jeans. I was excited to see him before me in his trademark green denim jacket and dungarees, larger than life. I don't remember saying anything to him or vice versa. I do remember seeing a rubber stamp hit a black ink pad, then strike an 8x10 black and white glossy of Mr. Green Jeans pictured with Mr. Moose (I believe). The stamp was a signature. Mr. Green Jeans handed me the picture and said something like "There ya go. Move along."

"Lumpy" Brannum died of cancer at age 77 in 1987, and for that, I'm sorry. But, to this day, I don't understand why he couldn't have quickly scribbled his John Hancock on that 8x10. From then on, when I saw Mr. Green Jeans on TV, all I could think was, "He doesn't really have the time for little kids."

Just a few years ago, I saw that Bob Keeshan (the Captain) was going to be involved in an online chat. Hundreds, maybe thousands, of Internet surfers had gotten into the chat with Mr. Moose (I believe). The stamp was a signature. Mr. Green Jeans handed me the picture and said something like "There ya go. Move along."

Just a few years ago, I saw that Bob Keeshan (the Captain) was going to be involved in an online chat. Hundreds, maybe thousands, of Internet surfers had gotten into the chat room, and only a handful would have their questions answered. I was thrilled to death when the Captain answered the question I had asked. However, I can't remember exactly what I asked or what his answer was. I do remember it was something about the state of today's children's morals and raising a "good" kid in the new millennium.

What I SHOULD have done was tell him how much I miss him in the mornings and ask him, "Would you not have signed your own 8x10 glossy had you been at that department store?"

June 4, 2003

Summer Calls For Frosty Drinks

Summer's not off room, and only a handful would have their questions answered. I was thrilled to death when the Captain answered the question I had asked. However, I can't remember exactly what I asked or what his answer was. I do remember it was something about the state of today's children's morals and raising a "good" kid in the new millennium.

What I SHOULD have done was tell him how much I miss him in the mornings and ask him, "Would you not have signed your own 8x10 glossy had you been at that department store?"

June 4, 2003

Summer Calls For Frosty Drinks

Summer's not officially here yet, but school's out, Memorial Day is history, and my quest for the ultimate way to keep a beverage cold picks up where it left off last year.

It's the same thing every year. I'm looking for a container or something to help keep my diet cola nice and cold while I sit poolside – OK, the pool is a 10-buck plastic job I got at a local discount store, but it still qualifies as a pool.

As far back as I can remember, I've been finding a guy with a pickup to haul a little pool to my yard each May. Then, I spend much of the summer dangling my feet in the water, cold drink atop a little plastic table and portable radio nearby, tuned to a WRficially here yet, but school's out, Memorial Day is history, and my quest for the ultimate way to keep a beverage cold picks up where it left off last year.

Just ice cubes in a 16-ounce Tupperware cup doesn't seem to do the trick in Arkansas' summer heat. One year, I found little hollow plastic thingies, in the shapes of starfish, clams, palm trees and the like. They were filled with water and could be frozen, then used over and over in drinks.

There were a few problems with those, though. The little suckers thaw out quite quickly, they get holes at the seams and there was a recall on them due to little kids choking on 'em. Because I had a toddler at the time, I tossed those out.

Next came what I affectionately refer to as "the freezy mugs." You've seen RD Entertainment station.

Next came what I affectionately refer to as "the freezy mugs." You've seen them. They are plastic mugs, usually see-through, with hollow walls filled with water. One puts the mug in her freezer, and voila! You have a freezy mug. These work quite well with a cold beverage, but they don't stay frozen very long. That's why I have at least a half dozen in my freezer. They also crack and leak out all the magical freezy substance when dropped on the kitchen floor.

I next tried the freezy huggy. This is a variation of the freezy mug. A huggy is the device in which you can place a cold can of your favorite drink. These ones have some of that blue stuff in them, and you pop them in the freezer like the freezy mugs. Works pretty well them. They are plastic mugs, usually see-through, with hollow walls filled with water. One puts the mug in her freezer, and voila! You have a freezy mug. These work quite well with a cold beverage, but they don't stay frozen very long. That's why I have at least a half dozen in my freezer. They also crack and leak out all the magical freezy substance when dropped on the kitchen floor.

If you're like me, however, drinks just seem colder with ice in them. And, better yet, crushed ice. My old freezer in the top portion of my refrigerator was not endowed with an ice-maker.

When I was a kid, we had an old hand-cranked ice crusher. It was made out of metal and mounted to my dad's workbench. The inside of it was equipped with some sharp rotors, and it had a lid and a crank on the side. You plop the ice cubes in, close the lid, put your cup underneath the crusher and turn the crank – one way for coarse ice and the other way for fine.

I'm sure our old ice crusher was either left behind at a former residence or it's inl.

If you're like me, however, drinks just seem colder with ice in them. And, better yet, crushed ice. My old freezer in the top portion of my refrigerator was not endowed with an ice-maker.

I'm sure our old ice crusher was either left behind at a former residence or it's in a box somewhere in one of my parents' sheds (yes, they also have two sheds). I felt it necessary last year to acquire my own ice crusher of the very same design.

I found the exact same 1950s model on E-bay and won the auction easily. My dad created a bracket and mounted the crusher on my kitchen counter. Beautiful!

Now then, to make this whole thing complete, I need the perfect tumblers for keeping my drinks cold. You might remember these:

They were made out of aluminum and usually came in very bright shiny shades of blue, red, green, purple, pink, gold and silver. I don't think we had a set of them – we had lots of Tupperware &#n a box somewhere in one of my parents' sheds (yes, they also have two sheds). I felt it necessary last year to acquire my own ice crusher of the very same design.

I found the exact same 1950s model on E-bay and won the auction easily. My dad created a bracket and mounted the crusher on my kitchen counter. Beautiful!

Now then, to make this whole thing complete, I need the perfect tumblers for keeping my drinks cold. You might remember these:

They were made out of aluminum and usually came in very bright shiny shades of blue, red, green, purple, pink, gold and silver. I don't think we had a set of them – we had lots of Tupperware – but I remember visiting at friends' and relatives' houses and being served my cola, root beer or Kool-Aid in one of these aluminum tumblers, filled with ice. It made my teeth hurt to drink from them. The outsides would frost up, and you'd better be careful not to stick your tongue to the outside of the cup.

When I mentioned these tumblers to my parents last weekend, my dad said he was sure he saw a catalog that features a brand new version of them. Sure enough, we found them in the Vermont Country Store catalog's online version at vermontcountrystore.com. They are available in lime, plum, silver, gold, blue, red, yellow and green.

The tumble#150; but I remember visiting at friends' and relatives' houses and being served my cola, root beer or Kool-Aid in one of these aluminum tumblers, filled with ice. It made my teeth hurt to drink from them. The outsides would frost up, and you'd better be careful not to stick your tongue to the outside of the cup.

The tumblers can also be found through E-bay and other online auctions and antique sites with brand names such as Color Craft, Perma Hues, Bascal, Sunburst and Kromex.

I've gotten my order in for a set of four 16-ounce tumblers. I can hear that crushed ice plunking into the aluminum now. Here's to summer!

May 28, 2003

Family Vacations Ain't What They Used to Be

Family vacations ain't what they used to be.

My parents had it so together when my brothers and I were kids. Everything seemed so well-planned and executed. Of course, it ALWAYS rained, but that never seemed to detract from the ers can also be found through E-bay and other online auctions and antique sites with brand names such as Color Craft, Perma Hues, Bascal, Sunburst and Kromex.

I've gotten my order in for a set of four 16-ounce tumblers. I can hear that crushed ice plunking into the aluminum now. Here's to summer!

May 28, 2003

Family Vacations Ain't What They Used to Be

Family vacations ain't what they used to be.

Caterpillar Tractor Co. in Peoria, Ill., gave employees like my dad two weeks in the middle of July for their vacations. I'm sure there was other time off throughout the year, but everyone in the neighborhood, and perhaps much of the town, went on what we called "Cat Vacation." They even have the Heart of Illinois Fair during Cat Vacation because people are able to attend then, or so I'm told.

We would often spend a week or more on our Cat Vacations. For two years in a row, we took our pastel green Grand Torino station wagon through parts of Illinois and Iowa up to South Dakota. The trip seemed to go on forever, and fun and excitement.

I mostly sat in the very back of the station wagon – that was before it was dangerous to ride without seatbelts. OK, before it was a law. And my two older brothers would say things from the back seat just loud enough for me to hear, but not loud enough for our parents up front to hear. Things such as, "How about that Julie? Why, she'd get lost in a herd of baby apes!"

This set me off. I was 6 and 7 years old when we made those journeys, and I had no retort for something as good as the baby ape thing. "You stink!" was about the best I could do. Plus, I was no good probably being over 1,000 miles each way, it did.

Somewhere not far from Sioux City, Iowa, I left my new Alice in Wonderland watch in a gas station bathroom, and Dad wouldn't go back for it. That kept me bawling for awhile. Gosh, I did a lot of crying.

We saw the Corn Palace in Mitchell, S.D, camped at The Flintstones Bedrock City in Custer, S.D., and visited Mount Rushmore. I was especially surprised when the Tooth Fairy found our tent near Mount Rushmore. I'll never forget waking up that morning, the only one in the tent. I discovered a shiny half-dollar under my pillow and went outside to see what t at keeping my voice down or keeping from sobbing loudly, bringing Mom's wrath upon us all.

We saw the Corn Palace in Mitchell, S.D, camped at The Flintstones Bedrock City in Custer, S.D., and visited Mount Rushmore. I was especially surprised when the Tooth Fairy found our tent near Mount Rushmore. I'll never forget waking up that morning, the only one in the tent. I discovered a shiny half-dollar under my pillow and went outside to see what the rest of the family was doing. The sun was coming up, and from the top of the hill where we camped, it shone bright orange and pink on all four presidents' faces.

We came eventually to Rosebud in southern South Dakota to the Rosebud Sioux Indian Reservation near the Nebraska state line. There, we made friends with some Native Americans and I, with my summertime dark complexion, was mistaken for a resident of the reservation over and over again by tourists. The locals had a big laugh over me buying and wearing bells around my ankles. Ends up, only boys wear those.

I'm afraid I've been unable to provide such elaborate and long vacations for my boys. the rest of the family was doing. The sun was coming up, and from the top of the hill where we camped, it shone bright orange and pink on all four presidents' faces.

I'm afraid I've been unable to provide such elaborate and long vacations for my boys. But, we do stuff in as much fun as we can, try to see new things and go on occasional adventures. Take this past weekend, for example.

Our mission was to go to St. Louis for a Cubs-Cardinals game. I got on the Internet and looked for a motel off Interstate 55 because I figured I could find that. We also made arrangements to meet with an old friend of mine Saturday night after the game. That all sounds lovely, doesn't it?

We left Batesville late Friday afternoon in the midst of one of the worst spring storms imaginable. Things had gone haywire here at the radio stations, and three of five of them were off the air. We drove through some pretty But, we do stuff in as much fun as we can, try to see new things and go on occasional adventures. Take this past weekend, for example.

We left Batesville late Friday afternoon in the midst of one of the worst spring storms imaginable. Things had gone haywire here at the radio stations, and three of five of them were off the air. We drove through some pretty heavy stuff and reached the motel past our bedtime. Ends up the place, part of a popular chain whose name I shall not divulge, was an armpit. All the rooms were reserved (I was proud I'd made reservations), and when we got to the room they'd saved for us, we found one bed instead of two. That problem was corrected, but we were then placed in a smoking room because it was all they had left, and the place was disgusting. Just as we were turning off the lights and television that night, someone began rattling the room's door handle. I looked out the peep hole and saw two big, burly guys using a card to try to get in. I motioned to my oldest son who stood next to heavy stuff and reached the motel past our bedtime. Ends up the place, part of a popular chain whose name I shall not divulge, was an armpit. All the rooms were reserved (I was proud I'd made reservations), and when we got to the room they'd saved for us, we found one bed instead of two. That problem was corrected, but we were then placed in a smoking room because it was all they had left, and the place was disgusting. Just as we were turning off the lights and television that night, someone began rattling the room's door handle. I looked out the peep hole and saw two big, burly guys using a card to try to get in. I motioned to my oldest son who stood next to me at the door and yelled in his deepest voice, "I believe you've got the wrong room!" After several more attempts, and scaring the doo-doo out of my youngest son, the men got in their vehicle and left.

I told the boys we'd do our best to convince my friend to let us stay at her house the next night. Well, ends up my friend was ill, and we were forced to stay at the skanky motel a second night. Except, our card wouldn't work on the door the next night. Once that was remedied, we found the same ol' roach on the bathroom floor.

In between, though, we had a grand time trying to figure out how to get from the motel to Busch Stadium without me at the door and yelled in his deepest voice, "I believe you've got the wrong room!" After several more attempts, and scaring the doo-doo out of my youngest son, the men got in their vehicle and left.

In between, though, we had a grand time trying to figure out how to get from the motel to Busch Stadium without actually having to drive into downtown. We got lost at the airport for awhile before finding the Metrolink station. The Metrolink is a train that takes you crosstown, and it brought us right down to the stadium. The boys really dug that, and it was something new.

After a bit of rain during batting practice, the weather cleared up, and we were able to watch a very exciting ballgame. We got razzed a bit in our Cubs garb by Cards fans, but our team won, the only game in the 4-game series, 2-1. Go Cubs!

So, we packed a lot of food, fun, adventure, a bit of rain, and hopefully memories, into our small vacation weekend. And somehow, we kept ourselves f actually having to drive into downtown. We got lost at the airport for awhile before finding the Metrolink station. The Metrolink is a train that takes you crosstown, and it brought us right down to the stadium. The boys really dug that, and it was something new.

So, we packed a lot of food, fun, adventure, a bit of rain, and hopefully memories, into our small vacation weekend. And somehow, we kept ourselves from getting lost in a crowd of Cardinals fans or even in a herd of baby apes.

May 21, 2003

Does Vehicle Make the Mom?

It's official now. I'm a mom.

Well, technically, I've been a mother for 14 years and two months. But now, I have a minivan to prove it! I traded in the old Plymouth Neon for a fire engine red Dodge Caravan – a mom mobile.

It had gotten to the point where the 14-year-old, who is now 6 feet tall, couldn't sit anywhere in the car without his knees up around his ears. Whenever we tried to haul stuff home from the store, the boys would have to sitfrom getting lost in a crowd of Cardinals fans or even in a herd of baby apes.

May 21, 2003

Does Vehicle Make the Mom?

It's official now. I'm a mom.

Well, technically, I've been a mother for 14 years and two months. But now, I have a minivan to prove it! I traded in the old Plymouth Neon for a fire engine red Dodge Caravan – a mom mobile.

It had gotten to the point where the 14-year-old, who is now 6 feet tall, couldn't sit anywhere in the car without his knees up around his ears. Whenever we tried to haul stuff home from the store, the boys would have to sit in it or under it. For example, the little swimming pool in which I've planted a garden or the numerous rubber tubs I bought and hauled home one at a time to store things in the shed.

We now have abundant space to haul swimming pools, rubber tubs, camping equipment and even bicycles. And, I'm counting on the fact that the van is red to serve as a guy magnet. Just like my very first car, which I got 24 years ago (oh my goodness!) May 5.

My first car was a red 1973 Chevrolet Monte Carlo with an off-white roof. It was a block long and got about 17 miles to the gallon on the highway. I got it two months after my 16th birthday, and I was too cool fort in it or under it. For example, the little swimming pool in which I've planted a garden or the numerous rubber tubs I bought and hauled home one at a time to store things in the shed.

My first car was a red 1973 Chevrolet Monte Carlo with an off-white roof. It was a block long and got about 17 miles to the gallon on the highway. I got it two months after my 16th birthday, and I was too cool for school. Following are some diary entries from 1979 about my new wheels.

May 5, 1979: I got a car! And it's a MONTE CARLO. It's a '73, 2 door automatic, red with white vinyl top! I can't believe it! All together, it cost $1610! We got it at Bush Holloway Ford! It's beautiful! There's alot of stuff we had to go through to get it, but too much to write in here! I brought it home, cleaned it up. Then, I drove it up to show Stacey. We drove to Dunlap. I came home, gave Cathy a ride. Mike & girlfriend came & looked at it. Mike's jealous! The weather was beautiful! So is my car! It's got AM-FM radio, heat-air conditioning, tilt steering wheer school. Following are some diary entries from 1979 about my new wheels.

May 5, 1979: I got a car! And it's a MONTE CARLO. It's a '73, 2 door automatic, red with white vinyl top! I can't believe it! All together, it cost $1610! We got it at Bush Holloway Ford! It's beautiful! There's alot of stuff we had to go through to get it, but too much to write in here! I brought it home, cleaned it up. Then, I drove it up to show Stacey. We drove to Dunlap. I came home, gave Cathy a ride. Mike & girlfriend came & looked at it. Mike's jealous! The weather was beautiful! So is my car! It's got AM-FM radio, heat-air conditioning, tilt steering wheel! More, more, more! I love it! I opened a savings account at the Cat Credit Union. My car is so neat! I'll be paying Dad back bit by bit. I love my car!

May 6, 1979: I worked on my car; cleaning it up. ... My speedometer bulb is burnt out, and at night, I can't see how fast I'm going. And the window on the driver's side doesn't work too good. But what do you expect? Everything else is great! I get to drive it to school tomorrow! I hope I don't run out of gas!

On May 15, I noted I put $8 worth of gas in the Monte and got 10 gallons. That's 80 cents a gallon. Not too shabby.

The only boy I attracted with that car was one who el! More, more, more! I love it! I opened a savings account at the Cat Credit Union. My car is so neat! I'll be paying Dad back bit by bit. I love my car!

May 6, 1979: I worked on my car; cleaning it up. ... My speedometer bulb is burnt out, and at night, I can't see how fast I'm going. And the window on the driver's side doesn't work too good. But what do you expect? Everything else is great! I get to drive it to school tomorrow! I hope I don't run out of gas!

On May 15, I noted I put $8 worth of gas in the Monte and got 10 gallons. That's 80 cents a gallon. Not too shabby.

The only boy I attracted with that car was one who was a year younger, didn't have his driver's license yet and wanted me to shuttle him around to visit all his friends. I didn't really mind. After all, he resembled Tom Cruise, and he looked pretty good riding shotgun in the ol' Monte.

May 14, 2003

Reunion is Touching Moment in History

My earliest memory of the Osmond Brothers comes from watching The Andy Williams Show in the mid '60s. The show debuted the year I was born and ran through 1972.

Of course, I've seen plenty of clips of the Osmonds' performances on Williams' show since then, but all I remember about seeing them o was a year younger, didn't have his driver's license yet and wanted me to shuttle him around to visit all his friends. I didn't really mind. After all, he resembled Tom Cruise, and he looked pretty good riding shotgun in the ol' Monte.

May 14, 2003

Reunion is Touching Moment in History

My earliest memory of the Osmond Brothers comes from watching The Andy Williams Show in the mid '60s. The show debuted the year I was born and ran through 1972.

Of course, I've seen plenty of clips of the Osmonds' performances on Williams' show since then, but all I remember about seeing them on there when I was little was something about them being on a bunk bed with four or five bunks and singing their hearts out. Osmond Bros. & Andy Williams

When I got to be 8 or 9, I used my allowance for much Osmond paraphernalia including notebooks, trading cards, record albums and magazines. Jimmy was my personal favorite at the time because he was the youngest in the family of nine children, and he was almost exactly a month younger than me. But, when I hit puberty, Donny became "all that," as the kids say now (they DO still say that, don't they?). He was five yearon there when I was little was something about them being on a bunk bed with four or five bunks and singing their hearts out. Osmond Bros. & Andy Williams

When I got to be 8 or 9, I used my allowance for much Osmond paraphernalia including notebooks, trading cards, record albums and magazines. Jimmy was my personal favorite at the time because he was the youngest in the family of nine children, and he was almost exactly a month younger than me. But, when I hit puberty, Donny became "all that," as the kids say now (they DO still say that, don't they?). He was five years older than me and irresistible while boys my own age were, well – not.

I read everything I could get my hands on about Donny and his brothers, Alan, Wayne, Merrill, Jay and Jimmy, and never missed one of their Saturday morning cartoons. Their faces, ripped from the pages of Tiger Beat magazine and 16, papered my bedroom walls. I knew all the important facts like each of the brother's favorite colors.

I never got to see Donny in concert when I was a kid. That all changed about a year and a half ago. As some of you know, and are probably sick and tired of hearing, I saw Donny perform as a special guest at a Jim Brickman concert in Fayetteville in December 2001. Then, the following April, I traveled to Normal, Ill., near my hometown, to see a Donny concert. More recently, I was able to interview the man himself by phone in connection with my Web site, Stuckinthe70s.com and Sky 99.5.

You'd think that'd be enough, right? Well, normally, it would. This past weekend, my sons and I had a trip to Branson, Mo., planned. We were going to leave Friday after school and return Sunday afternoon after taking in Silver Dollar City and a couple of shows. That Friday morning, I received a FAX from the Moon River Theatre, Andy Williams' theater in Branson.

Wayne, Merrill and Jay do a morning showlle in December 2001. Then, the following April, I traveled to Normal, Ill., near my hometown, to see a Donny concert. More recently, I was able to interview the man himself by phone in connection with my Web site, Stuckinthe70s.com and Sky 99.5.

Wayne, Merrill and Jay do a morning show at the theater daily while Jimmy has his own American Jukebox Show down the strip. The FAX informed me that brothers Donny, Jimmy and Alan would ALL be at the morning show May 5. Alan was diagnosed several years ago with multiple sclerosis and no longer performs on stage.

I stewed on it a few hours before I called the Moon River Theatre and had three complimentary tickets set aside for my boys and me. Heck, we were going to be in town anyway, and what's an extra day?

Boy, was it worth it! A crew from a British television network had arranged the whole Osmond reunion to film a documentary, "Being the Osmonds." The usual three brothew at the theater daily while Jimmy has his own American Jukebox Show down the strip. The FAX informed me that brothers Donny, Jimmy and Alan would ALL be at the morning show May 5. Alan was diagnosed several years ago with multiple sclerosis and no longer performs on stage.

I stewed on it a few hours before I called the Moon River Theatre and had three complimentary tickets set aside for my boys and me. Heck, we were going to be in town anyway, and what's an extra day?

Boy, was it worth it! A crew from a British television network had arranged the whole Osmond reunion to film a documentary, "Being the Osmonds." The usual three brothers performed the first half of the show and hinted that something special was coming up in the second half. Most of the audience was made up of unsuspecting retirees, but scattered here and there were women my age, wearing their Donny concert T-shirts (yes, I had mine on) who were hip to the fact that he was in the house.

Seeing all six singing brothers onstage together, including Alan on a stool and holding a cane, was a very touching reunion. They sang, "He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother," and I bawled. They also did some of their other hits too, throwing in the old Osmond choreography. One song, "Love Me For a Reason," they performed thers performed the first half of the show and hinted that something special was coming up in the second half. Most of the audience was made up of unsuspecting retirees, but scattered here and there were women my age, wearing their Donny concert T-shirts (yes, I had mine on) who were hip to the fact that he was in the house.

Not only were Osmond family members scattered around the audience like a "Where's Waldo" picture, but two rows ahead of us was Mr. Andy Williams. The brothers got him up on the stage at one point, and there were hugs all around. "I think these guys might just make it," Williams said.

Thank goodness for Williams' dad 45 years ago. He discovered Alan, Wayne, Merrill and Jay, singing barbershop at Disneyland and arranged their meeting with Andy.

April 30, 2003
Not only were Osmond family members scattered around the audience like a "Where's Waldo" picture, but two rows ahead of us was Mr. Andy Williams. The brothers got him up on the stage at one point, and there were hugs all around. "I think these guys might just make it," Williams said.

Thank goodness for Williams' dad 45 years ago. He discovered Alan, Wayne, Merrill and Jay, singing barbershop at Disneyland and arranged their meeting with Andy.

April 30, 2003

Gardens Contain Different Memories

Every attempt at a garden in Arkansas has turned up nothing but rocks for me.

While digging with my spade during former tries, I was often reminded of Charlie Brown on Halloween, peering into his trick or treat bag, saying, “I got a rock.” I never had a tiller and worked to prepare the gardens by hand, plucking out a rock at a time.

Once I finally thought I’d gotten all of the rocks out pan>

Gardens Contain Different Memories

Every attempt at a garden in Arkansas has turned up nothing but rocks for me.

Once I finally thought I’d gotten all of the rocks out of the little square patch of ground, it would rain, and more rocks would appear. Discouraged, I gave up vegetable gardening several years ago and have mostly stuck to growing potted plants in windows.

This year, I’ve borrowed an idea from a lady I knew. I bought a small, cheap, plastic swimming pool for under 10 bucks and five 40-pound bags of potting soil for a buck and a half apiece. My boys poked holes with a nail in the bottom of the pool for drainage, and we emptied that 200 pounds of soil into the pool.

I probably planted way of the little square patch of ground, it would rain, and more rocks would appear. Discouraged, I gave up vegetable gardening several years ago and have mostly stuck to growing potted plants in windows.

I probably planted way too much in that little pool, but it looks great so far. We’ve got tomatoes, squash, radishes, cucumbers and sugar snap peas.

Digging around in the little pool brought back the gardens we had in Illinois when I was a kid. There, the dirt was just like rich, brown potting soil.

We always had a really big garden. Mom and Dad planted everything from sweet corn to tomatoes to strawberries. My grandparents on both sides always had huge gardens too.

I remember Grandma Fidler too much in that little pool, but it looks great so far. We’ve got tomatoes, squash, radishes, cucumbers and sugar snap peas.

Digging around in the little pool brought back the gardens we had in Illinois when I was a kid. There, the dirt was just like rich, brown potting soil.

We always had a really big garden. Mom and Dad planted everything from sweet corn to tomatoes to strawberries. My grandparents on both sides always had huge gardens too.

I remember Grandma Fidler for the rhubarb and grapes she had. The best way to eat that rhubarb, to me, was cut up in a bowl with watery, lumpy sugar all over it.

And, at Grandpa Biddison’s he and I would go out to the garden on a hot summer day, salt shakers in hand, pick out a good-looking ripe tomato, salt it and bite into it, right there in the middle of the garden. We’d eat them like apples, tomato juice running down our arms, dripping off into the dirt at our elbows.

At our house, we always had a ton of cats and at least one or two dogs out in r for the rhubarb and grapes she had. The best way to eat that rhubarb, to me, was cut up in a bowl with watery, lumpy sugar all over it.

At our house, we always had a ton of cats and at least one or two dogs out in the yard. When I remember time spent in the garden there, it makes me think about Claude, a German shepherd/collie mix. We called him Claude because he’d eat everything you put on the ground in front of him, even dirt clods. He didn’t stop to smell what was there, he just snarfed it down.

I used Claude as quality control for the garden a time or two when I was 8 or 9 years old. Green onions, small tomatoes, green beans, it didn’t matter. Claude would gobble them up. What was the funniest to watch were the green strawberries. They must have been pretty sour. Claude would go ahead and c the yard. When I remember time spent in the garden there, it makes me think about Claude, a German shepherd/collie mix. We called him Claude because he’d eat everything you put on the ground in front of him, even dirt clods. He didn’t stop to smell what was there, he just snarfed it down.

I used Claude as quality control for the garden a time or two when I was 8 or 9 years old. Green onions, small tomatoes, green beans, it didn’t matter. Claude would gobble them up. What was the funniest to watch were the green strawberries. They must have been pretty sour. Claude would go ahead and chomp them up, then he’d whip his head back and forth, do a doggy sort of cough and look at me with his big dumb brown eyes, anticipating the next berry.

One day, Claude broke his chain and ran and ran. We never saw him again. I hope it wasn’t the strawberries.

April 23, 2003

Poetry Phobia Nearly Leads to Paddling

I came this close to meeting Father Blue in eighth-grade.

Father Blue was Mr. Green's paddle. Mr. Green was the English teacher. Mr. Green looked like a young Wally Cox wichomp them up, then he’d whip his head back and forth, do a doggy sort of cough and look at me with his big dumb brown eyes, anticipating the next berry.

One day, Claude broke his chain and ran and ran. We never saw him again. I hope it wasn’t the strawberries.

April 23, 2003

Poetry Phobia Nearly Leads to Paddling

I came this close to meeting Father Blue in eighth-grade.

Father Blue was Mr. Green's paddle. Mr. Green was the English teacher. Mr. Green looked like a young Wally Cox with black plastic-rimmed glasses.

Mr. Green and Father Blue turned me on to poetry – but not without a tremendous fight.

In the eighth grade at Mossville Junior High School Mr. Green taught poetry as a part of his English class. It was not nearly as neat as orthography, which he also taught.

To this day, I still use what I learned from him in orthography to figure out the meaning of words and how to spell them.

I haven't heard any more about orthography since then. According to The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language, Fourth Edition, 2000, the meaning of orthography includes:

1. The art or study ith black plastic-rimmed glasses.

Mr. Green and Father Blue turned me on to poetry – but not without a tremendous fight.

In the eighth grade at Mossville Junior High School Mr. Green taught poetry as a part of his English class. It was not nearly as neat as orthography, which he also taught.

To this day, I still use what I learned from him in orthography to figure out the meaning of words and how to spell them.

I haven't heard any more about orthography since then. According to The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language, Fourth Edition, 2000, the meaning of orthography includes:

1. The art or study of correct spelling according to established usage. 2. The aspect of language study concerned with letters and their sequences in words. 3. A method of representing a language or the sounds of language by written symbols; spelling.

Everything was cool the first semester of English 8, and I was digging the orthography. Then, after Christmas, Mr. Green told us we would be learning about poetry and how to write poems. We would be keeping our very own poetry notebooks, filled with poems from our very own heads, and the notebooks would be graded weekly.

He might as well have told me I'd be piloting a spaceship to Uranus. The probability of either was of correct spelling according to established usage. 2. The aspect of language study concerned with letters and their sequences in words. 3. A method of representing a language or the sounds of language by written symbols; spelling.

He might as well have told me I'd be piloting a spaceship to Uranus. The probability of either was about the same.

Then there was Father Blue. Mr. Green had fashioned this long, thin paddle out of wood, made lots and lots of holes in it to increase velocity and painted it baby blue. Back in the old days, teachers were allowed to paddle students.

It was mostly boys who were introduced to Father Blue in the junior high hallway outside Mr. Green's classroom. And, once they had made his acquaintance, they were required to sign the paddle. I think this may have been a bragging right or status thing for many of those boys because they sure didn't seem too ashamed or embarrassed to have met up with Father Blue.

Mr. Green would grade our po about the same.

Mr. Green would grade our poetry notebooks by placing a round sticker on the page above each poem. Stickers of various colors meant various things. A purple sticker was the best you could get, as I recall. My first attempt at a poem was titled "I Hate Poems." Somewhere, I still have that little jewel.

I thought it would earn a yellow sticker – the worst. But, no. I had gotten a green or blue or something better than the worst. I was not inspired by that.

For my next poetry assignment, I blatantly plagiarized a song from The Captain and Tennille's Come in From the Rain album – "Circles" – music and lyrics by my idol, Toni Tennille. In part,oetry notebooks by placing a round sticker on the page above each poem. Stickers of various colors meant various things. A purple sticker was the best you could get, as I recall. My first attempt at a poem was titled "I Hate Poems." Somewhere, I still have that little jewel.

I thought it would earn a yellow sticker – the worst. But, no. I had gotten a green or blue or something better than the worst. I was not inspired by that.

"He drew a circle that shut me out
He was afraid of what life was all about.
Whenever I saw him he'd be there inside him,
locking his heart in a place to hide it.
But oh love and I knew just where to begin.
Yes, love and I started a circle within
Oh love and I,
We drew a circle, a beautiful circle,
a wonderful circle that took him in."

Brilliant, I thought. No way Mr. Green owned th, it went like this:

Brilliant, I thought. No way Mr. Green owned that album, and with a composer like Toni, how could I go wrong?

He gave me a yellow dot. I was infuriated. I was sure Toni had worked hard on that song, and she deserved better than a yellow!

As I looked over my paper, shaking my head, I held it up to show a friend at the desk next to mine. My friend gave me a shrug. "He's such a dingleberry," I said to the friend.

My friend cut her eyes sharply to a point just over my left shoulder. That was when I realized Mr. Green was standing right over that shoulder.

"Oh, he IS, is he?" the teacher asked.

Certainly Mr. Green couldn't have known I was referringhat album, and with a composer like Toni, how could I go wrong?

He gave me a yellow dot. I was infuriated. I was sure Toni had worked hard on that song, and she deserved better than a yellow!

As I looked over my paper, shaking my head, I held it up to show a friend at the desk next to mine. My friend gave me a shrug. "He's such a dingleberry," I said to the friend.

My friend cut her eyes sharply to a point just over my left shoulder. That was when I realized Mr. Green was standing right over that shoulder.

"Oh, he IS, is he?" the teacher asked.

Certainly Mr. Green couldn't have known I was referring to HIM as a dingleberry. All I had used was a harmless pronoun.

So, I answered, "Why YES, he is."

"Perhaps you'd like to tell Father Blue about it."

"Uh," I stammered. "No, I don't think so."

Much to my relief, Mr. Green "harumphed" and moved along down the row of desks, Father Blue in hand.

From then on, I wrote my own poems. Ends up, I love writing poems. I'm not great at it. It seems I can only write them when I'm devastated or heart-broken, and every poem (except the famous limerick "Guys Who Wink") are about unfound or unrequited love – but I do eng to HIM as a dingleberry. All I had used was a harmless pronoun.

So, I answered, "Why YES, he is."

"Perhaps you'd like to tell Father Blue about it."

"Uh," I stammered. "No, I don't think so."

Much to my relief, Mr. Green "harumphed" and moved along down the row of desks, Father Blue in hand.

I am in touch with my seventh-grade English teacher, Mr. Lindholm, by e-mail and asked him what Mr. Green is up to these days.

"Mr. Green (and several other Mossville Junior High teachers) quit eight to nine years ago due to a special retirement package called 5+5 that enabled them to retire early. Mr. Green taught at a Catholic school in Metamora for a few years. Now, he works in customer service at CILCO (Central Illinois Light Company)."

Wonder if Father Blue works there too?

Mr. L. went on: "Miss Augustine is busy having adventures all over the world birding. She recently spent njoy writing and reading poetry.

I am in touch with my seventh-grade English teacher, Mr. Lindholm, by e-mail and asked him what Mr. Green is up to these days.

Wonder if Father Blue works there too?

Mr. L. went on: "Miss Augustine is busy having adventures all over the world birding. She recently spent six months in Antarctica. Remember when she was kidnapped in Colombia?"

Miss Augustine was the junior high math teacher. And, no, I don't remember her being kidnapped in Colombia.

Sounds like another column to me.

April 9, 2003

From 2 Sheds to Mowing Lawn Nude

My mom hasn't liked the late John Denver ever since she heard he mowed the lawn in the nude.

Never mind the beautiful music, she just thought that was sick. I thought it was dangerous.

The recent spring weather got me to thinking about gardening, yard work, mowing the lawn and six months in Antarctica. Remember when she was kidnapped in Colombia?"

Miss Augustine was the junior high math teacher. And, no, I don't remember her being kidnapped in Colombia.

Sounds like another column to me.

April 9, 2003

From 2 Sheds to Mowing Lawn Nude

My mom hasn't liked the late John Denver ever since she heard he mowed the lawn in the nude.

Never mind the beautiful music, she just thought that was sick. I thought it was dangerous.

The recent spring weather got me to thinking about gardening, yard work, mowing the lawn and everything else great outdoors. My dad this week donated their year-old mower to a lost cause – my sons and me. We go through at least one lawn mower a year. Vincent, 14, and I have a reverse Midas touch when it comes to them. And Weed Eaters? Forget about it.

I usually start the spring with a new mower, and by mid-August, it's dead and we're living in fear of visits from the city's code enforcement officer. Dad figures the mower deaths are directly linked to exposure to rain and the elements. One year, we tried to keep the mower in the old metal shed, but I'm sure it spent a night or two outside.

This year, I'm gonna remedy that, and the gd everything else great outdoors. My dad this week donated their year-old mower to a lost cause – my sons and me. We go through at least one lawn mower a year. Vincent, 14, and I have a reverse Midas touch when it comes to them. And Weed Eaters? Forget about it.

This year, I'm gonna remedy that, and the growing clutter problem in my house, with a brand new shed! When I told Nick, 10, about the new, nicely built wooden shed to be delivered, he said, "People'll be calling you Arthur 'Two Sheds' Jackson."

That's a pretty obscure reference for a fourth-grader. But then, in fourth grade, yours truly knew about "Two Sheds." In fact, it was right about that time my parents turned me on to Monty Python's Flying Circus. "Two Sheds" comes from a skit on the show. The first time I saw it was in 1972 or '73.

The silly British nonsense from Monty Python is like comfort food to me. If I'm ever down or not feeling well, it's Pgrowing clutter problem in my house, with a brand new shed! When I told Nick, 10, about the new, nicely built wooden shed to be delivered, he said, "People'll be calling you Arthur 'Two Sheds' Jackson."

The silly British nonsense from Monty Python is like comfort food to me. If I'm ever down or not feeling well, it's Python that snaps me out of it. In this particular skit, reminiscent of Bob and Ray, Eric Idle plays a TV interviewer to Terry Jones' Arthur "Two Sheds" Jackson.

Idle introduces Jackson as one of the world's leading modern symphony composers. Right off the bat, he asks him about his famous nickname. "Two Sheds" says he got the nickname from a couple of friends.

When asked if he indeed has two garden sheds, Jackson says, "No, I've only one shed. I've had one for some time, but a few years ago I said I was thinking of getting another one, and since then, people have called me 'Two Sheds.'"

From there, the intPython that snaps me out of it. In this particular skit, reminiscent of Bob and Ray, Eric Idle plays a TV interviewer to Terry Jones' Arthur "Two Sheds" Jackson.

From there, the interviewer keeps asking questions about the sheds and even flashes pictures behind them of sheds.

So, by the time you read this, I will be Julie "Two Sheds" Fidler. And the mower will be in one of those sheds.

Other '70s icons related to the great outdoors include the late, great Denver, of course. I don't believe there is one John Denver song I don't like. My favorites would have to be "Rocky Mountain High," "Country Roads" and "Sunshine on My Shoulders."

When I was in eighth grade, for extra credit, I put together a slide show for my American history class. I was going to use our slide projeterviewer keeps asking questions about the sheds and even flashes pictures behind them of sheds.

So, by the time you read this, I will be Julie "Two Sheds" Fidler. And the mower will be in one of those sheds.

When I was in eighth grade, for extra credit, I put together a slide show for my American history class. I was going to use our slide projector, which was not one of those fancy carousel jobs. You stuck a slide in the top, which forced a slide already in the projector out the bottom side. So, in order to coordinate my slide show with music, I would stand by the projector, shove slides in and pluck slides out.

It was my plan to make a touching presentation of slides we shot on a family vacation to the Badlands, set to "Rocky Mountain High." I brought the record player, slides, projector and what I thought was my John Denver greatest hits album to class. Everything was all set as the other students filed in. When the teacher introduced me, I picked up the album cover and took ector, which was not one of those fancy carousel jobs. You stuck a slide in the top, which forced a slide already in the projector out the bottom side. So, in order to coordinate my slide show with music, I would stand by the projector, shove slides in and pluck slides out.

It was my plan to make a touching presentation of slides we shot on a family vacation to the Badlands, set to "Rocky Mountain High." I brought the record player, slides, projector and what I thought was my John Denver greatest hits album to class. Everything was all set as the other students filed in. When the teacher introduced me, I picked up the album cover and took out the vinyl – which ended up being one of the double album set of the very best of Sonny and Cher. Both albums had yellow record labels, and I guess I put them in the wrong covers. I was really bummed about this, and my classmates were treated to South Dakota vistas to the tune of "I Got You Babe."

The other '70s nature guy who springs to mind is Euell Gibbons. Gibbons was a serious expert on natural foods and the author of Stalking the Wild Asparagus, among other books. But, I remember him as the Post Grape Nuts spokesman and butt of many jokes.

If you search for him on the 'Net, you can find a video file that will bring you right out the vinyl – which ended up being one of the double album set of the very best of Sonny and Cher. Both albums had yellow record labels, and I guess I put them in the wrong covers. I was really bummed about this, and my classmates were treated to South Dakota vistas to the tune of "I Got You Babe."

If you search for him on the 'Net, you can find a video file that will bring you right back to the early '70s. It's that Grape Nuts commercial with Gibbons' famous endorsement, including the phrase, "It's naturally sweet taste reminds me of wild hickory nuts. I call Grape Nuts my back-to-nature cereal."

Dad always called him Euell Nibbles and did a pretty mean impersonation. Gibbons died late in 1975. Many thought the cause of death may have been asphyxiation of a wild hickory nut or tree bark, but he actually died from a heart attack at 64.

Well, I've gotta split now and mow the lawn – in the nude.

April 2, 2003

Grandpa Cussed His Favorite Team
back to the early '70s. It's that Grape Nuts commercial with Gibbons' famous endorsement, including the phrase, "It's naturally sweet taste reminds me of wild hickory nuts. I call Grape Nuts my back-to-nature cereal."

Dad always called him Euell Nibbles and did a pretty mean impersonation. Gibbons died late in 1975. Many thought the cause of death may have been asphyxiation of a wild hickory nut or tree bark, but he actually died from a heart attack at 64.

Well, I've gotta split now and mow the lawn – in the nude.

April 2, 2003

Grandpa Cussed His Favorite Team

Next month, my sons and I are going to get to do something I've wanted to do as long as I can remember – something I kind of got to do 25 years ago.

I have in my possession three tickets to the May 17 Cubs-Cardinals game at Busch Stadium in St. Louis. Woo-hoo!

I've been a Chicago Cubs fan as long as I can remember (more about that in a minute). On May 28, 1978, at 15, I went with Mom and Dad on a bus trip to see a game in St. Louis. Although they only played five innings, we did get to see the Cubs shut out the Cards, 2-0.

It was an exciting, but brief, game. I still have the clipping written by Peoria Journal Star spo>

Next month, my sons and I are going to get to do something I've wanted to do as long as I can remember – something I kind of got to do 25 years ago.

I have in my possession three tickets to the May 17 Cubs-Cardinals game at Busch Stadium in St. Louis. Woo-hoo!

I've been a Chicago Cubs fan as long as I can remember (more about that in a minute). On May 28, 1978, at 15, I went with Mom and Dad on a bus trip to see a game in St. Louis. Although they only played five innings, we did get to see the Cubs shut out the Cards, 2-0.

It was an exciting, but brief, game. I still have the clipping written by Peoria Journal Star sports writer Phil Theobald. I can remember it quite clearly, especially the part before the game where I got almost close enough to Cubs first baseman Bill Buckner to touch him. He was my very favorite at the time.

The game wrapped up a series sweep of the Cardinals, the second one in 10 days. The win went to Ray Burris who gave up only two singles and allowed no Cards beyond first base.

One of the most exciting parts of the game was when Cardinals pitcher John Denny was hit in the forehead above his left eye by Greg Gross' line drive. The ball went *SMACK!* on his head, and down he fell onto the pitcher's mound.

We spent much of the afternoorts writer Phil Theobald. I can remember it quite clearly, especially the part before the game where I got almost close enough to Cubs first baseman Bill Buckner to touch him. He was my very favorite at the time.

The game wrapped up a series sweep of the Cardinals, the second one in 10 days. The win went to Ray Burris who gave up only two singles and allowed no Cards beyond first base.

We spent much of the afternoon going in and out of roofed portions of the stadium in between thunderstorms. The game started an hour and a half late due to rain, then it was called after five innings.

Since then, I've only been able to watch the Cubs on TV, and, until now, that's how I've shared them with my sons. Julie & Grandpa B. 1969

I'm hoping to make some Cubs memories with them just like my Grandpa Biddison (mom's dad) did when I was a kid. He would talk about taking me to Wrigley Field for a game some day, but it never happened. By the time the 1978 trip rolled around, we'd already oon going in and out of roofed portions of the stadium in between thunderstorms. The game started an hour and a half late due to rain, then it was called after five innings.

Since then, I've only been able to watch the Cubs on TV, and, until now, that's how I've shared them with my sons. Julie & Grandpa B. 1969

He was there in spirit, cursing the Cubs all along.

It always fascinated me how Grandpa would cuss at his "Cubbies," but he would never miss a game. When a Cub would strike out, Grandpa would yell at the television, "You @#*! You couldn't hit the ground with your hat!"

I remember Grandpa showing me a playing card with a picture of Cub Ron Santo on it. The card was one in a deck used for playing a version of baseball. At the top, it says "Pop Out," and below, it says "Runners do not advance."

Holding the card in his hand, Grandpa har-umphed and said, "Pop out. That's about lost him.

He was there in spirit, cursing the Cubs all along.

Holding the card in his hand, Grandpa har-umphed and said, "Pop out. That's about all HE's good for. You can have 'im." And he gave me the card, which I still have today.

I got lots of cards from Grandpa B. when he got disgusted with certain players. Somehow, I even got Ernie Banks. Must've been a bad day for Ernie.

I spent many weekend afternoons sitting on the left arm of my grandfather's LA-Z-Boy. The color television set in front of us blared the game on Channel 9, WGN, which he picked up with an antenna atop the roof of his and Grandma's Peoria home, about 150 miles south of the Windy City.

Beside us, on his black nightstand, there was a radio, also tuned to the Cubs game, also at a very loud volume all HE's good for. You can have 'im." And he gave me the card, which I still have today.

I got lots of cards from Grandpa B. when he got disgusted with certain players. Somehow, I even got Ernie Banks. Must've been a bad day for Ernie.

Beside us, on his black nightstand, there was a radio, also tuned to the Cubs game, also at a very loud volume. Inside the cabinet of the nightstand was where Grandpa stashed his baseball cards.

I'd sit either on the arm of his chair or on in his lap and take in the Cubs games from all angles.

The most exciting games were the ones against the Cardinals. We lived about 175 miles north of St. Louis. Because our hometown was smackdab between Chicago and St. Louis, the rivalry was very strong.

While one household did yardwork wearing the red "C" on their blue ballcaps, the nextdoor neighbor had a white "StL" on his red cap. You couldn't like both. You had to be true to one or the other, Grandpa would say.

We've made e. Inside the cabinet of the nightstand was where Grandpa stashed his baseball cards.

I'd sit either on the arm of his chair or on in his lap and take in the Cubs games from all angles.

The most exciting games were the ones against the Cardinals. We lived about 175 miles north of St. Louis. Because our hometown was smackdab between Chicago and St. Louis, the rivalry was very strong.

We've made our choice, and we stick by it. Although the Cubs haven't seen a World Series in about a thousand years, we diehard Cubby fans keep on hoping.

The way I look at it, at least we're never too disappointed; plus it gives us something to gripe about.

Here's to hoping the Cubbies do Grandpa proud next month against the Cards!

March 26, 2003

Honest Ramblings for Area Students

When Sulphur Rock School counselor Kathy Hyslip asked me to speak to some students about "honesty," I had all kinds of great things in mind. That was last fall.

The talk wasn' our choice, and we stick by it. Although the Cubs haven't seen a World Series in about a thousand years, we diehard Cubby fans keep on hoping.

The way I look at it, at least we're never too disappointed; plus it gives us something to gripe about.

Here's to hoping the Cubbies do Grandpa proud next month against the Cards!

March 26, 2003

Honest Ramblings for Area Students

When Sulphur Rock School counselor Kathy Hyslip asked me to speak to some students about "honesty," I had all kinds of great things in mind. That was last fall.

The talk wasn't until this past week. Somewhere between last September and last week, I lost it.

Sulphur Rock School has adopted a Character-Centered Teaching program this school year, and I think that's such a fabulous idea. Although most of us try to teach our children good character traits, some of them miss out on what makes a well-rounded person. Ms. Hyslip let me choose about which topic I'd speak.

I guess I chose honesty because it's one of the traits I strive for and hope that my children adopt. Sometimes, of course, I've messed up royally. I've even lost friends and acquaintances because I've said or done something without thinking of the consequences't until this past week. Somewhere between last September and last week, I lost it.

I guess I chose honesty because it's one of the traits I strive for and hope that my children adopt. Sometimes, of course, I've messed up royally. I've even lost friends and acquaintances because I've said or done something without thinking of the consequences first, and I'm not always completely honest. But, I do have a real problem telling lies, and I'm not good at it. My mom could always look at my face and tell I was lying, and somehow, I figure everyone else can too.

So, I was going to talk about why it's good to be honest, how honesty can really get you far in life and how being dishonest will get you nothing but trouble and regrets.

A week or so before the talk, Ms. Hyslip called to remind me about it. D-OH! I had forgotten, of course. Then, a speech began to form in my pea brain, but nothing made it to paper.

A few days before the talk, I got a note from the counselor saying, in pars first, and I'm not always completely honest. But, I do have a real problem telling lies, and I'm not good at it. My mom could always look at my face and tell I was lying, and somehow, I figure everyone else can too.

So, I was going to talk about why it's good to be honest, how honesty can really get you far in life and how being dishonest will get you nothing but trouble and regrets.

A week or so before the talk, Ms. Hyslip called to remind me about it. D-OH! I had forgotten, of course. Then, a speech began to form in my pea brain, but nothing made it to paper.

A few days before the talk, I got a note from the counselor saying, in part, "Please tell how you use honesty in your life and also tie it in with patriotism." Now I was getting nervous. Still, the Friday before the Tuesday assembly, I had not typed anything into my word processor.

That Friday night, I sat down at my home computer. I ended up surfing the 'Net and getting carried away downloading songs from one site. To make a long story short, I tripped over a cat in my bathroom during a break in the fun, landed in the tub and heard something in my tailbone go "crunch."

As the pain coursed through my extremities, I forgot all about honesty. I could hardly move for the next three or four days, burt, "Please tell how you use honesty in your life and also tie it in with patriotism." Now I was getting nervous. Still, the Friday before the Tuesday assembly, I had not typed anything into my word processor.

As the pain coursed through my extremities, I forgot all about honesty. I could hardly move for the next three or four days, but I managed to jot down a few ideas for my talk.

I realized the morning of the talk, when Ms. Hyslip called me at work to ask if we were still on, I'd be speaking to all the teachers and about 180 students in the school's cafetorium during an assembly.

By the time I got to the school, I was so nervous, I had no idea what I was going to say. Ms. Hyslip had asked me to start out by saying something about Stuck in the '70s, my Web site, and how I've gotten to interview some of my favorite celebrities.

Well, Mr. Crow, counselor, introduced me. I walked up to the podium, looked out at all of the adorable little faces and went straight into my sut I managed to jot down a few ideas for my talk.

Well, Mr. Crow, counselor, introduced me. I walked up to the podium, looked out at all of the adorable little faces and went straight into my story about honesty. I told the kids about the time when I was 6 or 7 and broke a ceramic vase. Instead of lying about it and acting as though I didn't know what had happened, I went to my mom, told her I broke the vase and received a hug because I'd been honest about it.

From there, I'm not sure what I said. The students were quiet and polite, but I feared my ramblings about Donny Osmond and the "me decade" went right over their heads. Heck, even the teachers seemed young to this old woman who had just turned 40 and fallen in the tub.

All was not lost though. I stood by the cafetorium exit as the students filed quietly out after thestory about honesty. I told the kids about the time when I was 6 or 7 and broke a ceramic vase. Instead of lying about it and acting as though I didn't know what had happened, I went to my mom, told her I broke the vase and received a hug because I'd been honest about it.

All was not lost though. I stood by the cafetorium exit as the students filed quietly out after the assembly. One little girl asked, "How can I get to meet a celebrity?"

"Don't ever give up," I told her.

A bigger boy came to me and said, "You did good."

Then, as the fifth- and sixth-graders at the end of the line made their way to the exit, two boys approached me. They were snapping their fingers and singing "I'm a little bit country, I'm a little bit rock and roll ..."

"THAT'S IT!" I yelled. I had connected.

March 19, 2003

Dad's Memory of Property Differs

Isn't it fascinating that parents and their che assembly. One little girl asked, "How can I get to meet a celebrity?"

"Don't ever give up," I told her.

A bigger boy came to me and said, "You did good."

"THAT'S IT!" I yelled. I had connected.

March 19, 2003

Dad's Memory of Property Differs

Isn't it fascinating that parents and their children can have two completely different views of the same memory?

I'm about to give you a "for example."

My memory of learning how to swim is brief and simple. It's similar to those you've heard where someone is thrown into the water and forced to swim or drown. Mine was nowhere near as traumatic as that though.

My family was at a place I will call Swan Lake, so as not to generate bad feelings once I reveal more about our family's experience there. The swimming beach at this manmade lake had a swimming dock toward the middle.

My brothers are both self-taught swimmers. By this time, I was somewhere between 5 ahildren can have two completely different views of the same memory?

I'm about to give you a "for example."

My brothers are both self-taught swimmers. By this time, I was somewhere between 5 and 7 years old, which would put them at 9-11 and 13-15. I was the typical, tag-along, pesky little sister. At one point, they decided, in the lake, they would lose me by swimming out to that dock. I couldn't swim.

Bob and Mike swam for the dock, and I followed them, paddling with my feet and using the same overhand stroke they were demonstrating. Voila! I'd learned to swim.

Thinking about my first swimming experience brought back memories of Swan Lake and how we came to be there. In my head, what I remember about Swan Lake is this:

1) The swimming experience described above.

2) A small "club house" and swimming pand 7 years old, which would put them at 9-11 and 13-15. I was the typical, tag-along, pesky little sister. At one point, they decided, in the lake, they would lose me by swimming out to that dock. I couldn't swim.

Bob and Mike swam for the dock, and I followed them, paddling with my feet and using the same overhand stroke they were demonstrating. Voila! I'd learned to swim.

Thinking about my first swimming experience brought back memories of Swan Lake and how we came to be there. In my head, what I remember about Swan Lake is this:

1) The swimming experience described above.

2) A small "club house" and swimming pool where I once brought my next-door neighbor/friend, Debbie. In this very same pool, we were required to wear some pretty goofy-looking bathing caps, made out of rubbery plastic, decorated with big, plastic flowers. Being a tomboy, I protested the swimming caps and the fact that I couldn't wear cutoff blue jeans and a T-shirt in the pool.

3) Fishing with my Grandpa Biddison. We used bamboo poles with bait made from Chex cereal and honey. What we caught were tiny bluegills.

4) Braiding clovers with Grandma Biddison. I remember Grandmpool where I once brought my next-door neighbor/friend, Debbie. In this very same pool, we were required to wear some pretty goofy-looking bathing caps, made out of rubbery plastic, decorated with big, plastic flowers. Being a tomboy, I protested the swimming caps and the fact that I couldn't wear cutoff blue jeans and a T-shirt in the pool. Julie and bluegill

3) Fishing with my Grandpa Biddison. We used bamboo poles with bait made from Chex cereal and honey. What we caught were tiny bluegills.

4) Braiding clovers with Grandma Biddison. I remember Grandma sitting on a lawnchair in the bright sunshine near the lake. She taught me how to braid the clover stems and make a pretty bracelet.

5) The half-acre to 1-acre lot my parents bought. I remember it being sloped, full of weeds and sitting on it, surveying what seemed to be a very big chunk of land.

6) A shady-looking salesman. The man told us (upon a trip to Swan Lake that was NOT our first) that the "big yella earth-movin' machines" would be out there fixing up the place any time now.

I spoke with my oldest brother, Bob, on the phone last night and asked him what he remembered about Swan Lake.

He saima sitting on a lawnchair in the bright sunshine near the lake. She taught me how to braid the clover stems and make a pretty bracelet.

5) The half-acre to 1-acre lot my parents bought. I remember it being sloped, full of weeds and sitting on it, surveying what seemed to be a very big chunk of land.

6) A shady-looking salesman. The man told us (upon a trip to Swan Lake that was NOT our first) that the "big yella earth-movin' machines" would be out there fixing up the place any time now.

I spoke with my oldest brother, Bob, on the phone last night and asked him what he remembered about Swan Lake.

He said he remembered "floating around the lake in an innertube; fishing once or twice; a clubhouse (with a pool) near the entrance of the private subdivision; and Dad floating around on his back in the lake."

My dad answered my questions about Swan Lake within an e-mail. I'll quote much of it here:

"We heard about Swan Lake on the TV. They ran lots of ads on there. There was only a brief spiel from a guy there, pointing out the lodge, swimming pool and the single new home that existed near the far side of that part of the lake. I don't remember the size of the lot we bought. Might have been around an acre. It was on quite a slope by a did he remembered "floating around the lake in an innertube; fishing once or twice; a clubhouse (with a pool) near the entrance of the private subdivision; and Dad floating around on his back in the lake."

My dad answered my questions about Swan Lake within an e-mail. I'll quote much of it here:

"We heard about Swan Lake on the TV. They ran lots of ads on there. There was only a brief spiel from a guy there, pointing out the lodge, swimming pool and the single new home that existed near the far side of that part of the lake. I don't remember the size of the lot we bought. Might have been around an acre. It was on quite a slope by a dirt road. We had planned to build a sort of summer cabin and don't believe there were any restrictions at that time. The place was really in the middle of nowhere with nothing but weeds and trees in sight. There was absolutely no other sign of human life anywhere. We were totally alone.

"After looking over the lot we planned to buy, we nearly got stuck in the muddy road back to the 'lodge.' The guy who was in charge of sales told us that those big yellow machines would soon be on the job to get the roads in shape. That never happened.

"We did go ahead and sign up for the lot, but after a couple of years stopped paying on it and let dirt road. We had planned to build a sort of summer cabin and don't believe there were any restrictions at that time. The place was really in the middle of nowhere with nothing but weeds and trees in sight. There was absolutely no other sign of human life anywhere. We were totally alone.

"We did go ahead and sign up for the lot, but after a couple of years stopped paying on it and let it go.

"You know about our occasional trips out there and how there never was any road improvement and how the swimming pool turned into what looked like a cesspool. There were never any additional homes or cabins built during this period. The place was in its death throes, and we wanted no further part of it.

"I do remember that, when we first went out to investigate the place, we were driving our 1967 Ford, which was quite new. It may have been in '68 though. Since we hung on for a couple of years, it could have been around 1970 when we called it quits. I don't really remember more than that. I just remember the sales guy commenting o it go.

Big brother Bob now lives just miles from Swan Lake. At this writing, he was going to go check it out for me. Apparently, it did develop, and some of the guys he works with live there.

I e-mailed my dad a link to an alleged Web site for the subdivision.

He writes: "Their maps do not show which, if any, lots are sold. Usually such maps have a 'sold' label on those so people would know which lots are still available. Wonder how many houses/cabins are built now after over 30 years have passed?

"The only pleasant memories are of us going there for swimming and fion the car and being surprised that it was a Ford."

Big brother Bob now lives just miles from Swan Lake. At this writing, he was going to go check it out for me. Apparently, it did develop, and some of the guys he works with live there.

I e-mailed my dad a link to an alleged Web site for the subdivision.

"The only pleasant memories are of us going there for swimming and fishing. We have no still pictures of the place, only a little on movies."

"That's about the size of my memories of Swan Lake. Their Web site is about as 'crappy' as their facility was."

I love my dad.

March 12, 2003

Obscure References Confound Whippersnappers

Last week, I managed to live through what I consider to be a pretty big milestone (and many women wouldn't tell you this, but I guess I'm not many women) – my 40th birthday.

Coworkers, family members and friends will tell you I didn't make it through gracefully. Thank God, only a hanishing. We have no still pictures of the place, only a little on movies."

"That's about the size of my memories of Swan Lake. Their Web site is about as 'crappy' as their facility was."

I love my dad.

March 12, 2003

Obscure References Confound Whippersnappers

Last week, I managed to live through what I consider to be a pretty big milestone (and many women wouldn't tell you this, but I guess I'm not many women) – my 40th birthday.

Coworkers, family members and friends will tell you I didn't make it through gracefully. Thank God, only a handful of them realized it was my birthday. The rest of them just thought I was unusually cranky.

My poor sons are learning firsthand how to deal with women riding an emotional rollercoaster. They handle it quite well. Mostly, they just nod in agreement, unless of course, I happen to be talking about how old and fat I am. Then, they're prepared with the ol' "you're not old OR fat" lines.

I've wallowed for two weeks straight, one leading up to my birthday and the other winding down from it, in self pity while waxing nostalgic for days gone by. I think I'm finally coming to a happy medium of living in the here and now (it's unavoidable), bundful of them realized it was my birthday. The rest of them just thought I was unusually cranky.

I've wallowed for two weeks straight, one leading up to my birthday and the other winding down from it, in self pity while waxing nostalgic for days gone by. I think I'm finally coming to a happy medium of living in the here and now (it's unavoidable), but not worrying too much about having to "grow up" or change.

For example, if I want to say "far out" or "groovy," I'm going to go ahead and do it. And, I'm not going to go around calling people "dog" just because it's "in." I'll also continue to wear bellbottoms as the fad comes and goes again.

It does seem, however, that less and less youngsters understand what I'm saying lately.

As we were leaving the house this morning, I looked around the yard. What I saw was a cola can here, a blue discount store bag there, a stack of wet newspapers, some dead azalea bushes by the porch and so on. ut not worrying too much about having to "grow up" or change.

It does seem, however, that less and less youngsters understand what I'm saying lately.

As we were leaving the house this morning, I looked around the yard. What I saw was a cola can here, a blue discount store bag there, a stack of wet newspapers, some dead azalea bushes by the porch and so on. I mentioned to the boys we would be cleaning up the yard come week's end and that people would think it was Fred Sanford's place or something. Huh?

Then, on the way to school, conversation turned to a friend of my 10-year-old's. The friend is suspected of liberating something inexpensive but treasured during a sleep-over. Of course, it's most likely the item got sucked into the bottomless pit of action figures in Nick's room. At any rate, I told him I wasn't so sure about the friend because he reminds me quite a lot of Eddie Haskell. Again, huh?

On another day, I was traveling along, not at a breakneck speed, mind you, but probably too rapidl I mentioned to the boys we would be cleaning up the yard come week's end and that people would think it was Fred Sanford's place or something. Huh?

On another day, I was traveling along, not at a breakneck speed, mind you, but probably too rapidly to go down a given incline. For a split second, the front end of the car felt as if it was airbound, and I muttered something about pulling a "Starsky and Hutch." The boys were baffled once more.

Well, I'm gonna quit here before my memory gets too glossed over and I start sounding like Commander McBragg.

March 5, 2003

Manners Class Made Me What I Am Today

My mother was hoping for Buffy from Family Affair. What she got was more akin to Beverly Cleary's Ramona.

After having two boys, Mom really, really, REALLY wanted a daughtly to go down a given incline. For a split second, the front end of the car felt as if it was airbound, and I muttered something about pulling a "Starsky and Hutch." The boys were baffled once more.

Well, I'm gonna quit here before my memory gets too glossed over and I start sounding like Commander McBragg.

March 5, 2003

Manners Class Made Me What I Am Today

My mother was hoping for Buffy from Family Affair. What she got was more akin to Beverly Cleary's Ramona.

After having two boys, Mom really, really, REALLY wanted a daughter. As the mother of two sons, I can't say I blame her. I'd love to have a little girl for myself too. Mom dreamed of dolling a baby girl up in frilly dresses with lace collars and, later on, having someone to take turns doing nails and giving perms. What a disappointment I must've been.

In an effort to turn me into a proper 4-year-old young lady, my mother sent me to a class called White Gloves and Party Manter. As the mother of two sons, I can't say I blame her. I'd love to have a little girl for myself too. Mom dreamed of dolling a baby girl up in frilly dresses with lace collars and, later on, having someone to take turns doing nails and giving perms. What a disappointment I must've been.

Mom put me in dresses and gave me perms until I was old enough to squirm my way out. Even after I got out of the perms, she still came after me with the brush and two ponytail holders, and my squirming always led to a lopsided hairdo.

In an effort to turn me into a proper 4-year-old young lady, my mother sent me to a class called White Gloves and Party Manners. It was at the Bergner's department store in Peoria, Ill. Bergner's is sort of a northern version of Dillard's. She also signed me up for tap dancing lessons. But that's another column.

Whitenners. It was at the Bergner's department store in Peoria, Ill. Bergner's is sort of a northern version of Dillard's. She also signed me up for tap dancing lessons. But that's another column.

White Gloves & Party Manners -- Shown are the book's cover and an illustration fromChapter V, "Good Grooming Can Be Fun," showing the proper dress for a party.

Girls were expected to attend White Gloves and Party Manners wearing fancy, itchy stiff dresses, lace–trimmed white socks and shiny patent leather shoes. With the class came the hardback book White Gloves and Party Manners by Marjabelle Young and Ann Buchwald, first published in 1965. There was also a paperback workbook that looked, on the outside, like a larger version of the other book. The class, spanning several weeks, cue Gloves & Party Manners -- Shown are the book's cover and an illustration fromChapter V, "Good Grooming Can Be Fun," showing the proper dress for a party.

Girls were expected to attend White Gloves and Party Manners wearing fancy, itchy stiff dresses, lace–trimmed white socks and shiny patent leather shoes. With the class came the hardback book White Gloves and Party Manners by Marjabelle Young and Ann Buchwald, first published in 1965. There was also a paperback workbook that looked, on the outside, like a larger version of the other book. The class, spanning several weeks, culminated in a fashion show and luncheon.

Many people I know (and this may sound like bragging, but it's fact) comment on my well-mannered sons. Teachers especially dig this and have even sent home notes and commented at parent/teacher conferences on their manners. As much as I hated that class and resented my mom's decision to make me attend, I must admit that my sons' fine manners and conduct come directly out of what I remember from White Gloves and Party Manners.

It wasn't long ago I saw my old book. When I received the most recent compliment about my boys, I decided to get it out and take a look. But, alas, it was nowhere to be found. I ulminated in a fashion show and luncheon.

Many people I know (and this may sound like bragging, but it's fact) comment on my well-mannered sons. Teachers especially dig this and have even sent home notes and commented at parent/teacher conferences on their manners. As much as I hated that class and resented my mom's decision to make me attend, I must admit that my sons' fine manners and conduct come directly out of what I remember from White Gloves and Party Manners.

It wasn't long ago I saw my old book. When I received the most recent compliment about my boys, I decided to get it out and take a look. But, alas, it was nowhere to be found. I searched the 'Net, hoping to find a copy to buy. Ends up, the book was reissued in 1988 and is available through a couple of popular sites.

I received my copy yesterday. It's exactly as I remember it, complete with delicate line drawings. Although most would probably call it extremely cheesy, I find that just about everything in the book still applies, and it wouldn't hurt anyone to practice what it preaches.

Some of it is quite humorous when you think about it. For example, Chapter V, "Good Grooming Can Be Fun," includes segments titled "Your Hair," "Your Daily Bath," "Your Teeth," "Your Fingernails searched the 'Net, hoping to find a copy to buy. Ends up, the book was reissued in 1988 and is available through a couple of popular sites.

I received my copy yesterday. It's exactly as I remember it, complete with delicate line drawings. Although most would probably call it extremely cheesy, I find that just about everything in the book still applies, and it wouldn't hurt anyone to practice what it preaches.

Some of it is quite humorous when you think about it. For example, Chapter V, "Good Grooming Can Be Fun," includes segments titled "Your Hair," "Your Daily Bath," "Your Teeth," "Your Fingernails" and "How to be Well Dressed." My personal favorite is in the latter category and it's "You can learn what to wear ... For School ... For Play ... For Parties."

I remember one girl in my kindergarten class – the ONLY one who wore pants to school instead of a dress, skirt or jumper. A part of me really admired her, but the White Gloves and Party Manners me secretly thought she had to be trashy.

Here's what we learned about dressing up:

"For Parties – You need at least two good party dresses, which should be kept for party and Sunday wear. In summer high waisted organdy or organza, eyelet cotts" and "How to be Well Dressed." My personal favorite is in the latter category and it's "You can learn what to wear ... For School ... For Play ... For Parties."

I remember one girl in my kindergarten class – the ONLY one who wore pants to school instead of a dress, skirt or jumper. A part of me really admired her, but the White Gloves and Party Manners me secretly thought she had to be trashy.

Here's what we learned about dressing up:

"For Parties – You need at least two good party dresses, which should be kept for party and Sunday wear. In summer high waisted organdy or organza, eyelet cotton or any of the starchy pastel cottons are fine. In winter, lace-collared velveteen or velvet is elegant. Shiny, satiny fabrics should be avoided even for party wear. ... Your petticoats should be bought one size smaller than your dress size; so they won't hang below your dress. ... Party shoes should be black patent leather in the fall and winter; white in the spring and summer, with flat heels and little straps. No party dress is complete without a hat, white gloves and a purse to match or blend with your party shoes. And in the purse: handkerchief, comb, and a change purse. Jewelry should be limited to a charm bracelet, a birthstone ring, perhaps a fine goton or any of the starchy pastel cottons are fine. In winter, lace-collared velveteen or velvet is elegant. Shiny, satiny fabrics should be avoided even for party wear. ... Your petticoats should be bought one size smaller than your dress size; so they won't hang below your dress. ... Party shoes should be black patent leather in the fall and winter; white in the spring and summer, with flat heels and little straps. No party dress is complete without a hat, white gloves and a purse to match or blend with your party shoes. And in the purse: handkerchief, comb, and a change purse. Jewelry should be limited to a charm bracelet, a birthstone ring, perhaps a fine gold chain necklace with a pearl, locket or cross. But no gaudy or jangly jewelry until you're a teen-ager."

The most practical stuff — the stuff I've taught my boys — includes "Meetings, Greetings and Goodbyes," "The Fine Young Art of Conversation," "Unseen (telephone) Manners" and "Good Table Manners." A sampling from the first chapter, "Good Manners," has a segment called "For Boys Only." I'll wrap up this column with some jewels from that:

Boys are lucky: They have their own rules of politeness. They are very simple, and not too hard to learn.

A boy stands old chain necklace with a pearl, locket or cross. But no gaudy or jangly jewelry until you're a teen-ager."

The most practical stuff — the stuff I've taught my boys — includes "Meetings, Greetings and Goodbyes," "The Fine Young Art of Conversation," "Unseen (telephone) Manners" and "Good Table Manners." A sampling from the first chapter, "Good Manners," has a segment called "For Boys Only." I'll wrap up this column with some jewels from that:

Boys are lucky: They have their own rules of politeness. They are very simple, and not too hard to learn.

A boy stands up promptly whenever a girl, or a woman – or an older man – enters the room or crosses it to talk to him.

A boy opens the door for a woman and then steps back to let her enter the house, the room, or the restaurant first.

A boy seats a woman at the table this way: He stands behind the chair and pulls it out far enough for her to get between it and the table. Then as the woman bends her knees, he pushes the chair gently toward the table so it will be there for her to sit on.

A boy remains standing at the table until a woman or girl is seated. In a group, boys wait for their dinner partners to be seated bef up promptly whenever a girl, or a woman – or an older man – enters the room or crosses it to talk to him.

A boy opens the door for a woman and then steps back to let her enter the house, the room, or the restaurant first.

A boy seats a woman at the table this way: He stands behind the chair and pulls it out far enough for her to get between it and the table. Then as the woman bends her knees, he pushes the chair gently toward the table so it will be there for her to sit on.

A boy remains standing at the table until a woman or girl is seated. In a group, boys wait for their dinner partners to be seated before they sit down. When a girl or woman approaches his table to talk, a boy stands up and remains standing as long as she is there.

A boy gets into a car after a woman or girl – and gets out first.

A boy shakes hands each time he is introduced to a man, a boy or any woman who first offers her hand. A boy develops a firm, brief, handshake all his own – not a bone-crusher nor such a weak one his hand seems injured. A boy always looks at the person whose hand he is shaking. He never looks down, or away from the other person's face.

A boy gives the order to the waiter or waitress, after first asking a girl or a fore they sit down. When a girl or woman approaches his table to talk, a boy stands up and remains standing as long as she is there.

A boy gets into a car after a woman or girl – and gets out first.

A boy shakes hands each time he is introduced to a man, a boy or any woman who first offers her hand. A boy develops a firm, brief, handshake all his own – not a bone-crusher nor such a weak one his hand seems injured. A boy always looks at the person whose hand he is shaking. He never looks down, or away from the other person's face.

A boy gives the order to the waiter or waitress, after first asking a girl or a woman what she would like – just like Dad does when he is there.

A boy carries packages for his mother, or any woman or girl he's walking with.

A boy removes his hat when he is introduced, when he stops to talk on the street and when he enters a house or an apartment building elevator. He keeps his hat on in public buildings and elevators – it takes up less room on his head than held in his hand. He removes his hat when entering all Christian churches.

A boy helps a woman remove her coat in church, the theater or a restaurant. Then he either hangs it up for her or takes it to the checkroom.

A boy woman what she would like – just like Dad does when he is there.

A boy carries packages for his mother, or any woman or girl he's walking with.

A boy removes his hat when he is introduced, when he stops to talk on the street and when he enters a house or an apartment building elevator. He keeps his hat on in public buildings and elevators – it takes up less room on his head than held in his hand. He removes his hat when entering all Christian churches.

A boy helps a woman remove her coat in church, the theater or a restaurant. Then he either hangs it up for her or takes it to the checkroom.

A boy gives up his seat to a woman standing near him on a bus, subway or train.

A boy says "please excuse me" or "I'm sorry" when he passes in front of others – not just, "oops," or worst still, "Look out!"

A boy walks on the curb side of the street when he is with a woman.

Feb. 26, 2003

Transcript From Donny Osmond Interview

I mentioned in this space previously that a phone interview with Donny Osmond was in the works. I wasn't lying.

It happened Feb. 19. Donny called me, and below is the transcript, iy gives up his seat to a woman standing near him on a bus, subway or train.

A boy says "please excuse me" or "I'm sorry" when he passes in front of others – not just, "oops," or worst still, "Look out!"

A boy walks on the curb side of the street when he is with a woman.

Feb. 26, 2003

Transcript From Donny Osmond Interview

I mentioned in this space previously that a phone interview with Donny Osmond was in the works. I wasn't lying.

It happened Feb. 19. Donny called me, and below is the transcript, including the portion before the radio interview begins.

Julie Fidler: Hey!

Donny Osmond: How you doin'?

JF: I'm doin' good. How are you?

DO: Doin' good.

JF: Are you calling from Utah?

DO: I am. Yeah.

JF: Is it beautiful?

DO: It's actually ... let me look outside. I haven't even looked. Oh! It's gorgeous outside today!

JF: Ah. It's yucky here.

DO: Is it?

JF: Yeah.

DO: Where are you right now?

JF: I'm in Batesville, Arkansas.

DO: Oh yincluding the portion before the radio interview begins.

Julie Fidler: Hey!

Donny Osmond: How you doin'?

JF: I'm doin' good. How are you?

DO: Doin' good.

JF: Are you calling from Utah?

DO: I am. Yeah.

JF: Is it beautiful?

DO: It's actually ... let me look outside. I haven't even looked. Oh! It's gorgeous outside today!

JF: Ah. It's yucky here.

DO: Is it?

JF: Yeah.

DO: Where are you right now?

JF: I'm in Batesville, Arkansas.

DO: Oh yeah. You guys have been getting hit hard.

JF: Yeah. Today we're just getting a bunch of rain...

DO: Yeah.

JF: But we've had quite a bit of snow and ice this winter; more than usual.

DO: Well, send some out our way. We're having a drought.

JF: Oh no. That's not good for Utah.

DO: No.

JF: Well, let me tell ya. I'm just a nervous wreck right now.

DO: (laughs loudly) Oh, you don't need to be!

JF: (laughing) Well, thank you. Yeah, I wasn't gonna let anyone else do this because I've been a fan forever...

DOyeah. You guys have been getting hit hard.

JF: Yeah. Today we're just getting a bunch of rain...

DO: Yeah.

JF: But we've had quite a bit of snow and ice this winter; more than usual.

DO: Well, send some out our way. We're having a drought.

JF: Oh no. That's not good for Utah.

DO: No.

JF: Well, let me tell ya. I'm just a nervous wreck right now.

DO: (laughs loudly) Oh, you don't need to be!

JF: (laughing) Well, thank you. Yeah, I wasn't gonna let anyone else do this because I've been a fan forever...

DO: Well, thank you.

JF: Since, like, 1971. I've got all my Tiger Beats.

DO: Do you really? That's cool!

JF: Yeah. And I'm about to turn 40...

DO: OK.

JF: next week, so ...

DO: Welcome to the club!

JF: Ugh. It's better than the alternative – that's what everybody keeps tellin' me.

DO: Yeah.

JF: Well, I guess we need to get on with this 'cause I know you're busy.

DO: Yeah, I've got another one coming up here soon.

JF: OK, then we'll just go ahead.

DO: OK.
O: Well, thank you.

JF: Since, like, 1971. I've got all my Tiger Beats.

DO: Do you really? That's cool!

JF: Yeah. And I'm about to turn 40...

DO: OK.

JF: next week, so ...

DO: Welcome to the club!

JF: Ugh. It's better than the alternative – that's what everybody keeps tellin' me.

DO: Yeah.

JF: Well, I guess we need to get on with this 'cause I know you're busy.

DO: Yeah, I've got another one coming up here soon.

JF: OK, then we'll just go ahead.

DO: OK.

JF: All righty.

JF: Well, I'm here today with Donny Osmond.

DO: Hello Julie!

JF: Hey!

DO: How you doin'?

JF: I'm doin' good.

DO: Good.

JF: You know, you're a really busy guy, and I know that. So, there are several things that I'd like you to tell us about today. But I want to put the most important one first.

DO: OK.

JF: And, that was your appearance on Valentine's Day on Cartoon Network?

DO: Oh, which one was that, because I didn't see it.

JF: It's Valentine's Day Johnny Br
JF: All righty.

JF: Well, I'm here today with Donny Osmond.

DO: Hello Julie!

JF: Hey!

DO: How you doin'?

JF: I'm doin' good.

DO: Good.

JF: You know, you're a really busy guy, and I know that. So, there are several things that I'd like you to tell us about today. But I want to put the most important one first.

DO: OK.

JF: And, that was your appearance on Valentine's Day on Cartoon Network?

DO: Oh, which one was that, because I didn't see it.

JF: It's Valentine's Day Johnny Bravo.

DO: Oh yeah! I did that quite some time ago.

JF: (laughing) Well, I wanted to know what it was like working with Johnny Bravo. My sons wanted me to find that out, first thing.

DO: Well, actually, the way you tape those, you're by yourself, and I do it ... from a different part of the country. And, I just do all my lines and, you know, just try to figure out what Johnny's gonna say (speaking in an Elvis-type voice). And then you just respond to the way you think Johnny's gonna talk.

JF: Oh man! That was great. We especially liked the Christmas one where the plane wrecked and ...

DO: Oh yeah! I did that quite some time ago.

JF: (laughing) Well, I wanted to know what it was like working with Johnny Bravo. My sons wanted me to find that out, first thing.

DO: Well, actually, the way you tape those, you're by yourself, and I do it ... from a different part of the country. And, I just do all my lines and, you know, just try to figure out what Johnny's gonna say (speaking in an Elvis-type voice). And then you just respond to the way you think Johnny's gonna talk.

JF: Oh man! That was great. We especially liked the Christmas one where the plane wrecked and ...

DO: Oh and it's Search for Santa Claus or something like that?

JF: Yeah, and you said something like, "You can hurt me, but you can't hurt my smile." (laughs)

DO: (laughing) Exactly! Did you see the one where I was kinda like Mary Poppins?

JF: YES! (laughing)

DO: And, I was babysitting Johnny Bravo. I took him up to the mountains and I'm playing guitar and I said, "Johnny, I'm gonna teach you how to sing." And Johnny says, (in Johnny Bravo Elvis-type voice) "Yeah, and I'm gonna teach you how to shut up!"

(

DO: Oh and it's Search for Santa Claus or something like that?

JF: Yeah, and you said something like, "You can hurt me, but you can't hurt my smile." (laughs)

DO: (laughing) Exactly! Did you see the one where I was kinda like Mary Poppins?

JF: YES! (laughing)

DO: And, I was babysitting Johnny Bravo. I took him up to the mountains and I'm playing guitar and I said, "Johnny, I'm gonna teach you how to sing." And Johnny says, (in Johnny Bravo Elvis-type voice) "Yeah, and I'm gonna teach you how to shut up!"

(Both laughing)

JF: That was good. We liked when you went off with the umbrella and ...

JF & DO (in unison): got hit by lightning.

JF: Well, anyway. What I really wanted to talk about was your new CD, "Somewhere in Time."

DO: Yeah.

JF: We've been giving away some autographed copies here on Sky 99.5 to some lucky listeners.

DO: Uh-huh.

JF: And I wondered if you could tell us a bit about the CD?

DO: Well, I've always wanted to do a concept like this where you take some of your favorite songs of the past. And, I start(Both laughing)

JF: That was good. We liked when you went off with the umbrella and ...

JF & DO (in unison): got hit by lightning.

JF: Well, anyway. What I really wanted to talk about was your new CD, "Somewhere in Time."

DO: Yeah.

JF: We've been giving away some autographed copies here on Sky 99.5 to some lucky listeners.

DO: Uh-huh.

JF: And I wondered if you could tell us a bit about the CD?

DO: Well, I've always wanted to do a concept like this where you take some of your favorite songs of the past. And, I started out with about 150 songs on the list and start crossing them off. That was a difficult thing to do because they're on the list because you love 'em! And, apparently it was the right concept to go with, because over in England, it went gold in one day and platinum in eight days. My producers Gary Barlow from the band Take That, remember that band? Take That?

JF: Oh yeah.

DO: And Elliott Kennedy, they loved the concept and they wanted go for it immediately. The first song I wanted to put on there was (sings) "I'm Not in Love" by 10CC, and that's a tough song to do because it's such a classic the way it was recoted out with about 150 songs on the list and start crossing them off. That was a difficult thing to do because they're on the list because you love 'em! And, apparently it was the right concept to go with, because over in England, it went gold in one day and platinum in eight days. My producers Gary Barlow from the band Take That, remember that band? Take That?

JF: Oh yeah.

DO: And Elliott Kennedy, they loved the concept and they wanted go for it immediately. The first song I wanted to put on there was (sings) "I'm Not in Love" by 10CC, and that's a tough song to do because it's such a classic the way it was recorded, you don't want to go too far from it, but you gotta make it your own. And, so it was a nice challenge to try to do.

JF: I love it. I think it turned out really well.

DO: Thank you.

JF: Now, they love you in the UK, obviously ...

DO: It's pretty crazy over there right now.

JF: Oh yeah. It's kinda like the old Osmond-mania, isn't it?

DO: Yeah, yeah!

JF: You're about to head off over there to promote the CD, right?

DO: Right.

JF: And you've also got the game show Pyramid.

DO: I'm having so much fun wiorded, you don't want to go too far from it, but you gotta make it your own. And, so it was a nice challenge to try to do.

JF: I love it. I think it turned out really well.

DO: Thank you.

JF: Now, they love you in the UK, obviously ...

DO: It's pretty crazy over there right now.

JF: Oh yeah. It's kinda like the old Osmond-mania, isn't it?

DO: Yeah, yeah!

JF: You're about to head off over there to promote the CD, right?

DO: Right.

JF: And you've also got the game show Pyramid.

DO: I'm having so much fun with that.

JF: How do you find time to do all that?

DO: Well, Pyramid is a dream job because I work two days a week. I do 12 shows in two days, and I give thousands of dollars of somebody else's money away (laughing). You know? It's a great job, and that's the reason why I accepted it. Because I'd be able to continue my music and other things.

JF: So, that's ideal. You gonna keep it up for awhile, you think?

DO: Oh yeah. I signed a 5-year deal with the show, and Sony is so happy with what's happening with the show because the ratings are just phenomenally high. So, I'm very, very fortunatith that.

JF: How do you find time to do all that?

DO: Well, Pyramid is a dream job because I work two days a week. I do 12 shows in two days, and I give thousands of dollars of somebody else's money away (laughing). You know? It's a great job, and that's the reason why I accepted it. Because I'd be able to continue my music and other things.

JF: So, that's ideal. You gonna keep it up for awhile, you think?

DO: Oh yeah. I signed a 5-year deal with the show, and Sony is so happy with what's happening with the show because the ratings are just phenomenally high. So, I'm very, very fortunate.

JF: You had one of my favorites on there the other day, Dave Koz.

DO: Oh, Dave's a great sax player. As a matter of fact, he's on this new record, "Somewhere in Time."

JF: Oh yeah?

DO: Yeah.

JF: Do you recall ...

DO: He plays on (sings) "Look into my eyes. Can't you see they're open wide? Would I lie to ya baby?" Remember that song?

JF: Oh baby. Yeah.

DO: Yeah. He's on that one.

JF: You can sing to me anytime!

DO: (laughs)

JF: Well, we're in Batesville,te.

JF: You had one of my favorites on there the other day, Dave Koz.

DO: Oh, Dave's a great sax player. As a matter of fact, he's on this new record, "Somewhere in Time."

JF: Oh yeah?

DO: Yeah.

JF: Do you recall ...

DO: He plays on (sings) "Look into my eyes. Can't you see they're open wide? Would I lie to ya baby?" Remember that song?

JF: Oh baby. Yeah.

DO: Yeah. He's on that one.

JF: You can sing to me anytime!

DO: (laughs)

JF: Well, we're in Batesville, Arkansas ...

DO: Uh huh.

JF: We're just a few hours' drive from Branson, Missouri.

DO: Oh, OK!

JF: Where your brothers are.

DO: Yeah.

JF: Do you ever get a chance to visit them there or join them on stage?

DO: Every once in awhile I'll show up to support them and go see the show, and just have a little time off, and they'll get me up on stage once in awhile.

JF: Will you call me the next time you do that?

DO: Yeah, sure. No problem.

JF: OK, cool.

(both laugh)

JF: How's your , Arkansas ...

DO: Uh huh.

JF: We're just a few hours' drive from Branson, Missouri.

DO: Oh, OK!

JF: Where your brothers are.

DO: Yeah.

JF: Do you ever get a chance to visit them there or join them on stage?

DO: Every once in awhile I'll show up to support them and go see the show, and just have a little time off, and they'll get me up on stage once in awhile.

JF: Will you call me the next time you do that?

DO: Yeah, sure. No problem.

JF: OK, cool.

(both laugh)

JF: How's your mom doin'?

DO: She's actually hangin' in there. A lot of people have heard that my mother had a stroke about a year ago, and she's been in the hospital ever since. It's really hard on the family right now. But she's a strong woman. She's hangin' in there.

JF: She's amazing. With nine kids.

DO: Right.

JF: I have two boys, and that's plenty.

DO: Yup.

JF: Now, you have several. Five?

DO: We have five boys, and our second son got married in November. Our oldest son gets married this summer. So, they're movin' on.

JF: Well, I was gonna ask you mom doin'?

DO: She's actually hangin' in there. A lot of people have heard that my mother had a stroke about a year ago, and she's been in the hospital ever since. It's really hard on the family right now. But she's a strong woman. She's hangin' in there.

JF: She's amazing. With nine kids.

DO: Right.

JF: I have two boys, and that's plenty.

DO: Yup.

JF: Now, you have several. Five?

DO: We have five boys, and our second son got married in November. Our oldest son gets married this summer. So, they're movin' on.

JF: Well, I was gonna ask you about that. So, you realize you could be a grandpa...

DO: I know, I know! Don't say that too loudly yet. (laughs)

JF: What do you think of that?

DO: Actually, I'm lookin' forward to it, in all seriousness. I can hardly wait.

JF: Now, there's been a commercial on TV that we can't escape lately with Ozzy Osbourne.

DO: Oh yeah.

JF: What are your thoughts on that commercial?

DO: Well, the funniest thing that people didn't see happened when the cameras weren't rolling. Nobody told him what Marie and I were gonna do. We show up in his kitchen with thu about that. So, you realize you could be a grandpa...

DO: I know, I know! Don't say that too loudly yet. (laughs)

JF: What do you think of that?

DO: Actually, I'm lookin' forward to it, in all seriousness. I can hardly wait.

JF: Now, there's been a commercial on TV that we can't escape lately with Ozzy Osbourne.

DO: Oh yeah.

JF: What are your thoughts on that commercial?

DO: Well, the funniest thing that people didn't see happened when the cameras weren't rolling. Nobody told him what Marie and I were gonna do. We show up in his kitchen with these horrible '70s outfits that we used to wear.

JF: They're awful.

DO: And we start singing (sings) "I'm a little bit country. I'm a ..." and the reaction that Ozzy gave was legit. So, the director said, "Cut! One more time, please." And Ozzy steps up to me and he said, (with British accent) "That is soooo gay!"

(both laughing loudly)

DO: And I said, "Well, you don't have to wear this stuff, you know!" So, it was a lot of fun.

JF: Oh, man. It's a real contrast: Osmonds and Osbournes.

DO: Oh, I know. And I knew it wahese horrible '70s outfits that we used to wear.

JF: They're awful.

DO: And we start singing (sings) "I'm a little bit country. I'm a ..." and the reaction that Ozzy gave was legit. So, the director said, "Cut! One more time, please." And Ozzy steps up to me and he said, (with British accent) "That is soooo gay!"

(both laughing loudly)

DO: And I said, "Well, you don't have to wear this stuff, you know!" So, it was a lot of fun.

JF: Oh, man. It's a real contrast: Osmonds and Osbournes.

DO: Oh, I know. And I knew it was inevitably gonna happen because, either a Saturday Night Live sketch or something was gonna happen. But this was perfect.

JF: Uh-huh. It's better to just do it yourself, huh, than let Saturday Night Live do it?

DO: Yeah.

JF: Well, I have one more thing. I think I said that I'm about to hit 40 here, the big four-oh; and I wondered, and you can just tell me "No way, baby," if, you know, you don't wanna do it, but ... is there anyway I could convince ...

DO: No way, baby! (laughs)

JF: Oh man! I haven't even asked you yet, Donny!

DO: Go aheaas inevitably gonna happen because, either a Saturday Night Live sketch or something was gonna happen. But this was perfect.

JF: Uh-huh. It's better to just do it yourself, huh, than let Saturday Night Live do it?

DO: Yeah.

JF: Well, I have one more thing. I think I said that I'm about to hit 40 here, the big four-oh; and I wondered, and you can just tell me "No way, baby," if, you know, you don't wanna do it, but ... is there anyway I could convince ...

DO: No way, baby! (laughs)

JF: Oh man! I haven't even asked you yet, Donny!

DO: Go ahead.

JF: Just a little bit of "Puppy Love"?

DO: Oh, sure. (pause)

JF: Cool.

DO: When?

JF: Now.

DO: Oh. Now?

JF: Yeah.

DO: (sings) And they called it puppy love. Oh I guess they'll never know - any more? Is that all?

JF: That's fine! That's just dreamy.

DO: OK, cool.

JF: I love it. Well, thank you for ...

DO: Pleasure to talk to you. All righty. Have a good day!

JF: You too.

DO: See ya.

JF: Just a little bit of "Puppy Love"?

DO: Oh, sure. (pause)

JF: Cool.

DO: When?

JF: Now.

DO: Oh. Now?

JF: Yeah.

DO: (sings) And they called it puppy love. Oh I guess they'll never know - any more? Is that all?

JF: That's fine! That's just dreamy.

DO: OK, cool.

JF: I love it. Well, thank you for ...

DO: Pleasure to talk to you. All righty. Have a good day!

JF: You too.

DO: See ya.

Feb. 19, 2003

Rockin' Nun Hit Big Time in 1974

Sometimes I do the wrong thing and stay up past bedtime on a school night. I guess I lose track of time while in my wayback machine.

Thanks to a Napster replacement on the Internet, I waste a lot of valuable time downloading and listening to songs I haven't heard in decades. Many times, one song leads to another, and before I know it, it's midnight or worse.

Last night, I was downloading songs by some of my favorite female singers from the 1970s and early '80s. Somewhere in my noggin, bouncing around with Helen Reddy, Karen Carpenter, Joan Jett, Pat Benatar and DebFeb. 19, 2003

Rockin' Nun Hit Big Time in 1974

Sometimes I do the wrong thing and stay up past bedtime on a school night. I guess I lose track of time while in my wayback machine.

Thanks to a Napster replacement on the Internet, I waste a lot of valuable time downloading and listening to songs I haven't heard in decades. Many times, one song leads to another, and before I know it, it's midnight or worse.

Last night, I was downloading songs by some of my favorite female singers from the 1970s and early '80s. Somewhere in my noggin, bouncing around with Helen Reddy, Karen Carpenter, Joan Jett, Pat Benatar and Deborah Harry, "The Lord's Prayer" popped in. I remembered a woman with a really distinctive voice sang the rock version of the prayer back in the early '70s, but I couldn't think of who it was.

The Internet is a wondrous thing. With the aid of a search engine, such as Google or Yahoo!, one can type in a few words about a subject, and BAM! You get links to 8 zillion Web sites that mention said subject. When I typed in the words "Lord's Prayer, 1970s," I found Sister Janet Mead.

I had forgotten that it was a real live nun who sang "The Lord's Prayer." When I was 10 or 11 years old, the song was like a gospel Schoolhouborah Harry, "The Lord's Prayer" popped in. I remembered a woman with a really distinctive voice sang the rock version of the prayer back in the early '70s, but I couldn't think of who it was.

The Internet is a wondrous thing. With the aid of a search engine, such as Google or Yahoo!, one can type in a few words about a subject, and BAM! You get links to 8 zillion Web sites that mention said subject. When I typed in the words "Lord's Prayer, 1970s," I found Sister Janet Mead.

I had forgotten that it was a real live nun who sang "The Lord's Prayer." When I was 10 or 11 years old, the song was like a gospel Schoolhouse Rock for my clan. How did we all learn the preamble to the Constitution? Schoolhouse Rock, of course! How did we learn "The Lord's Prayer"? Why, with the help of none other than Sister Janet.

Here's some of what I found out about her.

Sister Janet Mead is a native of Adelaide, Australia, born in 1938. She showed a keen interest in mixing rock music and her faith at an early age and formed a group called The Rock Band when she was 17 to provide music for the weekly mass at the local cathedral. Janet had studied piano at Adelaide Conservatorium and, when she joined the Sisters of Mercy order, she became a music teacher ause Rock for my clan. How did we all learn the preamble to the Constitution? Schoolhouse Rock, of course! How did we learn "The Lord's Prayer"? Why, with the help of none other than Sister Janet.

Here's some of what I found out about her.

Sister Janet Mead is a native of Adelaide, Australia, born in 1938. She showed a keen interest in mixing rock music and her faith at an early age and formed a group called The Rock Band when she was 17 to provide music for the weekly mass at the local cathedral. Janet had studied piano at Adelaide Conservatorium and, when she joined the Sisters of Mercy order, she became a music teacher at two local Catholic schools.

She began to explore the "rock mass" concept in the early '70s, wishing to make the Catholic Mass more interesting and accessible for students at the schools where she taught. This led to a successful series of "rock massses" she conducted at Adelaide Cathedral.

In 1973, Janet began making professional recordings of her music for churches and schools. That year in Sydney, she recorded a cover of the Donovan song "Brother Sun, Sister Moon," and as an afterthought, she cut a rock arrangement of "The Lord's Prayer," which had been put to music by one of her parishioners and musicaat two local Catholic schools.

She began to explore the "rock mass" concept in the early '70s, wishing to make the Catholic Mass more interesting and accessible for students at the schools where she taught. This led to a successful series of "rock massses" she conducted at Adelaide Cathedral.

In 1973, Janet began making professional recordings of her music for churches and schools. That year in Sydney, she recorded a cover of the Donovan song "Brother Sun, Sister Moon," and as an afterthought, she cut a rock arrangement of "The Lord's Prayer," which had been put to music by one of her parishioners and musical collaborators, Arnold Strals.

The record label released the two songs as a single. Australian DJs picked it up, but they flipped the single and started playing the B-side, "The Lord's Prayer." It became so popular that A&M Records took it up and distributed it to over 30 countries. The record went on to sell two million copies worldwide, and in April 1974, Sister Janet earned the distinction of being the first Australian recording artist to sell over one million copies of an Australian-produced record in the U.S. The single reached No. 4 in the States.

Sister Janet was even nominated for a Grammy Award in the category "Beal collaborators, Arnold Strals.

The record label released the two songs as a single. Australian DJs picked it up, but they flipped the single and started playing the B-side, "The Lord's Prayer." It became so popular that A&M Records took it up and distributed it to over 30 countries. The record went on to sell two million copies worldwide, and in April 1974, Sister Janet earned the distinction of being the first Australian recording artist to sell over one million copies of an Australian-produced record in the U.S. The single reached No. 4 in the States.

Sister Janet was even nominated for a Grammy Award in the category "Best Inspirational Performance," but was beaten out by Elvis Presley's version of "How Great Thou Art."

Sister Janet donated all her royalties to charity. According to the Internet site, Miles Ago, the humble and media-shy nun resisted the call to continue her pop career, despite intense media interest. In fact, worldwide success apparently brought a pressure that led her to question her faith. She withdrew from the public eye in 1975. However, Sister Janet did not abandon her love of music and performance, and she has returned to the arts in recent years. She reportedly left Sisters of Mercy and moved to Melbourne, but continued her sest Inspirational Performance," but was beaten out by Elvis Presley's version of "How Great Thou Art."

Sister Janet donated all her royalties to charity. According to the Internet site, Miles Ago, the humble and media-shy nun resisted the call to continue her pop career, despite intense media interest. In fact, worldwide success apparently brought a pressure that led her to question her faith. She withdrew from the public eye in 1975. However, Sister Janet did not abandon her love of music and performance, and she has returned to the arts in recent years. She reportedly left Sisters of Mercy and moved to Melbourne, but continued her social work. In October 2001, Sister Janet directed a production of Victor Hugo's Les Miserables in Melbourne.

OK, class, that's the history/pop lesson for today. Which leads me back to the Internet to download 1972's Sister Mary Elephant by Cheech and Chong. Class!

Feb. 12, 2003

Confessions of a Gong Show Fan

I confess. I'm a Gong Show fan. And not even a closet one. Always been one.

From the time the Gong Show premiered in 1976 until it met its syndicated demise in 1980, I watched every episode I could. I don't allude to having good tasocial work. In October 2001, Sister Janet directed a production of Victor Hugo's Les Miserables in Melbourne.

OK, class, that's the history/pop lesson for today. Which leads me back to the Internet to download 1972's Sister Mary Elephant by Cheech and Chong. Class!

Feb. 12, 2003

Confessions of a Gong Show Fan

I confess. I'm a Gong Show fan. And not even a closet one. Always been one.

From the time the Gong Show premiered in 1976 until it met its syndicated demise in 1980, I watched every episode I could. I don't allude to having good taste, and I don't honestly think Chuck Barris brought about the total degradation of television as some have accused him. I don't believe that actually happened until we imported Teletubbies.

What brings up this subject is the current movie, Confessions of a Dangerous Mind, based on what Barris calls his "unauthorized autobiography." I anxiously awaited the film because, (1) I am a Gong Show fan and (2) George Clooney is in it with a '70s-style mustache. Mom always said, "Julie likes boys who have hair and a mustache." (Mom calls grown men boys.)

Clooney not only is IN the movie, but he directed it. aste, and I don't honestly think Chuck Barris brought about the total degradation of television as some have accused him. I don't believe that actually happened until we imported Teletubbies.

What brings up this subject is the current movie, Confessions of a Dangerous Mind, based on what Barris calls his "unauthorized autobiography." I anxiously awaited the film because, (1) I am a Gong Show fan and (2) George Clooney is in it with a '70s-style mustache. Mom always said, "Julie likes boys who have hair and a mustache." (Mom calls grown men boys.)

Clooney not only is IN the movie, but he directed it. It's his first as a director. And, I was impressed.

Somehow, though, I was expecting a more light-hearted romp. I didn't read Barris' book in which he claimed to be a CIA hit man, and I don't really imagine it's too upbeat. I just didn't see how anything based on the Gong Show host wouldn't be funny. I was also hoping to see more about the show itself. I guess I'll have to settle for the E! True Hollywood Story.

Now that I'm almost four gosh-darn decades old, I don't mind to confess that I always thought Chuck Barris was cute -- not in a Michael J. Fox sort of way, but in a chimp-like way. I loved the different hats he pulled do It's his first as a director. And, I was impressed.

Somehow, though, I was expecting a more light-hearted romp. I didn't read Barris' book in which he claimed to be a CIA hit man, and I don't really imagine it's too upbeat. I just didn't see how anything based on the Gong Show host wouldn't be funny. I was also hoping to see more about the show itself. I guess I'll have to settle for the E! True Hollywood Story.

Now that I'm almost four gosh-darn decades old, I don't mind to confess that I always thought Chuck Barris was cute -- not in a Michael J. Fox sort of way, but in a chimp-like way. I loved the different hats he pulled down over this eyes, the way he left half of his tuxedo shirt tail hanging out of his old, worn out blue jeans, and especially the way he'd clap his hands together and, while pointing at the camera with both index fingers, say "We'll be right back with more STUFF!"

Even though the hats made him perhaps a bit mysterious, I wouldn't picture him rubbing out communists in a foreign land.

Barris also created The Dating Game and The Newlywed Game. Those shows were OK I guess, but it was The Gong Show that was really amusing. A lot of the people who had the gall to perform on The Gong Show would make American Idol
Even though the hats made him perhaps a bit mysterious, I wouldn't picture him rubbing out communists in a foreign land.

Barris also created The Dating Game and The Newlywed Game. Those shows were OK I guess, but it was The Gong Show that was really amusing. A lot of the people who had the gall to perform on The Gong Show would make American Idol rejects look ultra-talented.

The celebrity judges, such as Jamie Farr, Jaye P. Morgan, Steve Martin and Arte Johnson, always had something tacky to say about the contestants. Sometimes all three judges would gong a contestant at once, causing Chucky Baby to throw his arm around the shocked contestant and say, "Awww (insert contestant's name here), I don't know why they did that to you. I thought you were fantastic! Judges, why did you gang gong this nice man/lady?" That makes me laugh out loud, just thinking about it.

Perhaps America is taking itself a bit too seriously with shows like American Idol and Star Search rejects look ultra-talented.

The celebrity judges, such as Jamie Farr, Jaye P. Morgan, Steve Martin and Arte Johnson, always had something tacky to say about the contestants. Sometimes all three judges would gong a contestant at once, causing Chucky Baby to throw his arm around the shocked contestant and say, "Awww (insert contestant's name here), I don't know why they did that to you. I thought you were fantastic! Judges, why did you gang gong this nice man/lady?" That makes me laugh out loud, just thinking about it.

Perhaps America is taking itself a bit too seriously with shows like American Idol and Star Search. With contestants on today's versions of The Gong Show, I get the feeling we're not supposed to laugh or poke fun at the contestants, rather, we feel sorry for them. I say, give Simon Cowell, Paula Abdul and Randy Jackson each a mallet and bring out the gong. And, let's gong Joe Millionaire and the Bachelorette while we're at it.

Jan. 22, 2003

Brothers Gibb More Than Just Disco

No more Bee Gees. That's all I can think of at this writing. It's something Beatles fans have been living with since Mark David Chapman did the unthinkable in December of 1980.
<>. With contestants on today's versions of The Gong Show, I get the feeling we're not supposed to laugh or poke fun at the contestants, rather, we feel sorry for them. I say, give Simon Cowell, Paula Abdul and Randy Jackson each a mallet and bring out the gong. And, let's gong Joe Millionaire and the Bachelorette while we're at it.

Jan. 22, 2003

Brothers Gibb More Than Just Disco

No more Bee Gees. That's all I can think of at this writing. It's something Beatles fans have been living with since Mark David Chapman did the unthinkable in December of 1980.

Maurice Gibb, one of the three Brothers Gibb who made up the Bee Gees, died Jan. 12 in a Miami Beach, Fla., hospital. He had gone into cardiac arrest before undergoing surgery for intestinal blockage. He was 53.

Maurice, Robin and Barry comprised the Bee Gees. Maurice and Robin were twins. Maurice (pronounced Morris) was bassist and keyboardist for the group in addition to vocalist.

At this writing the family is raising suspicions about the care Maurice received at the hospital following the abdominal surgery where he had been admitted four days prior to undergoing the emergency surgery to remove the blockage. He suffered a heart attack before
Maurice Gibb, one of the three Brothers Gibb who made up the Bee Gees, died Jan. 12 in a Miami Beach, Fla., hospital. He had gone into cardiac arrest before undergoing surgery for intestinal blockage. He was 53.

Maurice, Robin and Barry comprised the Bee Gees. Maurice and Robin were twins. Maurice (pronounced Morris) was bassist and keyboardist for the group in addition to vocalist.

At this writing the family is raising suspicions about the care Maurice received at the hospital following the abdominal surgery where he had been admitted four days prior to undergoing the emergency surgery to remove the blockage. He suffered a heart attack before the surgery.

Barry told the BBC his brother's treatment was "very questionable" and promised that his family "will pursue every factor, every element, every second of the timeline of the final hours of Maurice's life. ... That will be our quest from now on."

Barry and Robin already lost youngest brother, Andy Gibb, at age 30 in 1988. Andy died from a heart infection.

Just earlier this month (Jan. 2), the Bee Gees were among those on Queen Elizabeth's New Year Honors List in Great Britain for nearly four decades of recording. The three brothers were each presented the Commander of the Order of the British Empire hono the surgery.

Barry told the BBC his brother's treatment was "very questionable" and promised that his family "will pursue every factor, every element, every second of the timeline of the final hours of Maurice's life. ... That will be our quest from now on."

Barry and Robin already lost youngest brother, Andy Gibb, at age 30 in 1988. Andy died from a heart infection.

Just earlier this month (Jan. 2), the Bee Gees were among those on Queen Elizabeth's New Year Honors List in Great Britain for nearly four decades of recording. The three brothers were each presented the Commander of the Order of the British Empire honor and were among the British citizens receiving citations, including knighthoods, from the queen.

When someone mentions the Bee Gees, people usually think "disco." Or, as happens when I mention any other group I liked in the '70s, people outright snicker and poke fun at me for being such a freak. That's OK. I've gotten used to it. Yeah, I have said previously that I enjoyed the Bee Gees' version of Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band more than the Beatles'. Keep in mind I was listening to The Monkees and Sonny and Cher when the Beatles were doing it. It was my teen years when the Bee Gees came out with it. I was in my primeor and were among the British citizens receiving citations, including knighthoods, from the queen.

When someone mentions the Bee Gees, people usually think "disco." Or, as happens when I mention any other group I liked in the '70s, people outright snicker and poke fun at me for being such a freak. That's OK. I've gotten used to it. Yeah, I have said previously that I enjoyed the Bee Gees' version of Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band more than the Beatles'. Keep in mind I was listening to The Monkees and Sonny and Cher when the Beatles were doing it. It was my teen years when the Bee Gees came out with it. I was in my prime.

Believe it or not, the Bee Gees were much more than a "disco band." My admiration of them went back before that time to the late '60s and early '70s. Although I will admit to liking every single one of the Bee Gees' disco-related tunes, I like even better such songs as: "New York Mining Disaster," "To Love Somebody," "Holiday," "Massachusetts," "Words," "I've Gotta Get a Message to You," "I Started a Joke," "First of May," "Lonely Days" and "How Can You Mend a Broken Heart," all released as singles between 1967 and 1971, way be.

Believe it or not, the Bee Gees were much more than a "disco band." My admiration of them went back before that time to the late '60s and early '70s. Although I will admit to liking every single one of the Bee Gees' disco-related tunes, I like even better such songs as: "New York Mining Disaster," "To Love Somebody," "Holiday," "Massachusetts," "Words," "I've Gotta Get a Message to You," "I Started a Joke," "First of May," "Lonely Days" and "How Can You Mend a Broken Heart," all released as singles between 1967 and 1971, way before disco.

I have several Bee Gees albums and CDs dating from the early days to their most recent, This is Where I Came In.

Probably my favorite album that I own, though, and the one that is probably the most worn out, is Children of the World, released in 1976. It features "You Should Be Dancing," "Love So Right," "Can't Keep a Good Man Down," and my favorite, "Boogie Child." I used to put that album on when it was time to clean my room. It got me moving, that's for sure.

The Bee Gees will go down in music history for their work on the late '70s movie Saturday Night Fever,before disco.

I have several Bee Gees albums and CDs dating from the early days to their most recent, This is Where I Came In.

Probably my favorite album that I own, though, and the one that is probably the most worn out, is Children of the World, released in 1976. It features "You Should Be Dancing," "Love So Right," "Can't Keep a Good Man Down," and my favorite, "Boogie Child." I used to put that album on when it was time to clean my room. It got me moving, that's for sure.

The Bee Gees will go down in music history for their work on the late '70s movie Saturday Night Fever, starring John Travolta, of course. God, I miss those days. People really danced then. Guys dressed sharp and didn't wear their jeans baggy or half-way down their butts with their undies hangin' out. Yup, those were the days.

Well, Barry and Robin have said they will continue to perform to keep Maurice's memory alive, as they have with Andy's. I regret I never got to see them in concert before this most recent and personal loss.

* * *

For those of you who read last week's column: The third shoe dropped. Microwave oven. :(

Jan. 15, 2003
, starring John Travolta, of course. God, I miss those days. People really danced then. Guys dressed sharp and didn't wear their jeans baggy or half-way down their butts with their undies hangin' out. Yup, those were the days.

Well, Barry and Robin have said they will continue to perform to keep Maurice's memory alive, as they have with Andy's. I regret I never got to see them in concert before this most recent and personal loss.

* * *

For those of you who read last week's column: The third shoe dropped. Microwave oven. :(

Jan. 15, 2003

Waiting For the Third Shoe to Drop

I'm waiting for the third shoe to drop. I'm cautiously optimistic it won't, but I'm getting mentally prepared for it.

My mom, and I'm sure others, always said bad things come in threes. I've found that to be true over time.

A couple three months ago I threw a load of clothes into the washing machine, turned it on and headed off to work. When I returned home and opened the lid, expecting to take the wet clothes out of there and pop them into the dryer, I had a surprise waiting for me. The machine was filled with water, and
Waiting For the Third Shoe to Drop

I'm waiting for the third shoe to drop. I'm cautiously optimistic it won't, but I'm getting mentally prepared for it.

My mom, and I'm sure others, always said bad things come in threes. I've found that to be true over time.

A couple three months ago I threw a load of clothes into the washing machine, turned it on and headed off to work. When I returned home and opened the lid, expecting to take the wet clothes out of there and pop them into the dryer, I had a surprise waiting for me. The machine was filled with water, and the towels and undies floated helplessly.

I messed with the knob on the washer and set it on rinse or spin or some other such thing, but the machine just clicked and groaned and thumbed its nose at me. The boys and I spent the following 10 Sunday afternoons in a row at a local laundromat.

When I finally called an appliance guy, he was honest and told me it would probably cost more to repair the 15-year-old machine than buy a new, more reliable one.

My father always tells me I should try to set aside some money now and then for just such emergencies. I always tell Dad it's difficult to set aside money when I'm finding it hard to pay the bil the towels and undies floated helplessly.

I messed with the knob on the washer and set it on rinse or spin or some other such thing, but the machine just clicked and groaned and thumbed its nose at me. The boys and I spent the following 10 Sunday afternoons in a row at a local laundromat.

When I finally called an appliance guy, he was honest and told me it would probably cost more to repair the 15-year-old machine than buy a new, more reliable one.

My father always tells me I should try to set aside some money now and then for just such emergencies. I always tell Dad it's difficult to set aside money when I'm finding it hard to pay the bills, and the boys go through seven gallons of milk a week and outgrow their jeans and shoes every month.

Dad was good enough to float me a loan until I (hopefully) get my federal tax return and can pay him back for the new washer we are now enjoying.

Shoe number two: One week after we got the new washing machine, a Centerpoint Energy (Arkla) contractor broke a 6-inch natural gas line in our neighborhood. It wouldn't have been so bad to be without heat for the night if it weren't for what the gas company guys found when they tried to turn it back on the next day.

My furnace is underneath my house. This has always been a problem. Who puts a flls, and the boys go through seven gallons of milk a week and outgrow their jeans and shoes every month.

Dad was good enough to float me a loan until I (hopefully) get my federal tax return and can pay him back for the new washer we are now enjoying.

Shoe number two: One week after we got the new washing machine, a Centerpoint Energy (Arkla) contractor broke a 6-inch natural gas line in our neighborhood. It wouldn't have been so bad to be without heat for the night if it weren't for what the gas company guys found when they tried to turn it back on the next day.

My furnace is underneath my house. This has always been a problem. Who puts a furnace under a house where you have to crawl through all the muck and spiders to light the pilot light or work on the thing? Growing up in the land of cornfields and basements, I'd never heard of this, but I'm learning it's not that uncommon in these parts.

So, the gas company guys got on their coveralls and crawled under the house to light the pilot light. They'd already come into the house and lit the water heater and my oven (which they called a "cook stove" and informed me is all gunked up and nearly unusable). The fella who came out from under the house told me he couldn't light the pilot light, and he had disconnected the furnace to bootfurnace under a house where you have to crawl through all the muck and spiders to light the pilot light or work on the thing? Growing up in the land of cornfields and basements, I'd never heard of this, but I'm learning it's not that uncommon in these parts.

So, the gas company guys got on their coveralls and crawled under the house to light the pilot light. They'd already come into the house and lit the water heater and my oven (which they called a "cook stove" and informed me is all gunked up and nearly unusable). The fella who came out from under the house told me he couldn't light the pilot light, and he had disconnected the furnace to boot. He said the furnace was not vented, that the exhaust was just coming out of a pipe and blowing out under my house. He seemed surprised my sons and I are not dead yet, either from carbon monoxide poisoning or fire. He told me to call a heating and air guy and get the thing vented to the outdoors.

My first thought: How much is this going to cost?

It was already late in the day, the sun was about to go down soon, and I knew we'd go another night without heat. Luckily, the heating and air service I called responded immediately and evaluated the situation.

Ends up, whoever built the house back in 1980 had installed the flue thingy to vent. He said the furnace was not vented, that the exhaust was just coming out of a pipe and blowing out under my house. He seemed surprised my sons and I are not dead yet, either from carbon monoxide poisoning or fire. He told me to call a heating and air guy and get the thing vented to the outdoors.

My first thought: How much is this going to cost?

It was already late in the day, the sun was about to go down soon, and I knew we'd go another night without heat. Luckily, the heating and air service I called responded immediately and evaluated the situation.

Ends up, whoever built the house back in 1980 had installed the flue thingy to vent the furnace. A board had been nailed over the opening of it under the house, and it was never hooked to the furnace. The heating guy told me all it would take was about 10 feet of pipe and a couple of elbows. He was back the next morning and had it fixed in no time for half the cost of the new washer (a subsequent loan from Dad).

We've lived in that house for 12 years and are pretty lucky I guess. It's good this was brought to our attention.

If you'd like to learn more about carbon monoxide poisoning, and everyone should, go to the Environmental Protection Agency's Web site at www.epa.gov and search for "carbon monoxide."
nt the furnace. A board had been nailed over the opening of it under the house, and it was never hooked to the furnace. The heating guy told me all it would take was about 10 feet of pipe and a couple of elbows. He was back the next morning and had it fixed in no time for half the cost of the new washer (a subsequent loan from Dad).

We've lived in that house for 12 years and are pretty lucky I guess. It's good this was brought to our attention.

If you'd like to learn more about carbon monoxide poisoning, and everyone should, go to the Environmental Protection Agency's Web site at www.epa.gov and search for "carbon monoxide."

Jan. 8, 2003

'70s Web Site Leads to Odd Situations

A Web site about the "me decade" has led to interesting situations, information and some things I know would not otherwise happen in the life of a Jane Doe off the street like me.

It goes back to about 1994 or '95. I had attended a workshop at an Arkansas Press Women's conference in Fayetteville. It was about this new thing called the World Wide Web and was taught by Kenton Adler, who, coincidentally, now lives in Batesville and is empl

Jan. 8, 2003

'70s Web Site Leads to Odd Situations

A Web site about the "me decade" has led to interesting situations, information and some things I know would not otherwise happen in the life of a Jane Doe off the street like me.

It goes back to about 1994 or '95. I had attended a workshop at an Arkansas Press Women's conference in Fayetteville. It was about this new thing called the World Wide Web and was taught by Kenton Adler, who, coincidentally, now lives in Batesville and is employed by Lyon College.

The Internet bug bit me, and I knew right away I'd like to build a Web site for the newspaper for which I worked at the time. So, I bought a huge book, something about learning HTML coding in 14 days, and started building my Stuck in the '70s site as a learning experiment. I chose that theme because I didn't really want the page to be about me, as most personal Web sites were at the time. And, the 1970s was something I knew well and loved.

I got so involved in Stuck in the '70s, it just kept growing and growing. I was adding more and more about music, teen idols, television, movies and all things '70s. I don't really remloyed by Lyon College.

The Internet bug bit me, and I knew right away I'd like to build a Web site for the newspaper for which I worked at the time. So, I bought a huge book, something about learning HTML coding in 14 days, and started building my Stuck in the '70s site as a learning experiment. I chose that theme because I didn't really want the page to be about me, as most personal Web sites were at the time. And, the 1970s was something I knew well and loved.

I got so involved in Stuck in the '70s, it just kept growing and growing. I was adding more and more about music, teen idols, television, movies and all things '70s. I don't really remember when, how or why it occurred to me to put my 1970s diary online. At this point, there's still a lot more of it to put on there. Completed are 1977-1979, and I'm currently working on 1973.

Ends up, that silly diary is what's gotten most of the attention. Seems there are actually other women out there my age who can identify with my teen-age ramblings, as can girls who are currently teens.

I mentioned in this column a couple weeks ago about Autograph Collector magazine. The story of how I met several celebrities and got their autographs will be featured in the March issue, available at bookstores early next month.

This week,member when, how or why it occurred to me to put my 1970s diary online. At this point, there's still a lot more of it to put on there. Completed are 1977-1979, and I'm currently working on 1973.

Ends up, that silly diary is what's gotten most of the attention. Seems there are actually other women out there my age who can identify with my teen-age ramblings, as can girls who are currently teens.

I mentioned in this column a couple weeks ago about Autograph Collector magazine. The story of how I met several celebrities and got their autographs will be featured in the March issue, available at bookstores early next month.

This week, I got an e-mail from Deirdre Flint, who records on the Bell Atlantic label. She writes, in part, "Hi there! My name is Deirdre Flint and I am a satiric singer/songwriter (just played Fayetteville this summer) who used your site to help me write my song 'I Miss the 70s.' It's the first track on my second CD that came out this month. ... I would love to send you a copy of the CD for your help! You saved me a lot of research. I think the song turned out pretty well. :) Thanks for your dedication to this fine, fine decade."

Cool, huh?

Something on the more embarrassing side that happened as a result of having the Web site:

I, I got an e-mail from Deirdre Flint, who records on the Bell Atlantic label. She writes, in part, "Hi there! My name is Deirdre Flint and I am a satiric singer/songwriter (just played Fayetteville this summer) who used your site to help me write my song 'I Miss the 70s.' It's the first track on my second CD that came out this month. ... I would love to send you a copy of the CD for your help! You saved me a lot of research. I think the song turned out pretty well. :) Thanks for your dedication to this fine, fine decade."

Cool, huh?

Something on the more embarrassing side that happened as a result of having the Web site:

I got a surprise e-mail from a crush who never noticed me in high school. He was a senior when I was a freshman. He had the most beautiful dark brown feathered hair and Levi's 501s. He also had a scrawny girlfriend with big, curly red hair. They were joined at the hip.

I wrote pages and pages about Joe in that diary. Then, 20 years later, I typed them into my computer and put them on the Internet, not even thinking Joe might end up actually reading them. Duh.

During the 1977-78 school year, I figured out which locker was Joe's and wrote little secret admirer notes on it with a grease pencil. Other notes, I just stuck right through the vents ofI got a surprise e-mail from a crush who never noticed me in high school. He was a senior when I was a freshman. He had the most beautiful dark brown feathered hair and Levi's 501s. He also had a scrawny girlfriend with big, curly red hair. They were joined at the hip.

I wrote pages and pages about Joe in that diary. Then, 20 years later, I typed them into my computer and put them on the Internet, not even thinking Joe might end up actually reading them. Duh.

During the 1977-78 school year, I figured out which locker was Joe's and wrote little secret admirer notes on it with a grease pencil. Other notes, I just stuck right through the vents of the locker. I gawked at him as he passed in the hallway every chance I got. Then, yeah, I wrote about it.

One study hall, I got bold enough to walk over to Joe, who had his calculator and books out on the table where he sat with his friends, and ask him if I could borrow the calculator. I had my algebra and other books spread out on a table nearby and had my own calculator somewhere there too. Joe said, "Sure," handed me his calculator, and I retreated to my table. Wow. I was touching something he had held. I made like I was using it to figure out a problem. Then, I walked over, returned it and said, "Thanks."

"Welcof the locker. I gawked at him as he passed in the hallway every chance I got. Then, yeah, I wrote about it.

One study hall, I got bold enough to walk over to Joe, who had his calculator and books out on the table where he sat with his friends, and ask him if I could borrow the calculator. I had my algebra and other books spread out on a table nearby and had my own calculator somewhere there too. Joe said, "Sure," handed me his calculator, and I retreated to my table. Wow. I was touching something he had held. I made like I was using it to figure out a problem. Then, I walked over, returned it and said, "Thanks."

"Welcome," Joe had said, and he glanced at me with those chocolate-brown eyes. He had acknowledged my existence!

Now, a few months ago, I get this message in my e-mail. It goes like this:

"I was at a class reunion meeting the other night and a few folks there suggested I check out this Web site. They said I would be interested. Well I certainly was interested ... and flattered. I had no idea (obviously). I feel rather bad for having brushed you off then. I can only assume I was concerned about my girlfriend getting upset. Please accept my apologies after 25 years."

Oh my. In a subsequent e-mail Joe, now a financial consultantome," Joe had said, and he glanced at me with those chocolate-brown eyes. He had acknowledged my existence!

Now, a few months ago, I get this message in my e-mail. It goes like this:

"I was at a class reunion meeting the other night and a few folks there suggested I check out this Web site. They said I would be interested. Well I certainly was interested ... and flattered. I had no idea (obviously). I feel rather bad for having brushed you off then. I can only assume I was concerned about my girlfriend getting upset. Please accept my apologies after 25 years."

Oh my. In a subsequent e-mail Joe, now a financial consultant with Caterpillar Tractor Co., tells me he's got five kids and has been married three times. Well, with Joe's permission, I added a tribute to him on my diary's "Who's Who" page.

Also featured on that page is a boy named Stacy. He was my boyfriend when I was in eighth grade and a friend on through till about a year after I graduated from high school and moved to Arkansas. Having Stacy on the Who's Who page led to some news last weekend.

Stacy went on to a different high school, and I got an e-mail from one of his classmates who had found Stuck in the '70s. She writes:

"I went to high school with Stacy ... I always enjoyed myt with Caterpillar Tractor Co., tells me he's got five kids and has been married three times. Well, with Joe's permission, I added a tribute to him on my diary's "Who's Who" page.

Also featured on that page is a boy named Stacy. He was my boyfriend when I was in eighth grade and a friend on through till about a year after I graduated from high school and moved to Arkansas. Having Stacy on the Who's Who page led to some news last weekend.

Stacy went on to a different high school, and I got an e-mail from one of his classmates who had found Stuck in the '70s. She writes:

"I went to high school with Stacy ... I always enjoyed my friendship with him. As often happens with high school friendships, we lost touch after graduation. When my 10-year reunion rolled around in '92, I wasn't exactly thrilled about going, as there were about three people that I really wanted to see, and Stacy was among them. I was shocked to open the booklet they were handing out with everyone's contact info to find out that Stacy had passed away. I don't even know any details, except that someone said that he had cancer."

I could write an entire column about good memories of Stacy, and maybe I will. But, for now, I'll end here on a happy note.

Thanks to the Stuck in the '70s Web site, I'ly friendship with him. As often happens with high school friendships, we lost touch after graduation. When my 10-year reunion rolled around in '92, I wasn't exactly thrilled about going, as there were about three people that I really wanted to see, and Stacy was among them. I was shocked to open the booklet they were handing out with everyone's contact info to find out that Stacy had passed away. I don't even know any details, except that someone said that he had cancer."

I could write an entire column about good memories of Stacy, and maybe I will. But, for now, I'll end here on a happy note.

Thanks to the Stuck in the '70s Web site, I'll be interviewing Donny Osmond via phone, hopefully later this month, and I'll be sure to write about that experience for you here in the Weekly. Meanwhile, check out www.stuckinthe70s.com.

Jan. 1, 2003
Time to Look Back, Evaluate, Resolve

It's that time again to look back, look forward, evaluate and resolve. I both love and hate this time of year.

Mostly, I love it because it is a chance to start all over again, another chance to get it right this time. I'm not really sure why the beginning of a new calendar year sll be interviewing Donny Osmond via phone, hopefully later this month, and I'll be sure to write about that experience for you here in the Weekly. Meanwhile, check out www.stuckinthe70s.com.

Jan. 1, 2003

Time to Look Back, Evaluate, Resolve

It's that time again to look back, look forward, evaluate and resolve. I both love and hate this time of year.

Mostly, I love it because it is a chance to start all over again, another chance to get it right this time. I'm not really sure why the beginning of a new calendar year should be the time to turn over a new leaf. It just seems right.

I've never been one to spend New Year's Eve in the middle of a crowd. One can't contemplate above all the racket. My ideal New Year's Eve is spent either alone or with my two sons. When the boys and I are together, we fire up the old record turntable and dance, drink sparkling grape juice, make our resolutions and watch the big ball descend in Times Square.

When it's just me, I like to put on my thinking cap. Think about the year almost gone: What did I change – for the positive and for the negative? What did I accomplish and what did I fail to accomplish? What do I regshould be the time to turn over a new leaf. It just seems right.

I've never been one to spend New Year's Eve in the middle of a crowd. One can't contemplate above all the racket. My ideal New Year's Eve is spent either alone or with my two sons. When the boys and I are together, we fire up the old record turntable and dance, drink sparkling grape juice, make our resolutions and watch the big ball descend in Times Square.

When it's just me, I like to put on my thinking cap. Think about the year almost gone: What did I change – for the positive and for the negative? What did I accomplish and what did I fail to accomplish? What do I regret? What am I happy I did? What is my goal for the coming year? What do I hope to be doing at the same time next year? What and how can I improve?

Sometimes I write my answers on a piece of paper or type them into my computer. Other times, I just think till it hurts. I don't usually get into a deep funk about anything, but I do try to evaluate some things quite seriously.

This New Year's Eve (still a few days away at this writing) will be a bit different from any other in that I'll hit the big four-oh in just a couple months. Now, I'm not gonna get depressed about that. I am going to take a look at where I am and where I hope to be begret? What am I happy I did? What is my goal for the coming year? What do I hope to be doing at the same time next year? What and how can I improve?

Sometimes I write my answers on a piece of paper or type them into my computer. Other times, I just think till it hurts. I don't usually get into a deep funk about anything, but I do try to evaluate some things quite seriously.

This New Year's Eve (still a few days away at this writing) will be a bit different from any other in that I'll hit the big four-oh in just a couple months. Now, I'm not gonna get depressed about that. I am going to take a look at where I am and where I hope to be before I kick the bucket. 40. Wow.

Well, there are some things from 2002 that will go down in the positive category. A big one is my return to WRD Entertainment Inc. I'm grateful for this place and for the Grace family. Getting to do what one enjoys as a career is more than a lot of people ever see. I'm glad to be here at the Arkansas Weekly, still a growing and changing publication.

The input from you, the readers, is always sought and needed. Over the past year, we've tried to bring you articles, ads and pictures to inform and entertain. We'll continue to do that in 2003, maintaining our focus on positive events and people in north centralefore I kick the bucket. 40. Wow.

Well, there are some things from 2002 that will go down in the positive category. A big one is my return to WRD Entertainment Inc. I'm grateful for this place and for the Grace family. Getting to do what one enjoys as a career is more than a lot of people ever see. I'm glad to be here at the Arkansas Weekly, still a growing and changing publication.

The input from you, the readers, is always sought and needed. Over the past year, we've tried to bring you articles, ads and pictures to inform and entertain. We'll continue to do that in 2003, maintaining our focus on positive events and people in north central Arkansas.

We're also expanding, changing and developing our Web sites for WRD. We hope you'll check them out and offer your ideas and suggestions. Right now, I think the goal is to make them easy to navigate as well as informative. Remember, if you see an article or picture you like here within the pages of the Weekly, and you'd like to share it with your friends around the world, be sure to tell them to visit us online at www.arkansasweekly.com.

Our other Web sites include the Max93 One at www.maxfm.com and Arkansas 103 KWOZ at www.arkansas103.com. I'll be working on one for Sky 99.5 soon.

* * *

We're also expanding, changing and developing our Web sites for WRD. We hope you'll check them out and offer your ideas and suggestions. Right now, I think the goal is to make them easy to navigate as well as informative. Remember, if you see an article or picture you like here within the pages of the Weekly, and you'd like to share it with your friends around the world, be sure to tell them to visit us online at www.arkansasweekly.com.

Our other Web sites include the Max93 One at www.maxfm.com and Arkansas 103 KWOZ at www.arkansas103.com. I'll be working on one for Sky 99.5 soon.

* * *

One reader I was glad to hear from is Debra Finch of Newport. Thanks for writing, Debra, and thanks for letting me know I'm not such an oddball!

Dec. 25, 2002

That's Right, I Know 'The Captain'

Seems whenever I bring up the Captain and Tennille around here, people snicker or roll their eyes.

Yeah, they're just jealous. Back on Aug. 8, 1978, I got to meet Daryl Dragon, aka "The Captain," in the town where I grew up. He and Toni Tennille (Mrs. Captain) were doing a concert in Glen Oak Park at the outdo
One reader I was glad to hear from is Debra Finch of Newport. Thanks for writing, Debra, and thanks for letting me know I'm not such an oddball!

Dec. 25, 2002

That's Right, I Know 'The Captain'

Seems whenever I bring up the Captain and Tennille around here, people snicker or roll their eyes.

Yeah, they're just jealous. Back on Aug. 8, 1978, I got to meet Daryl Dragon, aka "The Captain," in the town where I grew up. He and Toni Tennille (Mrs. Captain) were doing a concert in Glen Oak Park at the outdoor amphitheater that night. I was 15 years old, and my mom and I had tickets to the concert. Seating was not reserved – there were rows of park benches, or one could sit on concrete by the stage or on a blanket on the grass under the stars.

Ten years later, in 1988, at EPCOT Center in Florida, the Captain and Tennille happened to be performing and, again, I met up with Daryl. He remembered me and asked about my mom. That time, I briefly talked to Toni as well. Since then, Daryl and I have maintained contact, now through electronic mail, and I would consider him a friend. So, my coworkers' jesting rolls off my back, and I proudly defend the Captain oor amphitheater that night. I was 15 years old, and my mom and I had tickets to the concert. Seating was not reserved – there were rows of park benches, or one could sit on concrete by the stage or on a blanket on the grass under the stars.

Ten years later, in 1988, at EPCOT Center in Florida, the Captain and Tennille happened to be performing and, again, I met up with Daryl. He remembered me and asked about my mom. That time, I briefly talked to Toni as well. Since then, Daryl and I have maintained contact, now through electronic mail, and I would consider him a friend. So, my coworkers' jesting rolls off my back, and I proudly defend the Captain and Tennille.

Below, I've typed what I originally wrote in my diary Aug. 8, 1978, just as it appeared, mistakes and all, so you can hear the whole story.

Good Lord! Have I got a story for you today!! Here goes: Went to theater, saw Sgt. Pepper. Got to park at 2:00. Sat in lawn chairs by lake. Got up, and walked along lake behind the stage. Went back and stood by gate where the semi's with keyboards and speakers were coming through, thought maybe it was Toni and Daryl. I was right! Halfway right. When me and ma realized it was Daryl, I went back to the gate where I came across a member of the staff. I asked him if I could go down there and mee and Tennille.

Below, I've typed what I originally wrote in my diary Aug. 8, 1978, just as it appeared, mistakes and all, so you can hear the whole story.

Good Lord! Have I got a story for you today!! Here goes: Went to theater, saw Sgt. Pepper. Got to park at 2:00. Sat in lawn chairs by lake. Got up, and walked along lake behind the stage. Went back and stood by gate where the semi's with keyboards and speakers were coming through, thought maybe it was Toni and Daryl. I was right! Halfway right. When me and ma realized it was Daryl, I went back to the gate where I came across a member of the staff. I asked him if I could go down there and meet Daryl. He said sure go ahead! So, I went down there and he showed me how to get backstage and where Daryl was! I spotted HIM leaning over the fence watching the water in the lake. I ran towards him yelling his name! He said hi. I told him how I was in the Friends Club and had been dying to meet him and Toni. He said let's sit in the shade, so we moved over to a park bench under a tree and started to talk!! I got his autograph right off. Then asked if it was okay if I took a couple of pics. He said for me to be in it too, and had a roadie take pics. We talked a bit more about stuff. He said Liz died. Toni was back at the hotel resting. Asked how long I've beeet Daryl. He said sure go ahead! So, I went down there and he showed me how to get backstage and where Daryl was! I spotted HIM leaning over the fence watching the water in the lake. I ran towards him yelling his name! He said hi. I told him how I was in the Friends Club and had been dying to meet him and Toni. He said let's sit in the shade, so we moved over to a park bench under a tree and started to talk!! I got his autograph right off. Then asked if it was okay if I took a couple of pics. He said for me to be in it too, and had a roadie take pics. We talked a bit more about stuff. He said Liz died. Toni was back at the hotel resting. Asked how long I've been in the fan club. I said since '76. He called me an original. I asked if he would wait for me while I went and got ma and his birthday present. He said sure! So I ran histerically back to ma and got the present and my scrapbook. He was still there when we returned, waiting for me! Gave him the dragon. He liked it. Me, mom and him talked about EVERYTHING! It was just like talking to an old friend!!!! He signed my hat. Ma took more pics of us together. He is such a nice man! He wore old blue jeans, a t-shirt that said something about healthfood, and tennis shoes and a cordorouy cap. He had his arm around me the whole time I sat there. He gave me advice to take Kelpen in the fan club. I said since '76. He called me an original. I asked if he would wait for me while I went and got ma and his birthday present. He said sure! So I ran histerically back to ma and got the present and my scrapbook. He was still there when we returned, waiting for me! Gave him the dragon. He liked it. Me, mom and him talked about EVERYTHING! It was just like talking to an old friend!!!! He signed my hat. Ma took more pics of us together. He is such a nice man! He wore old blue jeans, a t-shirt that said something about healthfood, and tennis shoes and a cordorouy cap. He had his arm around me the whole time I sat there. He gave me advice to take Kelp (seaweed) pills for my thyroid. He talked so much, and asked us a lot of questions. Before we left him, I gave him a kiss on his left cheek! Wowie! After talking on that park bench with him for an hour, he had to go. We floated off. ... (concert time) I dashed to the cement 2 feet in front of the stage! I was in the front row, noone ahead of me but THE performers. They came out. When they turned up the lights, Daryl looked right at me and nodded!! I waved back! While Toni was saying that there would be no hat jokes or goofing off, he was looking at me! Then they started there next song, and he interrupted saying hold it, I have a hat joke! So people started tp (seaweed) pills for my thyroid. He talked so much, and asked us a lot of questions. Before we left him, I gave him a kiss on his left cheek! Wowie! After talking on that park bench with him for an hour, he had to go. We floated off. ... (concert time) I dashed to the cement 2 feet in front of the stage! I was in the front row, noone ahead of me but THE performers. They came out. When they turned up the lights, Daryl looked right at me and nodded!! I waved back! While Toni was saying that there would be no hat jokes or goofing off, he was looking at me! Then they started there next song, and he interrupted saying hold it, I have a hat joke! So people started to yell, and were expecting a really good hat joke. He was looking at me as he said, What goes on your head and is cute? Then he pointed to me and said "Stand up!" He said, "That's what!" The whole thing was so hard to believe!! Daryl is so much unlike a big t.v. star!! It was just like I had known him for years. This has been the best day of my life!

Dec. 18, 2002

Column Earns Writer Meal of Crow

I'm eating crow right now, and it's making me a bit sick to my stomach.

A couple of weeks ago in this space, I wrote about a few different topics, including one of my to yell, and were expecting a really good hat joke. He was looking at me as he said, What goes on your head and is cute? Then he pointed to me and said "Stand up!" He said, "That's what!" The whole thing was so hard to believe!! Daryl is so much unlike a big t.v. star!! It was just like I had known him for years. This has been the best day of my life!

Dec. 18, 2002

Column Earns Writer Meal of Crow

I'm eating crow right now, and it's making me a bit sick to my stomach.

A couple of weeks ago in this space, I wrote about a few different topics, including one of my all-time favorite performers, Jim Stafford.

I had arranged with his marketing people to meet him after one of his shows at his Branson, Mo., theater for an article in Arkansas Weekly.

Now, as I tried to convey in that column, I've honestly been a fan of Mr. Stafford's since at least 1974 when he had a big hit with "Spiders and Snakes." I saved up allowances to buy his self-titled album and the one that followed, "Not Just Another Pretty Foot." I watched his summer television show religiously and tried hard not to miss any of his appearances on talk shows, such as Dinah Shore and Merv Griffin, and was reall all-time favorite performers, Jim Stafford.

I had arranged with his marketing people to meet him after one of his shows at his Branson, Mo., theater for an article in Arkansas Weekly.

Now, as I tried to convey in that column, I've honestly been a fan of Mr. Stafford's since at least 1974 when he had a big hit with "Spiders and Snakes." I saved up allowances to buy his self-titled album and the one that followed, "Not Just Another Pretty Foot." I watched his summer television show religiously and tried hard not to miss any of his appearances on talk shows, such as Dinah Shore and Merv Griffin, and was really excited to see him play a part on The Love Boat. I listened through my stereo's headphones so much to those two albums that, to this day, I can remember every word of every song on both of them. I wrote in my diary often about how cute and funny I thought Jim was. Why, he was better to me than Donny Osmond and on a par with the two Tonys -- DeFranco and Orlando!

When he came to my hometown of Peoria in October 1975, my mom and dad granted my wish and took me to see him in concert. I left my seat near my parents, some rows away from the stage upon the Bradley Braves' basketball court, and went right down to the edge. I could reach the stage flooly excited to see him play a part on The Love Boat. I listened through my stereo's headphones so much to those two albums that, to this day, I can remember every word of every song on both of them. I wrote in my diary often about how cute and funny I thought Jim was. Why, he was better to me than Donny Osmond and on a par with the two Tonys -- DeFranco and Orlando!

When he came to my hometown of Peoria in October 1975, my mom and dad granted my wish and took me to see him in concert. I left my seat near my parents, some rows away from the stage upon the Bradley Braves' basketball court, and went right down to the edge. I could reach the stage floor with my arms which I crossed in front of me, and lay my chin on, staring in wide-eyed amazement, finding it difficult to believe I was actually in the same room with Jim Stafford himself and marveling at every word that passed through his lips.

OK. Have I made the point that I worshiped Jim Stafford yet? So, you can imagine how nervous and giddy I was last Saturday night, knowing I was actually going to speak one-on-one with the man. I'd arranged the interview a month or two ahead of time, giving myself plenty of time to figure out what I was going to ask. I hadn't actually seen him in person since April 2000 when he was the master of ceremonies for an evor with my arms which I crossed in front of me, and lay my chin on, staring in wide-eyed amazement, finding it difficult to believe I was actually in the same room with Jim Stafford himself and marveling at every word that passed through his lips.

OK. Have I made the point that I worshiped Jim Stafford yet? So, you can imagine how nervous and giddy I was last Saturday night, knowing I was actually going to speak one-on-one with the man. I'd arranged the interview a month or two ahead of time, giving myself plenty of time to figure out what I was going to ask. I hadn't actually seen him in person since April 2000 when he was the master of ceremonies for an event at the Mel Tillis theater in Branson. I was able to meet him briefly at that time and get his autograph. Since then, I've just seen publicity photos.

The only thing that puzzled me, and I guess I'm out of my gourd, was Mr. Stafford's hair. You see, Jack Nicholson has also been on my "attractive guys" list since I saw him in (this is embarrassing) The Shining in 1980. I then obsessed over Nicholson and went on to see all of his films and collect pictures and posters of him. So, what I'm trying to get across in this paragraph is, I dig guys who give in to their hairlines.

All right ... moving on. When my boys and I arrived vent at the Mel Tillis theater in Branson. I was able to meet him briefly at that time and get his autograph. Since then, I've just seen publicity photos.

The only thing that puzzled me, and I guess I'm out of my gourd, was Mr. Stafford's hair. You see, Jack Nicholson has also been on my "attractive guys" list since I saw him in (this is embarrassing) The Shining in 1980. I then obsessed over Nicholson and went on to see all of his films and collect pictures and posters of him. So, what I'm trying to get across in this paragraph is, I dig guys who give in to their hairlines.

All right ... moving on. When my boys and I arrived at the Stafford theater the other night, I was given tickets and a press kit. Once we found our seats, I opened up the envelope and felt my throat plunge into my stomach. It was full of new pictures I had not seen. And, in these pictures, Mr. Stafford's hair was reminiscent of Jack's. I also held in my hand a copy of the Dec. 4 issue of Arkansas Weekly I planned to give to Mr. Stafford when the big moment arrived.

Well, the show was brilliant, and Jim was hilarious and so talented, just like I expected (more on the cover of this edition). My sons and I were graciously allowed backstage and into the dressing room he and his wife, Ann, share where at the Stafford theater the other night, I was given tickets and a press kit. Once we found our seats, I opened up the envelope and felt my throat plunge into my stomach. It was full of new pictures I had not seen. And, in these pictures, Mr. Stafford's hair was reminiscent of Jack's. I also held in my hand a copy of the Dec. 4 issue of Arkansas Weekly I planned to give to Mr. Stafford when the big moment arrived.

Well, the show was brilliant, and Jim was hilarious and so talented, just like I expected (more on the cover of this edition). My sons and I were graciously allowed backstage and into the dressing room he and his wife, Ann, share where they were kind and friendly. We behaved ourselves, and I even managed to ask a number of the questions on my list without stammering around too badly. The whole time, I was debating whether to give him a copy of the issue containing the column about pondering his hair. Because he had made a reference to it (the hair, not my column) in the show we had just seen, and I guess, because I wanted to prove I really do write for a newspaper, I handed it to him.

I fretted about it the rest of the weekend and wished I hadn't given it to him. Was it really THAT bad? Yes, it probably was, and to anyone unfamiliar with my columns, I probably look like a real they were kind and friendly. We behaved ourselves, and I even managed to ask a number of the questions on my list without stammering around too badly. The whole time, I was debating whether to give him a copy of the issue containing the column about pondering his hair. Because he had made a reference to it (the hair, not my column) in the show we had just seen, and I guess, because I wanted to prove I really do write for a newspaper, I handed it to him.

I fretted about it the rest of the weekend and wished I hadn't given it to him. Was it really THAT bad? Yes, it probably was, and to anyone unfamiliar with my columns, I probably look like a real no-class witch. I couldn't stop thinking about it, so I sent off an e-mail to the nice PR lady who arranged for us to get into the show and for me to interview Mr. Stafford. I thanked her and told her I hoped I hadn't offended him with that meaningless column. Here, in part, is what she wrote back:

"I checked out what you wrote on Dec 4. I do feel it was inconsiderate and mean spirited to write those things before you even saw the show or met Jim. It sounded judgmental to me and I hope Jim did not read it since I feel it simply served no purpose for him to read it."

Ouch. I'll probably never be allowed in the door there again, I imagine no-class witch. I couldn't stop thinking about it, so I sent off an e-mail to the nice PR lady who arranged for us to get into the show and for me to interview Mr. Stafford. I thanked her and told her I hoped I hadn't offended him with that meaningless column. Here, in part, is what she wrote back:

"I checked out what you wrote on Dec 4. I do feel it was inconsiderate and mean spirited to write those things before you even saw the show or met Jim. It sounded judgmental to me and I hope Jim did not read it since I feel it simply served no purpose for him to read it."

Ouch. I'll probably never be allowed in the door there again, I imagine. I can't think of any way to make up for possibly hurting my idol's feelings; and I am compelled to go sit cross-legged in a dark closet and eat worms. I should have never given him the paper or even written that stuff in my column. Darn me for being so curious about things that are none of my business! Just a few short days ago, Jim Stafford didn't even know lil' ol' Julie in Batesville existed, and now he likely knows me as "that hateful woman from Arkansas."

Really, I don't ever on purpose try to hurt someone's feelings (unless they take a stab at me first, of course). I've asked for Mr. Stafford's forgiveness. I'll try to get on with e. I can't think of any way to make up for possibly hurting my idol's feelings; and I am compelled to go sit cross-legged in a dark closet and eat worms. I should have never given him the paper or even written that stuff in my column. Darn me for being so curious about things that are none of my business! Just a few short days ago, Jim Stafford didn't even know lil' ol' Julie in Batesville existed, and now he likely knows me as "that hateful woman from Arkansas."

Really, I don't ever on purpose try to hurt someone's feelings (unless they take a stab at me first, of course). I've asked for Mr. Stafford's forgiveness. I'll try to get on with things and not offend any more of the people I've admired forever. Thank goodness, when I met Donny Osmond last year, the worst thing I did was lift my pants leg and say, "See my purple socks?!"

Columnist's note: I wrote the above column a few days ago. Right now, it's Friday, Dec. 13. Rather than go back and change the whole dadgum thing, I want to update you. Let it be known that I have been forgiven by Mr. Stafford's people. (I never really have heard what he himself thought of all the silliness.) I will, after all, be allowed to set foot back in the Jim Stafford Theatre. As often as the boys and I go to Branson, don't you know that' things and not offend any more of the people I've admired forever. Thank goodness, when I met Donny Osmond last year, the worst thing I did was lift my pants leg and say, "See my purple socks?!"

Columnist's note: I wrote the above column a few days ago. Right now, it's Friday, Dec. 13. Rather than go back and change the whole dadgum thing, I want to update you. Let it be known that I have been forgiven by Mr. Stafford's people. (I never really have heard what he himself thought of all the silliness.) I will, after all, be allowed to set foot back in the Jim Stafford Theatre. As often as the boys and I go to Branson, don't you know that's a relief!?

Preview of next week's column: I got a call this week from the associate editor of Autograph Collector magazine. I'll be working with him to feature my Monkees, Osmond and Captain and Tennille encounters in his regular column, "One Brief Signing Moment," for the next issue of the nationwide magazine! Just think, this is a magazine anyone, anywhere in the country, will be able to walk into Hastings or any other book store, pick right up and buy. Groovy.

Dec. 11, 2002
What Was the Name of That Story Again?
<'s a relief!?

Preview of next week's column: I got a call this week from the associate editor of Autograph Collector magazine. I'll be working with him to feature my Monkees, Osmond and Captain and Tennille encounters in his regular column, "One Brief Signing Moment," for the next issue of the nationwide magazine! Just think, this is a magazine anyone, anywhere in the country, will be able to walk into Hastings or any other book store, pick right up and buy. Groovy.

Dec. 11, 2002
What Was the Name of That Story Again?

The sound woke me from a deep sleep around 3 this morning. Somehow, nestled between my red flannel sheets, my head sunken into my feather pillow, I recognized it instantly. It was the CRACK! of a very big and old tree, encased in ice, followed by the crashing sound of its severed limbs hitting the frozen ground.

My eyes popped open and I pictured the bedroom ceiling above me opening up, the tree branch smashing through next to me on the mattress. I knew I should've had that tree trimmed last summer.

After that, I made a hasty retreat to the living room where I tried to sleep on the couch. Cracking in the distance continued.

When the
The sound woke me from a deep sleep around 3 this morning. Somehow, nestled between my red flannel sheets, my head sunken into my feather pillow, I recognized it instantly. It was the CRACK! of a very big and old tree, encased in ice, followed by the crashing sound of its severed limbs hitting the frozen ground.

My eyes popped open and I pictured the bedroom ceiling above me opening up, the tree branch smashing through next to me on the mattress. I knew I should've had that tree trimmed last summer.

After that, I made a hasty retreat to the living room where I tried to sleep on the couch. Cracking in the distance continued.

When the alarm clock went off, I went through my morning routine, bundled up and went outdoors. Several trees all around had cracked under the weight of the ice and fallen, but not the one I feared, thank goodness. The sun had not yet come up, the electricity was off and the neighborhood was silent.

As I stood there, I could hear more and more trees cracking and crashing around the neighborhood. It was a very unfamiliar sound and quite a surreal experience. As I went back into the house, I thanked my lucky stars for that huge tree still standing.

The odd feeling outdoors reminded me of something I had read in college. About a hundred years ago, when alarm clock went off, I went through my morning routine, bundled up and went outdoors. Several trees all around had cracked under the weight of the ice and fallen, but not the one I feared, thank goodness. The sun had not yet come up, the electricity was off and the neighborhood was silent.

As I stood there, I could hear more and more trees cracking and crashing around the neighborhood. It was a very unfamiliar sound and quite a surreal experience. As I went back into the house, I thanked my lucky stars for that huge tree still standing.

The odd feeling outdoors reminded me of something I had read in college. About a hundred years ago, when I was attending Arkansas College, I took a summer course under Dr. Terrell Tebbetts.

It was a stupid idea to take this class and try to pass it within the 3- or 4-week timeframe allowed, especially when it took away so much valuable tanning time beside the pool or at the lake.

I think it was called "Masterpieces of the Western World II," or some such thing.

At any rate, the book was at least as thick as a dictionary, and the text was probably in about a 7-point font. I was on the Dean's List and was pretty bummed about the C I wound up with, but it was my own dang fault.

Well, I was reminded of a short story within;I was attending Arkansas College, I took a summer course under Dr. Terrell Tebbetts.

It was a stupid idea to take this class and try to pass it within the 3- or 4-week timeframe allowed, especially when it took away so much valuable tanning time beside the pool or at the lake.

I think it was called "Masterpieces of the Western World II," or some such thing.

At any rate, the book was at least as thick as a dictionary, and the text was probably in about a 7-point font. I was on the Dean's List and was pretty bummed about the C I wound up with, but it was my own dang fault.

Well, I was reminded of a short story within that text book. I can't for the life of me think of the name of the story or the author. When I called Tebbetts, certain he would remember it off the top of his head, cite the author and title and perhaps quote a paragraph or two, he reminded me how long it has been since I was in college and since he taught 19th century literature. Gee, thanks.

The story was about a guy, written in first person, I think, who was snowbound in a small cabin. He slowly goes crazy, thinking he can hear the snowflakes falling.

What was the name of that story? Somewhere deep in the bowels of my metal outbuilding lies the answer. I saved all of my textbooks from collen that text book. I can't for the life of me think of the name of the story or the author. When I called Tebbetts, certain he would remember it off the top of his head, cite the author and title and perhaps quote a paragraph or two, he reminded me how long it has been since I was in college and since he taught 19th century literature. Gee, thanks.

The story was about a guy, written in first person, I think, who was snowbound in a small cabin. He slowly goes crazy, thinking he can hear the snowflakes falling.

What was the name of that story? Somewhere deep in the bowels of my metal outbuilding lies the answer. I saved all of my textbooks from college, and that one is buried out there. But alas, the door is frozen shut.

At this writing, the electricity in my part of town is back on, but we're suffering from cable withdrawal. I've dragged out a tiny black and white TV that the boys and I often take camping with us. If I sit a foot away from the screen, I can get the Jonesboro channel.

You won't be seeing the kids and me on 1800s House anytime soon I'm afraid.

Julie M. Fidler is editor of Arkansas Weekly. She may be reached via e-mail at [email protected].

Dec. 4, 2002 Former '70s Tege, and that one is buried out there. But alas, the door is frozen shut.

At this writing, the electricity in my part of town is back on, but we're suffering from cable withdrawal. I've dragged out a tiny black and white TV that the boys and I often take camping with us. If I sit a foot away from the screen, I can get the Jonesboro channel.

You won't be seeing the kids and me on 1800s House anytime soon I'm afraid.

Julie M. Fidler is editor of Arkansas Weekly. She may be reached via e-mail at [email protected].

Dec. 4, 2002 Former '70s Teen Idol Has Perfected Voice

As I write this, Thanksgiving is a couple of days away and we're scurrying around trying to get the Dec. 4 issue of Arkansas Weekly done early so we can be with our families for the long weekend.

As a result of all the manic scurrying, I'm hard pressed to think of something to write about this week. Hard to believe, but sometimes it's difficult to narrow my thoughts down to one topic or come up with any topic at all for a weekly column.

So, I'm borrowing from that handsome devil, our very own Rob Grace (who incidentally borrowed the idea from someone else) and I'm going to write a bit about a few thTeen Idol Has Perfected Voice
As I write this, Thanksgiving is a couple of days away and we're scurrying around trying to get the Dec. 4 issue of Arkansas Weekly done early so we can be with our families for the long weekend.

As a result of all the manic scurrying, I'm hard pressed to think of something to write about this week. Hard to believe, but sometimes it's difficult to narrow my thoughts down to one topic or come up with any topic at all for a weekly column.

So, I'm borrowing from that handsome devil, our very own Rob Grace (who incidentally borrowed the idea from someone else) and I'm going to write a bit about a few things that have been on my mind recently. Here goes:

• Donny Osmond's new CD, Somewhere in Time This is a beauty. I'm not a record reviewer, and I'm definitely biased, but I think this is a great CD. Donny has always had an outstanding voice, but I believe his years of starring in the musical Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat have honed his chords to perfection. Listening to the CD makes me think of the late Karen Carpenter. I've always said there never was and never will be another angelic female voice that can compare to hers. It's so distinctive, recognizable and clear. That's what Donny has achieved on this CD.
• Donny Osmond's new CD, Somewhere in Time This is a beauty. I'm not a record reviewer, and I'm definitely biased, but I think this is a great CD. Donny has always had an outstanding voice, but I believe his years of starring in the musical Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat have honed his chords to perfection. Listening to the CD makes me think of the late Karen Carpenter. I've always said there never was and never will be another angelic female voice that can compare to hers. It's so distinctive, recognizable and clear. That's what Donny has achieved on this CD.

The CD contains 22 songs. All but one are remakes. Donny recently said he chose to call the CD Somewhere in Time because each of the selections will take you back to a certain time.

A woman from Donny's promotional company contacted me because of my "Stuck in the '70s" Web site (www.stuckinthe70s.com) and sent me the CD. We've continued to e-mail back and forth, and as a result, she is sending a shipment of the new CDs, autographed by Donny himself.

Some of the remakes include "Without You," "I Can't Go For That," "All Out of Love," "Could it Be I'm Falling in Love" and an acousticp>
The CD contains 22 songs. All but one are remakes. Donny recently said he chose to call the CD Somewhere in Time because each of the selections will take you back to a certain time.

A woman from Donny's promotional company contacted me because of my "Stuck in the '70s" Web site (www.stuckinthe70s.com) and sent me the CD. We've continued to e-mail back and forth, and as a result, she is sending a shipment of the new CDs, autographed by Donny himself.

Some of the remakes include "Without You," "I Can't Go For That," "All Out of Love," "Could it Be I'm Falling in Love" and an acoustic remake of his '70s hit "Puppy Love." Stay tuned to Sky 99.5 where we'll be giving them away to listeners. I am also working on a phone interview with Donny – we just need to get him to sit still for a moment to talk. Be still my heart!

• Snow Bring it on!

• Jim Stafford I'll attend his show in Branson, Mo., Saturday evening Dec. 7 and interview him for Arkansas Weekly afterward. I've been a fan of Stafford's since 1974 and saw him in concert Oct. 14, 1975, at Bradley University in Peoria, Ill. He's witty and multi-talented.

I met Jim briefly backstage a few years ago at a media event, and c remake of his '70s hit "Puppy Love." Stay tuned to Sky 99.5 where we'll be giving them away to listeners. I am also working on a phone interview with Donny – we just need to get him to sit still for a moment to talk. Be still my heart!

• Snow Bring it on!

• Jim Stafford I'll attend his show in Branson, Mo., Saturday evening Dec. 7 and interview him for Arkansas Weekly afterward. I've been a fan of Stafford's since 1974 and saw him in concert Oct. 14, 1975, at Bradley University in Peoria, Ill. He's witty and multi-talented.

I met Jim briefly backstage a few years ago at a media event, and he was jovial. I had both of his albums, Jim Stafford and Not Just Another Pretty Foot, with me. He grabbed them up, held them over his head and said to whoever else happened to be in the hallway, "Look guys! She has ALL my albums!" Then, he signed them for me.

At this writing, I'm trying to think of what I want to ask Jim in the interview Saturday. Two things spring to my mind immediately, but it might be rude and pretentious to bring up either.

One – what's up with the hair? I can remember 27 years ago, Jim was suffering from the sting of a receding hairline, and now, he seems to be cured.
he was jovial. I had both of his albums, Jim Stafford and Not Just Another Pretty Foot, with me. He grabbed them up, held them over his head and said to whoever else happened to be in the hallway, "Look guys! She has ALL my albums!" Then, he signed them for me.

At this writing, I'm trying to think of what I want to ask Jim in the interview Saturday. Two things spring to my mind immediately, but it might be rude and pretentious to bring up either.

One – what's up with the hair? I can remember 27 years ago, Jim was suffering from the sting of a receding hairline, and now, he seems to be cured.

And two – what happened to the "naughty" Jim Stafford I loved so much? Now, please don't get me wrong about the items above. I love Jim and always will. But I miss the risqu� Jim. What with the silly outfits (he used to wear blue jeans and button-down shirts), the hair and the sanitized lyrics, I feel he's been a bit "Bransonized." Not that there's anything wrong with that. But, I'd give my left nostril to go see his show next weekend and hear him sing "Makin' Love With the Headphones On," "I Got Stoned and I Missed It", "L.A. Mamma," or "A Real Good Time."

Whew! H
And two – what happened to the "naughty" Jim Stafford I loved so much? Now, please don't get me wrong about the items above. I love Jim and always will. But I miss the risqu� Jim. What with the silly outfits (he used to wear blue jeans and button-down shirts), the hair and the sanitized lyrics, I feel he's been a bit "Bransonized." Not that there's anything wrong with that. But, I'd give my left nostril to go see his show next weekend and hear him sing "Makin' Love With the Headphones On," "I Got Stoned and I Missed It", "L.A. Mamma," or "A Real Good Time."

Whew! Hopefully I've gotten that out of my system. However, if I should happen to muster the guts to ask either of those things, you'll be the first to know!

• William L. Petersen in Kiss the Sky I ordered this 1998 made-for-The Movie Channel flick through Amazon.com ($10). Oscar quality it ain't. But, I sure dug it. It's about Petersen's character, Jeff, trying to help a friend (played by his real-life bud Gary Cole) through a midlife crisis. They leave their wives and kids and head to the Phillipines where a m�nage � trois ensues, involving the two men and a chick they meet on their travels. Not much storyline, but I enjoyed it. CSI's GHopefully I've gotten that out of my system. However, if I should happen to muster the guts to ask either of those things, you'll be the first to know!

• William L. Petersen in Kiss the Sky I ordered this 1998 made-for-The Movie Channel flick through Amazon.com ($10). Oscar quality it ain't. But, I sure dug it. It's about Petersen's character, Jeff, trying to help a friend (played by his real-life bud Gary Cole) through a midlife crisis. They leave their wives and kids and head to the Phillipines where a m�nage � trois ensues, involving the two men and a chick they meet on their travels. Not much storyline, but I enjoyed it. CSI's Gil Grissom cavorting in the raw. Er, ahem. .

* * *

OK, well, my Weekly cohort, Stacy is giving me the evil eye because I appear to be having too much fun typing this, and she's over there punching out ads at a breakneck speed. So, I'll sign off here and try to return next week with a "real" topic!

Nov. 27, 2002

Legend Surrounds Driver's Ed Teacher

Twenty-four years ago I slid into the faux velvet seat behind the wheel of our family's 1976 Ford Granada. The matchbox-shaped, 4-door car Gil Grissom cavorting in the raw. Er, ahem. .

* * *

OK, well, my Weekly cohort, Stacy is giving me the evil eye because I appear to be having too much fun typing this, and she's over there punching out ads at a breakneck speed. So, I'll sign off here and try to return next week with a "real" topic!

Nov. 27, 2002

Legend Surrounds Driver's Ed Teacher

Twenty-four years ago I slid into the faux velvet seat behind the wheel of our family's 1976 Ford Granada. The matchbox-shaped, 4-door car was white with red trim, and I couldn't believe my parents had purchased such a small vehicle. I also couldn't believe my mom was about to let me drive it.

Dad knew nothing about our experiment. It was just a few weeks before the 9-week driver's education course I had waited for. It was sophomore year of high school. In Illinois at the time, and it may still be the same, you took the driver's ed course, split between time in the classroom and behind the wheel, a few months before your 16th birthday.

Once you got into the course, you got your "blue slip," a much-coveted piece of blue was white with red trim, and I couldn't believe my parents had purchased such a small vehicle. I also couldn't believe my mom was about to let me drive it.

Dad knew nothing about our experiment. It was just a few weeks before the 9-week driver's education course I had waited for. It was sophomore year of high school. In Illinois at the time, and it may still be the same, you took the driver's ed course, split between time in the classroom and behind the wheel, a few months before your 16th birthday.

Once you got into the course, you got your "blue slip," a much-coveted piece of blue paper the size of a paycheck, with the official-looking seal of the Secretary of State and a rubber-stamped signature of that politician. This blue slip allowed one to drive, accompanied by an adult or the driving instructor.

Seeing as how I hadn't yet taken the course, I didn't possess the blue slip when my mom offered to let me drive the Granada up the old Salvation Army road in Brookview. The road is now populated with many houses, but at the time, there was only the Morettos', and the thing dead-ended at the Salvation Army camp in the woods. No traffic there, save bicycles and the neighborhood walker, who was the spitting image paper the size of a paycheck, with the official-looking seal of the Secretary of State and a rubber-stamped signature of that politician. This blue slip allowed one to drive, accompanied by an adult or the driving instructor.

Seeing as how I hadn't yet taken the course, I didn't possess the blue slip when my mom offered to let me drive the Granada up the old Salvation Army road in Brookview. The road is now populated with many houses, but at the time, there was only the Morettos', and the thing dead-ended at the Salvation Army camp in the woods. No traffic there, save bicycles and the neighborhood walker, who was the spitting image of Miss Jane Hathaway.

This story doesn't have any exciting climax. No, I didn't crash the car or run over Miss Hathaway. But, it was exciting navigating Salvation Army Road at five miles per hour with my mother offering helpful tips and encouraging words.

Mr. Snyder was not nearly as encouraging. Mr. Snyder began his career as Illinois Valley Central High School's driver's ed teacher the same year I began my freshman year -- 1977. He was probably fresh out of college. He looked like a young, blonde, curly-haired version of Charlie Chaplin. As far as I could tell upon entering his class, une of Miss Jane Hathaway.

This story doesn't have any exciting climax. No, I didn't crash the car or run over Miss Hathaway. But, it was exciting navigating Salvation Army Road at five miles per hour with my mother offering helpful tips and encouraging words.

Mr. Snyder was not nearly as encouraging. Mr. Snyder began his career as Illinois Valley Central High School's driver's ed teacher the same year I began my freshman year -- 1977. He was probably fresh out of college. He looked like a young, blonde, curly-haired version of Charlie Chaplin. As far as I could tell upon entering his class, unlike the little tramp, he had absolutely no sense of humor whatsoever. I later learned he did indeed have a sense of humor, and a good, dry one.

In browsing through IVC's Web site's faculty page, I see Mr. Snyder is still there, and the picture accompanying his short bio shows him, where else, on the passenger side of a driver's ed car.

Because my birthday is in early March, I began taking driver's ed just after Christmas break. In central Illinois, this means months of snow and icy road conditions. It's not really as bad as you might think. Because they're used to these conditions, they're prepnlike the little tramp, he had absolutely no sense of humor whatsoever. I later learned he did indeed have a sense of humor, and a good, dry one.

In browsing through IVC's Web site's faculty page, I see Mr. Snyder is still there, and the picture accompanying his short bio shows him, where else, on the passenger side of a driver's ed car.

Because my birthday is in early March, I began taking driver's ed just after Christmas break. In central Illinois, this means months of snow and icy road conditions. It's not really as bad as you might think. Because they're used to these conditions, they're prepared with all kinds of substances to spread on the roads and many big plows to clear them. School rarely let out due to winter weather, much to our chagrin, and the local government even had what they clearly marked with signs as "snow routes." These ones were always kept clear if possible.

But, some of the neighborhood roads were not so driveable. Mr. Snyder was already the subject of many students' legends. Rumor had it that he used the brake on his side of the car to catch drivers-in-training off guard. One kid told me Mr. S. waited until they'd gotten on an icy neighborhood street and slammed on the brake, sendingpared with all kinds of substances to spread on the roads and many big plows to clear them. School rarely let out due to winter weather, much to our chagrin, and the local government even had what they clearly marked with signs as "snow routes." These ones were always kept clear if possible.

But, some of the neighborhood roads were not so driveable. Mr. Snyder was already the subject of many students' legends. Rumor had it that he used the brake on his side of the car to catch drivers-in-training off guard. One kid told me Mr. S. waited until they'd gotten on an icy neighborhood street and slammed on the brake, sending the car into a spin to see how the student corrected the skid. Another told about "doing doughnuts" in the high school parking lot. Yet another said Mr. S. had fallen asleep and let the green driver go all the way to Chicago before waking up and telling him to turn around and head back to the school.

Nothing so drastic happened while I was behind the wheel with Mr. Snyder. There was the time when I was in the car, a 1978 Chevrolet Monte Carlo. As we approached a stoplight, the green turned to yellow. Mr. S. turned to the kid who was driving (there were three students at a time in the car) and calmly said, "Gun it ang the car into a spin to see how the student corrected the skid. Another told about "doing doughnuts" in the high school parking lot. Yet another said Mr. S. had fallen asleep and let the green driver go all the way to Chicago before waking up and telling him to turn around and head back to the school.

Nothing so drastic happened while I was behind the wheel with Mr. Snyder. There was the time when I was in the car, a 1978 Chevrolet Monte Carlo. As we approached a stoplight, the green turned to yellow. Mr. S. turned to the kid who was driving (there were three students at a time in the car) and calmly said, "Gun it and hope for the best." The kid looked at Mr. Snyder sitting next to him and applied the brake, stopping for the light that would soon turn red.

Mr. S. was known for his calm demeanor -- perfect for a driver's ed teacher, I guess. He would methodically give directions as we drove: "Turn right at the next stop sign," or "Stop in that store parking lot and switch with Julie."

I was behind the wheel. As I was driving over an icy patch, I spotted a squirrel sitting by the side of the road, trying to decide if it was worth crossing. Just as I approached, he began to cross. nd hope for the best." The kid looked at Mr. Snyder sitting next to him and applied the brake, stopping for the light that would soon turn red.

Mr. S. was known for his calm demeanor -- perfect for a driver's ed teacher, I guess. He would methodically give directions as we drove: "Turn right at the next stop sign," or "Stop in that store parking lot and switch with Julie."

I was behind the wheel. As I was driving over an icy patch, I spotted a squirrel sitting by the side of the road, trying to decide if it was worth crossing. Just as I approached, he began to cross. "Hit that squirrel," Mr. S. said. Of course, I hit the brake, skidded on the ice, and the squirrel made it safely to his destination. I think I saw a smile on Mr. Snyder's face in my peripheral vision.

In the classroom, Mr. Snyder was forced to say more than "turn right," "park here" or "hit the squirrel." He was into drawing diagrams on the chalkboard and asking what we'd do if we were in car A, or where did car B go wrong? One time, in describing the situation to go with one of his diagrams, he explained, "OK, you're traveling in car A on a 2-way hot dog while car B is (something, "Hit that squirrel," Mr. S. said. Of course, I hit the brake, skidded on the ice, and the squirrel made it safely to his destination. I think I saw a smile on Mr. Snyder's face in my peripheral vision.

In the classroom, Mr. Snyder was forced to say more than "turn right," "park here" or "hit the squirrel." He was into drawing diagrams on the chalkboard and asking what we'd do if we were in car A, or where did car B go wrong? One time, in describing the situation to go with one of his diagrams, he explained, "OK, you're traveling in car A on a 2-way hot dog while car B is (something, something, something)." Our class was right before lunch, and Mr. S. clearly had something other than driving on his mind.

I managed to make it through driver's ed with flying colors. On my 16th birthday, Mom took me to the licensing office in Peoria where I took both the driving and written tests and didn't even have to parallel park. Now, a quarter of a century later, my oldest son is about to turn 14, and under Arkansas law, he'll begin learning to drive in the family car. Good gosh -- where's Mr. Snyder when you need him?

Julie M. Fidler is editor of Arkansas Weekly. She may be reached via e-mail something, something)." Our class was right before lunch, and Mr. S. clearly had something other than driving on his mind.

I managed to make it through driver's ed with flying colors. On my 16th birthday, Mom took me to the licensing office in Peoria where I took both the driving and written tests and didn't even have to parallel park. Now, a quarter of a century later, my oldest son is about to turn 14, and under Arkansas law, he'll begin learning to drive in the family car. Good gosh -- where's Mr. Snyder when you need him?
Julie M. Fidler is editor of Arkansas Weekly. She may be reached via e-mail at [email protected] M. Fidler is editor of the Arkansas Weekly. She may be reached via e-mail at [email protected].

November 13, 2002

Wedding Looks Different at 11

This Saturday, my oldest brother, Bob, and his wife celebrate their 28th wedding anniversary. Wow! His wife, Sharolyn, is my idol. I only put up with Bob for 10 years, so I don't know how she's done it.

Bob is eight yea at [email protected] M. Fidler is editor of the Arkansas Weekly. She may be reached via e-mail at [email protected].

November 13, 2002

Wedding Looks Different at 11

This Saturday, my oldest brother, Bob, and his wife celebrate their 28th wedding anniversary. Wow! His wife, Sharolyn, is my idol. I only put up with Bob for 10 years, so I don't know how she's done it.

Bob is eight years older than me. I have tons of great memories of growing up with him, but I'll save those for another column. Right now, I've been thinking about his wedding day, Nov. 16, 1974, and the days leading up to it.

I was 11 years old, so the memories present themselves like scenes shot through a Vaseline-coated lens.

Maybe some preteen girls would have found the whole thing terribly romantic. To me, it was a big inconvenience and infringement on my valuable time.

Always the tomboy, I wouldn't wear a dress for any reason (still don't like to) and hated to be an innocears older than me. I have tons of great memories of growing up with him, but I'll save those for another column. Right now, I've been thinking about his wedding day, Nov. 16, 1974, and the days leading up to it.

I was 11 years old, so the memories present themselves like scenes shot through a Vaseline-coated lens.

Maybe some preteen girls would have found the whole thing terribly romantic. To me, it was a big inconvenience and infringement on my valuable time.

Always the tomboy, I wouldn't wear a dress for any reason (still don't like to) and hated to be an innocent bystander subjected to so much mush (still hate that). The most romance I was interested in usually involved playing the Mystery Date Game at a slumber party. Losing wasn't so bad because I secretly thought the dud was a fox. He just needed a little cleaning up is all. At least he wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty or rip his khakis.

I can't recall when anyone broke the news to me about Bob and Shar's impending nuptials, but I do remember attending a shower. It was nothing but a bunch of women sitting around, playing stupid games, giggling and squealing over gifts.

Somewhere during this timent bystander subjected to so much mush (still hate that). The most romance I was interested in usually involved playing the Mystery Date Game at a slumber party. Losing wasn't so bad because I secretly thought the dud was a fox. He just needed a little cleaning up is all. At least he wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty or rip his khakis.

I can't recall when anyone broke the news to me about Bob and Shar's impending nuptials, but I do remember attending a shower. It was nothing but a bunch of women sitting around, playing stupid games, giggling and squealing over gifts.

Somewhere during this time I learned that the bride's sister and I were chosen to light the candles just before the ceremony.

The next thing I remember was pure, unadulterated torture. It involved the making of matching dresses for Sharolyn's sister and me in the bride's colors -- pink and burgundy.

Together, her sister, Shannon, our mothers and I went to the seamstress's house and were measured for the gowns. I'm not much on describing wedding party dresses, even though I was society page editor for a number of years for a daily newspaper.

But, I can tell you these were floor lengthme I learned that the bride's sister and I were chosen to light the candles just before the ceremony.

The next thing I remember was pure, unadulterated torture. It involved the making of matching dresses for Sharolyn's sister and me in the bride's colors -- pink and burgundy.

Together, her sister, Shannon, our mothers and I went to the seamstress's house and were measured for the gowns. I'm not much on describing wedding party dresses, even though I was society page editor for a number of years for a daily newspaper.

But, I can tell you these were floor length, made of 100 percent baby pink polyester with a velvet burgundy bow at the waist and scratchy, itchy lace around both the rounded neck and short, puffy sleeves. And, when I say the ribbon was at my waist, I mean it would've been at my waist if I'd have had one. At the time, I was under the impression my waist was where the top of my hiphuggers fell.

As if the getup wasn't bad enough, I soon learned this wedding ordeal was to take place early Saturday afternoon, and we were expected to get our hair done (UGH!) and be at the church that morning.

Now, missing Saturday morning cartoons I could get h, made of 100 percent baby pink polyester with a velvet burgundy bow at the waist and scratchy, itchy lace around both the rounded neck and short, puffy sleeves. And, when I say the ribbon was at my waist, I mean it would've been at my waist if I'd have had one. At the time, I was under the impression my waist was where the top of my hiphuggers fell.

As if the getup wasn't bad enough, I soon learned this wedding ordeal was to take place early Saturday afternoon, and we were expected to get our hair done (UGH!) and be at the church that morning.

Now, missing Saturday morning cartoons I could get over, but the thought of missing The Hudson Brothers Razzle Dazzle Show infuriated me.

Keep in mind, this is a time before VCRs were introduced to middle class families. Also, TV geared toward kids was pretty much kept to Saturday mornings on the three major networks. There was no Nickelodeon, no Disney Channel, no Cartoon Network.

The Hudson Brothers only lasted one season. The show's format included songsby the Hudsons, interspersed with comedy sketches and wacky hijinks perpetrated by the brothers and the show's other regulars. One recurring sketch featured Rod Hull with an emu over, but the thought of missing The Hudson Brothers Razzle Dazzle Show infuriated me.

Keep in mind, this is a time before VCRs were introduced to middle class families. Also, TV geared toward kids was pretty much kept to Saturday mornings on the three major networks. There was no Nickelodeon, no Disney Channel, no Cartoon Network.

The Hudson Brothers only lasted one season. The show's format included songsby the Hudsons, interspersed with comedy sketches and wacky hijinks perpetrated by the brothers and the show's other regulars. One recurring sketch featured Rod Hull with an emu hand-puppet, which would attack any cast member that made fun of it.

By the way, for you trivia buffs, the oldest Hudson brother, Bill, is the former Mr. Goldie Hawn and father of Oscar-nominated actress Kate Hudson. Adorable Brett, the youngest, was my fave.

I glowered all day long Nov. 16 to demonstrate my displeasure at missing the program, but no one paid a lick of attention.

Before I knew it, the candle lighting bit was done and the couple's friend, Denny Thorne, was singing "The Wedding Song (There is Love)", a song I heard for the first time that hand-puppet, which would attack any cast member that made fun of it.

By the way, for you trivia buffs, the oldest Hudson brother, Bill, is the former Mr. Goldie Hawn and father of Oscar-nominated actress Kate Hudson. Adorable Brett, the youngest, was my fave.

I glowered all day long Nov. 16 to demonstrate my displeasure at missing the program, but no one paid a lick of attention.

Before I knew it, the candle lighting bit was done and the couple's friend, Denny Thorne, was singing "The Wedding Song (There is Love)", a song I heard for the first time that day that made such an impression I knew I wanted it sung at my wedding (which it was -- perhaps there is a tiny bit of romantic in me).

During the reception, I faded into the background while Bob and Sharolyn became the center of attention. At that moment, thoughts of the Hudsons and how badly I wanted to get out of that stupid dress faded and my handsome brother's smiling face shone through the crowd. I'd never felt prouder to be his little sister.

P.S. I asked Shar to give me the highlights of her big day, and here's what she had to say:

"What comes to mit day that made such an impression I knew I wanted it sung at my wedding (which it was -- perhaps there is a tiny bit of romantic in me).

During the reception, I faded into the background while Bob and Sharolyn became the center of attention. At that moment, thoughts of the Hudsons and how badly I wanted to get out of that stupid dress faded and my handsome brother's smiling face shone through the crowd. I'd never felt prouder to be his little sister.

P.S. I asked Shar to give me the highlights of her big day, and here's what she had to say:

"What comes to mind is two scared-to-death teenagers really in love, hopeful, sweet, innocent. Your bro cried when he saw me come down the aisle – said I looked like an angel. Felt like a bungee jump. We just held hands and jumped, and here we are 28 years later. We love each other more every day. Been through a lot ... but even though it rained cats and dogs that day ... the sun shone for us. Also was so funny that Mike left the door of Bob's brand new Pinto slightly ajar so he could pour boxes of rice – tons – in it. The look on Bob's face was priceless."

Julie M. Fidler is editor of the Arkansas Weekly. She may ind is two scared-to-death teenagers really in love, hopeful, sweet, innocent. Your bro cried when he saw me come down the aisle – said I looked like an angel. Felt like a bungee jump. We just held hands and jumped, and here we are 28 years later. We love each other more every day. Been through a lot ... but even though it rained cats and dogs that day ... the sun shone for us. Also was so funny that Mike left the door of Bob's brand new Pinto slightly ajar so he could pour boxes of rice – tons – in it. The look on Bob's face was priceless."
Julie M. Fidler is editor of the Arkansas Weekly. She may be reached via e-mail at [email protected].

November 6, 2002

This may take some of the Weekly's loyal readers by surprise, but here goes – this writer tends to be a bit on the obsessive side.

Yes, I know, you just can't see it. Perhaps that trait has shown when I've written about my fondness for electronics and the latest gadget or say, Davy Jones, for example. Things tend to get stuck in my mind, be reached via e-mail at [email protected].

November 6, 2002

This may take some of the Weekly's loyal readers by surprise, but here goes – this writer tends to be a bit on the obsessive side.

Yes, I know, you just can't see it. Perhaps that trait has shown when I've written about my fondness for electronics and the latest gadget or say, Davy Jones, for example. Things tend to get stuck in my mind, and I obsess on them until I overdose.

I look for information for hours on end about these obsessions and watch videotapes for a week or so until I end up exorcising them by doing something drastic, such as writing about it or driving my loved ones nuts by talking endlessly. When my sons were smaller, my youngest was certain that David Duchovny of The X-Files was going to be his stepdad. Well, perhaps I had mentioned Mulder a few times.

I never toss any of these obsessions completely aside. I come back to them, and as you know, the Monkees and Osmonds were ones I revisited r and I obsess on them until I overdose.

I look for information for hours on end about these obsessions and watch videotapes for a week or so until I end up exorcising them by doing something drastic, such as writing about it or driving my loved ones nuts by talking endlessly. When my sons were smaller, my youngest was certain that David Duchovny of The X-Files was going to be his stepdad. Well, perhaps I had mentioned Mulder a few times.

I never toss any of these obsessions completely aside. I come back to them, and as you know, the Monkees and Osmonds were ones I revisited recently. They're actually lifelong things that come to the surface now and again. Take note: I'm not fickle.

At any rate, while looking at one of Rob Grace's recent columns where he named the top five things occupying his mind, I realized I'm not the only weirdo around here.

So, you're asking, "What's this week's obsession, Julie?" Well, OK, I'll tell you.

It's William L. Petersen. Aw, c'mon. Don't tell me you don't know who my man Billy is? I'm just learning, actually. For some reason, already into the third season of CSI: Crime Scene Investigatrecently. They're actually lifelong things that come to the surface now and again. Take note: I'm not fickle.

At any rate, while looking at one of Rob Grace's recent columns where he named the top five things occupying his mind, I realized I'm not the only weirdo around here.

So, you're asking, "What's this week's obsession, Julie?" Well, OK, I'll tell you.

It's William L. Petersen. Aw, c'mon. Don't tell me you don't know who my man Billy is? I'm just learning, actually. For some reason, already into the third season of CSI: Crime Scene Investigation, I began watching it. Although my parents had been telling me for the past couple of years what a great show it is, I didn't try it out. I'm already dedicated to too many TV programs, so I didn't want to get hooked on another.

One Thursday night, after Survivor, I left the TV on CBS and accidentally watched CSI. Dang!! It happened. I'm hooked. It's an excellent program, and for me, it has taken the place of The X-Files. Mind you, it's not much like The X-Files except for being a bit creepy.

I like how CSI makes science geeks look sexy. I tion, I began watching it. Although my parents had been telling me for the past couple of years what a great show it is, I didn't try it out. I'm already dedicated to too many TV programs, so I didn't want to get hooked on another.

One Thursday night, after Survivor, I left the TV on CBS and accidentally watched CSI. Dang!! It happened. I'm hooked. It's an excellent program, and for me, it has taken the place of The X-Files. Mind you, it's not much like The X-Files except for being a bit creepy.

I like how CSI makes science geeks look sexy. I also like the way it presents things. For example, when one of the investigators describes how a bullet entered a body and lodged in a rib, we are thrown, Fantastic Voyage-style, into the body to follow the path of the bullet.

But, mainly, I like William L. Petersen.

Petersen plays Gil Grissom, the senior forensics officer at the Criminalistics Bureau in Las Vegas who heads a dedicated team of crime scene investigators. The program shows almost nothing about the personal lives of each character, and each episode contains at least one neatly wrapped up case. Every once in awhile, also like the way it presents things. For example, when one of the investigators describes how a bullet entered a body and lodged in a rib, we are thrown, Fantastic Voyage-style, into the body to follow the path of the bullet.

But, mainly, I like William L. Petersen.

Petersen plays Gil Grissom, the senior forensics officer at the Criminalistics Bureau in Las Vegas who heads a dedicated team of crime scene investigators. The program shows almost nothing about the personal lives of each character, and each episode contains at least one neatly wrapped up case. Every once in awhile, we're treated to a hint of what these investigators are like.

For example, a closing scene from "If These Walls Could Talk/Blood Drops," an episode aired on TNN's CSI: The First Season, shows Grissom about to leave the office after a long shift in which he investigated the quadruple murder of almost an entire family.

He sees a bowl of apples on a desk, picks one up and takes a bite. Next to the bowl is a newspaper, opened to a crossword puzzle. An answer seems to jump out at Grissom. He picks up the paper and pen, jots the answer into the boxes and sets the paper back down. But, we're treated to a hint of what these investigators are like.

For example, a closing scene from "If These Walls Could Talk/Blood Drops," an episode aired on TNN's CSI: The First Season, shows Grissom about to leave the office after a long shift in which he investigated the quadruple murder of almost an entire family.

He sees a bowl of apples on a desk, picks one up and takes a bite. Next to the bowl is a newspaper, opened to a crossword puzzle. An answer seems to jump out at Grissom. He picks up the paper and pen, jots the answer into the boxes and sets the paper back down. But, when he rises and starts to leave again, he looks back, sits at the desk, picks up the crossword puzzle and works it while contentedly munching on the apple. Fade to black; roll credits.

What's this tell us about our guy? Well, he's apparently got nothing to go home to. He's in no hurry. I love it.

The moment I saw Petersen that first night, I was intrigued. Not yet obsessed, but intrigued. He reminded me of a cross between the late Phil Hartman and a man I knew in another life. Soon, I was surfing the 'Net for more information.

I knew I'd seen this guy bef, when he rises and starts to leave again, he looks back, sits at the desk, picks up the crossword puzzle and works it while contentedly munching on the apple. Fade to black; roll credits.

What's this tell us about our guy? Well, he's apparently got nothing to go home to. He's in no hurry. I love it.

The moment I saw Petersen that first night, I was intrigued. Not yet obsessed, but intrigued. He reminded me of a cross between the late Phil Hartman and a man I knew in another life. Soon, I was surfing the 'Net for more information.

I knew I'd seen this guy before. Petersen was in the made-for-TV version of 12 Angry Men in 1997; he was the lead in Manhunter in 1986, the first film about Thomas Harris' novel Red Dragon; and also had a starring role in To Live and Die in L.A. in 1985, his first major movie. Those are just a few.

As I got into more and more on the Web, I learned that Petersen is from my home state, Illinois, and is also a Pisces, 10 years my senior. He has his own theater company in Chicago where he still returns to the stage.

12 Angry Men in 1997; he was the lead in Manhunter in 1986, the first film about Thomas Harris' novel Red Dragon; and also had a starring role in To Live and Die in L.A. in 1985, his first major movie. Those are just a few.

As I got into more and more on the Web, I learned that Petersen is from my home state, Illinois, and is also a Pisces, 10 years my senior. He has his own theater company in Chicago where he still returns to the stage. Fidler and Grissom

Petersen hasn't won any Emmys or Oscars, but his time has come. So far, he's gone pretty much unnoticed and underrated.

While surfing, I collected many pictures of Petersen, known as Billy to his cronies, and I littered my computer desktop with them. One of the photos I came across shows him and costar Marg Helgenberger (Catherine) posing with a TV Guide Award for Best New Series last year.

I opened Adobe Photoshop, the best computer program ever invented, and set about my evil work. Now, I'm not one to brag, but my Photoshop skills don't stink. And, head-swapping is something face="Arial">Petersen hasn't won any Emmys or Oscars, but his time has come. So far, he's gone pretty much unnoticed and underrated.

I went on to open a picture of myself, and well, the rest is history, as you can see here. Please remember as you view this picture I didn't really get to attend the awards ceremony with Billy, and he's not really clutching my waist (darn!). Also, keep in mind, this is the only fabricated image in this week's paper or any previous edition! I was just having some fun. Any pictures you've seen in other issues of me with a celebrity have been FOR REAL. I really did have the honor of meeting those obsessions.

Perhaps William L. Petersen is next?

October 30, 2002

Pumpkin carving as a fine art. That’s what I intend to write about this week. I thought I’d better state it right off the bat, seeing as how I just wandered all over the place (like Rob Grace or something) in last week’s column. Seems I tend to get a little sidetracked ...

As far back as I can remember, my family has always loved to carve pumpkins. To me, there’s nothing like the feeling of cutting out the "lid" around the stem, pluwidth="50%" size="3" color="#FF0000">

October 30, 2002

As far back as I can remember, my family has always loved to carve pumpkins. To me, there’s nothing like the feeling of cutting out the "lid" around the stem, plunging my hand into the gooey, bright orange "guts" and squishing the seeds between my fingers. Ahhh ...

Oh, sure, we started out simple with triangles for the eyes and nose and a crooked smile with a few fangs. There’s only so much you can do with a paring knife and a magic marker. But, the obsession grew and grew.

On the outskirts of our neighborhood, nestled in one of three cornfields that bordered it, stood a greenhouse. To the best of my recollection, the farmer/family who owned the greenhouse supplied a local produunging my hand into the gooey, bright orange "guts" and squishing the seeds between my fingers. Ahhh ...

On the outskirts of our neighborhood, nestled in one of three cornfields that bordered it, stood a greenhouse. To the best of my recollection, the farmer/family who owned the greenhouse supplied a local produce stand with seasonal vegetables. This, of course, included pumpkins in the fall.

One fine weekend, my brother, Mike, showed up at the house with several pumpkins of various sizes. When I asked him where he had procured these gourds, he told me about a pile of pumpkins outside said greenhouse. "I figure these are the guy’s rejects anyway," he said.

That’s when we hatched a plan. We got out the wagon (a cheapo Kmart version of a Radio Flyer), and we headed up to the greenhouse. The rest of the trip is kind of a bluuce stand with seasonal vegetables. This, of course, included pumpkins in the fall.

That’s when we hatched a plan. We got out the wagon (a cheapo Kmart version of a Radio Flyer), and we headed up to the greenhouse. The rest of the trip is kind of a blur, but I do remember the gunshots as we hightailed it back down Brookview Lane pulling our red wagon full of irregular pumpkins behind us.

We were happy with our booty and decided it was well worth the adventure. Mike got out some old newspapers and set about gutting them. He carved them all alike, with grins that would have been ear-to-ear (if they had ears), lots and lots of teeth and beady eyes. Then he displayed them up on the porch ledge from big to small. A tradition was born.

Not a Halloween has gone by that I haven’t ur, but I do remember the gunshots as we hightailed it back down Brookview Lane pulling our red wagon full of irregular pumpkins behind us.

Not a Halloween has gone by that I haven’t carved at least two jack o’lanterns. In more recent years, I’ve carved up to a dozen. In the mid-1980s, the carvings started to become intricate with the help of a company called Pumpkin Masters (at first called Carve-o-Lantern) and its carving tools. According to pumpkinmasters.com, the late Paul Bardeen of Racine, Wis., developed a safer, easier method of carving artistic pumpkins for his small children. After Bardeen died in 1983, his children decided to share his carving techniques with other American families. They improved on the technique and created the first pumpkin carving kit with instructions, patterns and tools. The carving tools are small s carved at least two jack o’lanterns. In more recent years, I’ve carved up to a dozen. In the mid-1980s, the carvings started to become intricate with the help of a company called Pumpkin Masters (at first called Carve-o-Lantern) and its carving tools. According to pumpkinmasters.com, the late Paul Bardeen of Racine, Wis., developed a safer, easier method of carving artistic pumpkins for his small children. After Bardeen died in 1983, his children decided to share his carving techniques with other American families. They improved on the technique and created the first pumpkin carving kit with instructions, patterns and tools. The carving tools are small saws.

Some of the carved pumpkins don’t look like anything with the ceiling lights on, but when you turn off the lights and put a match to the candles within, the jack o’lanterns come to life.

A few years back, I figured out how to make my own pattern, and with the help of my computer and Adobe Photoshop, I made a pattern of my oldest son. I carved it, lit it, and, by gosh, there was no mistaking it was Vincent.

Within the past year or two, Pumpkin Masters has saws.

Some of the carved pumpkins don’t look like anything with the ceiling lights on, but when you turn off the lights and put a match to the candles within, the jack o’lanterns come to life.

Within the past year or two, Pumpkin Masters has come out with sculpting tools. Using the sculpting tools, just scrape away the skin of the pumpkin rather than cutting all the way through it. With this handy little device, one can actually create an image with three shades. The uncarved area would be black, the scraped area gray, and the carved area white if the image were grayscale. I hadn’t tried the sculpting tool until a few days ago. First, I took pictures and created patterns of my two sons. Then, before tearing into one of the pumpkins and having it rot before Halloween, I made a pattern of, who else, Davy Jones, just for practice.

I w come out with sculpting tools. Using the sculpting tools, just scrape away the skin of the pumpkin rather than cutting all the way through it. With this handy little device, one can actually create an image with three shades. The uncarved area would be black, the scraped area gray, and the carved area white if the image were grayscale. I hadn’t tried the sculpting tool until a few days ago. First, I took pictures and created patterns of my two sons. Then, before tearing into one of the pumpkins and having it rot before Halloween, I made a pattern of, who else, Davy Jones, just for practice.

I wasn’t sure about it after the carving was done, but once I lit it up, it was Davy all right.

Now, I’m anxious to carve the boys. What next? I’m thinking about Van Gogh’s "Starry Night."

Julie M. Fidler is editor of the Arkansas Weekly. She may be reached by e-mail at [email protected].

October 23, 2002

Now, I’m anxious to carve the boys. What next? I’m thinking about Van Gogh’s "Starry Night."

Julie M. Fidler is editor of the Arkansas Weekly. She may be reached by e-mail at [email protected].

October 23, 2002

Remember That Kid in 4th Grade?

Being sick is no fun. That's a given.

My little family is recovering from a row with a stomach virus. As of this writing, it's not gotten around to me yet.

What I'd like to know is (and I suppose I could find it on the Internet where I find everything else), at what age does someone gain enough control over their bodily functions to make it to the toilet in time to throw up? It must be sometime after the fourth grade.

This past weekend, Nick and I were looking forward to going to ial">Remember That Kid in 4th Grade?

Being sick is no fun. That's a given.

My little family is recovering from a row with a stomach virus. As of this writing, it's not gotten around to me yet.

What I'd like to know is (and I suppose I could find it on the Internet where I find everything else), at what age does someone gain enough control over their bodily functions to make it to the toilet in time to throw up? It must be sometime after the fourth grade.

This past weekend, Nick and I were looking forward to going to the Cub/Parent Weekend at Blass Scout Reservation in Damascus. It's a twice-a-year activity we enjoy in the spring and fall. We always bring our own tent to pitch, and we partake in all the BB shooting, archery and good mess hall food. But our favorite part is probably the skits around the big bonfire on Saturday night. They're mostly just silliness with a few touching campfire songs thrown in, probably for the moms.

I'd sent off my money, the check had cleared, and we went to bed early Friday night with dreams of the fun and fellowship dancing in our minds. Two hours later, around midnight, I hear Nick moan, and the vomit spla the Cub/Parent Weekend at Blass Scout Reservation in Damascus. It's a twice-a-year activity we enjoy in the spring and fall. We always bring our own tent to pitch, and we partake in all the BB shooting, archery and good mess hall food. But our favorite part is probably the skits around the big bonfire on Saturday night. They're mostly just silliness with a few touching campfire songs thrown in, probably for the moms.

I'd sent off my money, the check had cleared, and we went to bed early Friday night with dreams of the fun and fellowship dancing in our minds. Two hours later, around midnight, I hear Nick moan, and the vomit splashes onto the carpeted floor beside the bed where I'm sleeping. See, the three of us were staked out at my folks' house. The two boys were on the floor, and big brother was going to stay with Grandma and Grandpa while we camped.

I was up with the little fella, who chose to sleep on the linoleum next to the toilet, for the next 6-7 hours. After that, he had a fever all day. No camp out, no fun, no refunds. Mourning all round.

Poor Nick was the one who christened the new tent this past spring by barfing up the countless hot dogs and s'mores he scarfed down for supper. That was preceded by &quoashes onto the carpeted floor beside the bed where I'm sleeping. See, the three of us were staked out at my folks' house. The two boys were on the floor, and big brother was going to stay with Grandma and Grandpa while we camped.

I was up with the little fella, who chose to sleep on the linoleum next to the toilet, for the next 6-7 hours. After that, he had a fever all day. No camp out, no fun, no refunds. Mourning all round.

Poor Nick was the one who christened the new tent this past spring by barfing up the countless hot dogs and s'mores he scarfed down for supper. That was preceded by "Oooohh -- I think I'm gonna puke." And he didn't make it to the porta potty inside the tent.

Gosh, I apologize for this tasteless column, but I realize it's something every parent deals with. It's also something I remember vividly from my childhood.

I can clearly remember the peanut brittle incident at age 6 or so and the Beanie Weenies episode at 9. I also vividly recall who threw up and when in grade school.

Last names will be omitted to protect the ill. In fourth grade, near Halloween time, we were making papier mach� masks. We were paired up, and fot;Oooohh -- I think I'm gonna puke." And he didn't make it to the porta potty inside the tent.

Gosh, I apologize for this tasteless column, but I realize it's something every parent deals with. It's also something I remember vividly from my childhood.

I can clearly remember the peanut brittle incident at age 6 or so and the Beanie Weenies episode at 9. I also vividly recall who threw up and when in grade school.

Last names will be omitted to protect the ill. In fourth grade, near Halloween time, we were making papier mach� masks. We were paired up, and for once, I was matched with (heavy sigh) that dreamy Tim H. He had big, chocolate-colored eyes, like a Cocker Spaniel's; his long, straight, shiny brown hair in a shag cut; and beautiful pouty lips. He reminded me of Jack Wild, the kid who played Jimmy on H.R. Pufnstuf.

At any rate, we'd had chili in the lunch room. Mossville Grade School's chili was like rusty red hot water with kidney beans here and there. The meat appeared to be some form of browned stuff, broken into soupspoon-size lumps, which floated in our standard issue hard plastic bowls atop the red watery liquid.

Art wfor once, I was matched with (heavy sigh) that dreamy Tim H. He had big, chocolate-colored eyes, like a Cocker Spaniel's; his long, straight, shiny brown hair in a shag cut; and beautiful pouty lips. He reminded me of Jack Wild, the kid who played Jimmy on H.R. Pufnstuf.

Art was right after recess, which followed lunch of course. We'd made my mask the day before, and today it was my turn to help with Tim's by placing the wet, gooey strips of newspaper onto his angelic face. It was a joy, and I especially liked looking through the mask holes at his big brown eyes. That didn't last.

I covered his entire face, and Tim had to cease talking while the papier mach� dried. That was when I saw the fear in those dreamy eyes. Something inside his torso moved, kinda like I would see in the movie Alien several years later. Next thing I knew, adorable Tim was spewing that awful "chili" through the mowas right after recess, which followed lunch of course. We'd made my mask the day before, and today it was my turn to help with Tim's by placing the wet, gooey strips of newspaper onto his angelic face. It was a joy, and I especially liked looking through the mask holes at his big brown eyes. That didn't last.

Then, there was Laura K. who threw up her toast crusts (I don't know how or why just the crusts) during a Girl Scout meeting in the cafeteria after school.

I never threw up in a school building, thank goodness. I wouldn't want to be featured in someone's column.

* * *

On a much nicer note, a big thanks to Lisa Bates, Renee Ramsey and WRD's own Gene Stewart for giving me buckeyes and information about some beautiful trees that can be grown in ououth hole of his paper mask. Crush over. Finis.

Then, there was Laura K. who threw up her toast crusts (I don't know how or why just the crusts) during a Girl Scout meeting in the cafeteria after school.

I never threw up in a school building, thank goodness. I wouldn't want to be featured in someone's column.

* * *

On a much nicer note, a big thanks to Lisa Bates, Renee Ramsey and WRD's own Gene Stewart for giving me buckeyes and information about some beautiful trees that can be grown in our area!

Julie M. Fidler is editor of the Arkansas Weekly. She may be reached by e-mail at [email protected].

October 16, 2002

Remembering Favorite Jeans

A pair of Hard Core jeans is tacked to the bedroom wall with a pushpin. There's nothing naughty about them – Hard Core is the brand name, like Levi's or Lee or Wrangler.

They look like they'd fit someone really slim, and they did at one time. It'ur area!

Julie M. Fidler is editor of the Arkansas Weekly. She may be reached by e-mail at [email protected].

October 16, 2002

Remembering Favorite Jeans

A pair of Hard Core jeans is tacked to the bedroom wall with a pushpin. There's nothing naughty about them – Hard Core is the brand name, like Levi's or Lee or Wrangler.

They look like they'd fit someone really slim, and they did at one time. It's been almost 18 years, about 55 pounds and two babies since they sat folded in a suitcase on an airplane over the Atlantic. Jiminy Cricket. Has it been that long? Will they ever be worn again? Maybe not. But one can hope (and try).

We won't tell the size here, but we will say they're peg-legged and very trim. I was spending January 1985 in London, England, with probably around 25 other Arkansas College students who were taking the "JanTerm" course, History of London. We studied here for about a week on the AC campus, and then we were off to see what we'd only read about in a textbook. It was an awesome experience 's been almost 18 years, about 55 pounds and two babies since they sat folded in a suitcase on an airplane over the Atlantic. Jiminy Cricket. Has it been that long? Will they ever be worn again? Maybe not. But one can hope (and try).

Anyway, in between the scheduled museum stops and other visits to historic sites, we were allowed some free time for perhaps a production at Piccadilly Circus or a bus ride to the English countryside. Shopping is what we female-types were interested in, of course, and Carnaby Street was the place.

At that time, the dollar was very strong, and we were getting about a British pound for each one or just a little less. It was easy to buy lots of leather and China or just about anything and find a good deal on it. On Carnaby Street, home of all the hip shops and pubs, I bought a couple pairs of cool leather shoes the likes of which I'd never seen in the States. But, being a blue jeans collector, that's what I was searching for.

Levi's were nowhere to be found, and I wouldn't have bought them anyway because I wanted to get something I couldn't get in America. I tried on several pairs of jeans in one of the shops and fell in love with those Hard Core Jeans. I've never found a fit like that anywhere since. When I put them on, it was like Superman's cape or something for me. I was invincible.

With each kid, I gained 50 pounds. That put me out of p shops and pubs, I bought a couple pairs of cool leather shoes the likes of which I'd never seen in the States. But, being a blue jeans collector, that's what I was searching for.

With each kid, I gained 50 pounds. That put me out of those jeans for quite sometime. However, with a great deal of determination, exercise and proper diet, I got back into the Hard Cores each time, albeit a little more slowly after the second child. After the second one, I took up walking, then running, then running races. Then, something happened …

I don't know exactly how, but one day I woke up fat. It happened at 35. Suddenly, the Hard Cores got smaller and smaller. So did my entire jean collection. I'm now down to three pairs I can squeeze into on a good day – two pairs of Levi's (my favorite brand) and, as much a I hate to say it, one from the "fat lady" those jeans for quite sometime. However, with a great deal of determination, exercise and proper diet, I got back into the Hard Cores each time, albeit a little more slowly after the second child. After the second one, I took up walking, then running, then running races. Then, something happened …

I don't know exactly how, but one day I woke up fat. It happened at 35. Suddenly, the Hard Cores got smaller and smaller. So did my entire jean collection. I'm now down to three pairs I can squeeze into on a good day – two pairs of Levi's (my favorite brand) and, as much a I hate to say it, one from the "fat lady" store in the mall. Used to, I wouldn't buy anything BUT Levi's, but these fat lady jeans are pretty dang comfortable. However, I refuse to buy anything bigger.

Julie M. Fidler is editor of the Arkansas store in the mall. Used to, I wouldn't buy anything BUT Levi's, but these fat lady jeans are pretty dang comfortable. However, I refuse to buy anything bigger.

Ya know, this column started out as the result of a conversation with my office mate, Stacy, about our favorite kinds of blue jeans through the years. I intended to talk with you about that and even contribute a brief history of American blue jeans in their various incarnations, but now I've used up my space with Hard Core. Sorry about that. I'll get on that other thing right away. … Ahem.

Julie M. Fidler is editor of the Arkansas Weekly. She may be reached at [email protected]

October 2, 2002

Hopping on my bike's banana seat and going for a ride in the neighborhood on a fall weekend day, not a cloud in the sky and a crisp smell and feel in the air. That's what I've been thinking about since fall officially arrived.

October 2, 2002

Hopping on my bike's banana seat and going for a ride in the neighborhood on a fall weekend day, not a cloud in the sky and a crisp smell and feel in the air. That's what I've been thinking about since fall officially arrived.

Hunting for buckeyes, rustling in the dry creek bed through a foot of crunchy, colorful fall leaves. Buckeyes grew all along the creek behind our house in a Wonder Years-type neighborhood just north of the Peoria city limits. My brother, Mike, and I would pluck them from the trees, marveling at their thick, prickly husks in our hands before digging in a fingernail and pulling off the shell along one of its seams.

Inside, the fresh buckeye was covered in a downy sheath. Under that was the most beautiful, shiny doo-dad I've ever seen. Sometimes, there are up to three "seeds" in a husk.

You can't eat 'em – they're poisonous to us. They are, however, eaten by squirrels. Mike and I would mainly collect them and keep one in our pockets. The oil from our hands and the cotton fabric of our pockets would make rother, Mike, and I would pluck them from the trees, marveling at their thick, prickly husks in our hands before digging in a fingernail and pulling off the shell along one of its seams.

Inside, the fresh buckeye was covered in a downy sheath. Under that was the most beautiful, shiny doo-dad I've ever seen. Sometimes, there are up to three "seeds" in a husk.

A few years ago, my Uncle Carl, who still lives in central Illinois, told me the Forestry Service (or some other agency) was encouraging people to grow the trees because they are becoming scarce. The bark and seeds contain a narcotic chemical that is poisonous to cattle. As a result, many farmers have removed the trees from their pastures.

The trees are not particularly ornamental, nor are their flowers spectacular. But they hide the secret of the beautiful fruit that I'm certain brings good luck. They also provide great shade and a wonderful spot for a tree h them even shinier and prettier.

I can't seem to find any buckeye trees at nurseries in Arkansas. In doing some research on the 'Net, I came to find out that the trees in my childhood neighborhood were Ohio Buckeyes. What we have here in Arkansas are likely Red Buckeyes or Yellow Buckeyes. The main difference appears to be in the husk. While both are enclosed in a thick husk, the Ohio variety husk is spiny, although the spines are small. The Yellow Buckeye and Red Buckeye husks are smooth. All are about 1 1/2 to 2 inches in diameter.

The Ohio buckeye wood is soft, close grained and weak. It's used for furniture and pulpwood.

The National Arbor Day Foundation looks like a good place to buy a Yellow Buckeye tree, which can be grown in our hardiness zone. It grows best in full sun. Yellow flowers appear in May, and dark green summer leaves turn brilliant pumpkin-colored in the fall. Members of the Arbor Day Foundation can get them for about 7 bucks, and non-members pay ten and a half, plus shipping. Check it out at www.arborday.org.

The Ohio buckeye wood is soft, close grained and weak. It's used for furniture and pulpwood.

If you have found a fresh buckeye seed, you can try to grow the tree yourself. I've never had any luck.

Ohio Division of Forestry gives the following advice for planting your own:

"Collect your seeds from the ground soon after they fall and remove them from the husk. Take extra care not to let them dry out. Do not pull seed pods from the tree before the buckeyes have ripened.

"The seed should be planted in the fall at about a 3-inch depth in loose, well-worked soil. Plant more buckeyes than you will need since only about 50 percent of them will gel">If you have found a fresh buckeye seed, you can try to grow the tree yourself. I've never had any luck.

Ohio Division of Forestry gives the following advice for planting your own:

"Collect your seeds from the ground soon after they fall and remove them from the husk. Take extra care not to let them dry out. Do not pull seed pods from the tree before the buckeyes have ripened.

"The seed should be planted in the fall at about a 3-inch depth in loose, well-worked soil. Plant more buckeyes than you will need since only about 50 percent of them will germinate. Place two to three inches of mulch over the top of buckeyes.

"Keep the soil moist but not wet until after the seed has germinated. Then apply water as needed to maintain about one inch per week. Lightly fertilize with a balanced fertilizer once per month. Stop water and fertilizer by mid-August to allow the seedling sufficient time to harden off before winter.

"Squirrels have a tendency to dig up the seeds. You can put a screen mesh over the planted seeds before covering them with mulch and remove it in the spring when you remove the mulch."

Last fall, because my boys and I couldn't find any buckeyes in our neck of the woods, we made our own tasty treat that looks almost like the real thing, but isn't poisonous!

This recipe is from Mr. Food, as seen on KAIT-8 in Jonesboro:

Buckeyes

2 cups smooth peanut butter

1 cup (2 sticks) butter, softened

1 1/2 lb. confectioners' sugar

1 pkg.(12 oz.) semisweet chocolate chips

1/3 cake paraf"Arial">Last fall, because my boys and I couldn't find any buckeyes in our neck of the woods, we made our own tasty treat that looks almost like the real thing, but isn't poisonous!

This recipe is from Mr. Food, as seen on KAIT-8 in Jonesboro:

Buckeyes

2 cups smooth peanut butter

1 cup (2 sticks) butter, softened

1 1/2 lb. confectioners' sugar

1 pkg.(12 oz.) semisweet chocolate chips

1/3 cake paraffin wax

In a large bowl, combine the peanut butter and butter; mix until smooth. Gradually add the confectioners' sugar, stirring until thoroughly mixed. Form the mixture into 1-inch balls, place on a waxed paper-lined rimmed baking sheet and chill for 1 hour.

In a double boiler over medium heat, or in a saucepan over low heat, melt the chocolate chips and paraffin wax, stirring until smooth. Stick a toothpick in the center of each peanut butter ball and dip each three-quarters of the way into the chocolate mixture, coating all sides except the top quarter. Place on the waxed paper-lined rimffin wax

After dipping all the peanut butter balls, cover, and chill or freeze until ready to serve.

Julie M. Fidler is editor of the Arkansas Weekly. She may be reached by e-mail at [email protected].

September, 25, 2002

Davy Jones Knows I Exist! Sigh

On Sept. 14 I rekindled an old flame. And it feels all warm ammed baking sheet and remove the toothpick. Using your finger, fill in the hole left by the toothpick.

After dipping all the peanut butter balls, cover, and chill or freeze until ready to serve.

Julie M. Fidler is editor of the Arkansas Weekly. She may be reached by e-mail at [email protected].

September, 25, 2002

Davy Jones Knows I Exist! Sigh

On Sept. 14 I rekindled an old flame. And it feels all warm and fuzzy.

Actually, it began burning again when I talked to him on the phone nine days before that. It was the first time I'd ever heard him utter my name in my ear.

Davy Jones. *sigh* He even took down my address and invited me to "hang out" backstage.

Actually, it began burning again when I talked to him on the phone nine days before that. It was the first time I'd ever heard him utter my name in my ear.

Davy Jones. *sigh* He even took down my address and invited me to "hang out" backstage.

"She Hangs Out" is among my top three or five favorite Monkees songs, and was probably my number one when the love affair began in the '60s. I was three years old when the show debuted. I remember imagining Davy singing the song to my older brothers, Mike and Bob. "How old d'you say your sister was? (sister was, sister was) You know you'd better keep an eye on her (eye on her, eye on her) do da rond da rond day, do da rond de rond, She hangs out …"

The Monkees was one program the three of us watched together between 1966-68. It was one I could enjoy without fear of ribbing – unlike my other favorite program, Batman. Every time I'd tune in to that and Robin would say something like "Holy men in tights!", Mike or Bob would run to the kitchen, return with a big Tupperware bowl and place it on the floor in front of the television set's speaker. What for? Why, to catch the cour sister was? (sister was, sister was) You know you'd better keep an eye on her (eye on her, eye on her) do da rond da rond day, do da rond de rond, She hangs out …"

Both brothers were at least as big a fan of the Monkees as I was. But, we each had our favorite. Davy was mine. Was there any other choice? In his own words a couple weeks ago, he told me he was "the cute one with the stars in his eyes who got the girls." I told him I liked him best because he was cute and little, and so was I. He still is. Bob liked Micky best because he was a drummer and so is Bob; Mike liked Peter best because … well, I have no idea.

For Christmases 1966 and '67 Santa brought me a tambourine and maracas. I figured, if I ever mcorn coming from the TV, of course!

For Christmases 1966 and '67 Santa brought me a tambourine and maracas. I figured, if I ever met Davy, I'd impress him by playing them. I did get to meet Davy face to face last weekend. I no longer have those musical instruments, and I'm no longer small. At age 56, he looked just like he should. He was adorable and friendly. He spoke with his Manchester brogue. He wore a soft sweater, had distinguished graying hair and little rimless spectacles. As I'm getting within months of turning 40, he was everything I dreamed he'd be; and for just about three hours in Searcy, Ark., that night, it was 1968 again. Sigh.

Julie M. Fidler is editor of the Arkansas Weekly. She may be reached by e-mail at [email protected].

September 18, 2002

Pubescent Boys: Scary, But Lovable

There's nothing quite as frightening as a pubescent boy.

Never having been one, I've not been real sure what is "normal" for these types. Granted, I did have two older brothers, but who pays attention to them?

Recently on The Learning Channel, I watched a show called Teen Species. It consisted of three parts -- focusing an hour each

September 18, 2002

Pubescent Boys: Scary, But Lovable

There's nothing quite as frightening as a pubescent boy.

Never having been one, I've not been real sure what is "normal" for these types. Granted, I did have two older brothers, but who pays attention to them?

Recently on The Learning Channel, I watched a show called Teen Species. It consisted of three parts -- focusing an hour each on girls, boys and changes affecting both. It was quite helpful.

The growth spurt starts from the outside of the body first and works its way in. For example, a boy's hands and feet are the first to expand. This became apparent to me at the beginning of last school year when my then-12-year-old suddenly was wearing the same size shoes as his grandfather. And his hands were suddenly awkward-looking and huge!

According to the British Broadcasting Company, which co-produced Teen Species, the arms and legs grow longer next. The "outside-in" rule still applies in that the shin bones lengthen before the thigh, and the forearm before the upper arm. This explains my son looking like a not-so-hairy version of the orangutan that starred with Clint Eastwood in Any Which Way But Loose.

Next, the spine grows. The very last expansion is a broadening of the chest and shoulders in boys. Don't guess we've reached that yet.

I don't know about your 13-year-old boy, but mine seems to be extremely clumsy (sorry kid). Well, this tends to become very frustrating for a mother when things are continually spilled, dropped and tipped over. And I'm sure it's frustrating for the kid who seems to run ngthen before the thigh, and the forearm before the upper arm. This explains my son looking like a not-so-hairy version of the orangutan that starred with Clint Eastwood in Any Which Way But Loose.

Next, the spine grows. The very last expansion is a broadening of the chest and shoulders in boys. Don't guess we've reached that yet.

It was nice to learn that it's not just my kid. The BBC's Web site says, "Many teenagers shoot up so fast that their brains cannot keep up. As their height increases, their center of gravity lifts. This happens so quickly that the brain does not get a chance to calculate the new rules for balancing. Clumsiness is often unavoidable."

The BBC says the average boy is growing fastest between 14 and 15, and girls start earlier, growing fastest around 12 and 13. Girls also end their growth spurts earlier, around 18, while boys need another two years before they fi into things and fall a lot.

In four years, according to the BBC, the average teenage boy will grow a foot taller, put on 14 pounds of muscle, drop an octave in the pitch of his voice and develop 40 percent more heart muscle.

About boys and muscles, the BBC says, "Boys' muscles go through a phase of rapid development which girls miss out on. Our muscles are made up of fibers. At puberty in boys, these fibers don't increase in number, but the length and width of existing muscle fibers increainish growing at age 20. So, we have another 6 or 7 years? Ugh! The filling out of the torso supposedly happens around 20.

In four years, according to the BBC, the average teenage boy will grow a foot taller, put on 14 pounds of muscle, drop an octave in the pitch of his voice and develop 40 percent more heart muscle.

"Testosterone increases the amount of hemoglobin carried in red blood cells. Hemoglobin is the oxygen-carrying red pigment in red blood cells. Higher levels of hemoglobin enable red blood cells to deliver more oxygen to muscles. This oxygen is used to create energy for muscles to exercise. As a result, teenage boys become fitter and stronger than they have ever been before."

When I was pregnant, and when my boys were newborns and toddlers, I was up on the growth stuff. There are so many parenting magazines out there, and I think I subscribed to most of them. However, when kids getases.

So, I'm grateful for the BBC and TLC for informing me.

I can also tell you this: If you can get past the way your rapidly changing son looks and sounds, you will realize that he's a very lovable and loving young man. It's a good time to let him know how much you love and appreciate him.

Julie M. Fidler is editor of the Arkansas Weekly. She may be reached by e-mail at [email protected].

September, 4, 2002

So, I'm grateful for the BBC and TLC for informing me.

I can also tell you this: If you can get past the way your rapidly changing son looks and sounds, you will realize that he's a very lovable and loving young man. It's a good time to let him know how much you love and appreciate him.

Julie M. Fidler is editor of the Arkansas Weekly. She may be reached by e-mail at [email protected].

September, 4, 2002

Soccer Mom

Yup, yours truly.

You hear that term, soccer mom, thrown around a lot these days. I tried to do some research, and really, it doesn't have one specific definition.

Everyone seemed to agree during the 1996 presidential election that soccer moms were overwhelmingly white and live in the suburbs. Well, I guess I meet one of those criteria. That is, unless you would call Batesville a suburb of Little Rock, Jonesboro or Memphis. No, that doesn't work.

Soccer Mom

Yup, yours truly.

You hear that term, soccer mom, thrown around a lot these days. I tried to do some research, and really, it doesn't have one specific definition.

Everyone seemed to agree during the 1996 presidential election that soccer moms were overwhelmingly white and live in the suburbs. Well, I guess I meet one of those criteria. That is, unless you would call Batesville a suburb of Little Rock, Jonesboro or Memphis. No, that doesn't work.

In her column in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, Sally Kalson covered it pretty well by saying, "You don't need to have a kid in soccer to be a soccer mom. All you need is some combination of the following: a kid or kids; a paying job; a non-paying job; three places you're supposed to be at the same time; less than six hours sleep a night; the chronic sense that whatever you're doing, it isn't enough, and wherever you are, you should be someplace else."

That's me!

My youngest son, now 9 and a half years old, has been wanting to be a team player for a long time now. T

That's me!

My youngest son, now 9 and a half years old, has been wanting to be a team player for a long time now. The two sports that grabbed his interest most were baseball and soccer. I couldn't sign him up for Little League because he wouldn't be around to play some of the games. The moment school lets out for the summer, he goes to stay with his dad and stepmom.

When he pestered me about soccer last year, he was quite involved in Cub Scouts, and I couldn't see how he could be in both. Each time I had contact with him over this summer, he asked me if I'd signed him up for soccer yet.

So, the time came, and signed up he was. Now, with three practices under his belt, he's raring to go. When I asked him who The two sports that grabbed his interest most were baseball and soccer. I couldn't sign him up for Little League because he wouldn't be around to play some of the games. The moment school lets out for the summer, he goes to stay with his dad and stepmom.

So, the time came, and signed up he was. Now, with three practices under his belt, he's raring to go. When I asked him who his favorite player was, he said, "Sammy Sosa." Oh well. ...

Nick is pretty unique in that organized sports doesn't necessarily run in his blood, especially not contact sports. With a waist measuring about 21 inches and an inseam five inches longer, I'm afraid an opposing playing is going to snap him like a twig.

The only one on my side of the family who's been interested in playing team sports is me. Neither of my older brothers was very sporty. Mike always had his head under a car hood, and Bob was usually perched behind a set of drums.

I wanted t his favorite player was, he said, "Sammy Sosa." Oh well. ...

I wanted to play baseball. But, girls weren't allowed. Lord knows I tried. By the time I got into fifth or sixth grade, softball was offered for girls, and I signed up.

The coach happened to be our cute band instructor. I played for one season, but by the time the next spring rolled around with another softball season, I was diagnosed with a thyroid disease that would keep me out of sports and P.E. from then on through high school.

Nick's father was on a swimming team when he was a kid, and did quite well.

So, although I don't know if I actually fit what the term to play baseball. But, girls weren't allowed. Lord knows I tried. By the time I got into fifth or sixth grade, softball was offered for girls, and I signed up.

Nick's father was on a swimming team when he was a kid, and did quite well.

So, although I don't know if I actually fit what the term "soccer mom" brings to mind, literally I am one.

That means I'll be carting him back and forth several times a week (no, I don't have a minivan -- although I'd like one), and I'll bring my lawn chair, mosquito repellent and a jug of cold water. I'll holler when he makes a good play (if I recognize it), and I'll let him know how much I love him before and after every game.

August 28, 2002

We apparently have some sort of doorway to another dimension in our house.

It especially "soccer mom" brings to mind, literally I am one.

August 28, 2002

We apparently have some sort of doorway to another dimension in our house.

It especially likes milk jug lids, vacuum cleaner filters and socks. Now, the sock thing is kind of common in other households, so that doesn't surprise me. And, the vacuum filter -- I didn't watch that disappear. So, it could've been a cat-related incident.

However, the milk lid -- it was sucked into thin air. Well, sorta. I was standing at the kitchen counter. My kitchen is just a small turn-around area, not really much of a kitchen at all. In fact, I hate it. I don't know if that has anything to do with the doorway to another dimension or not.

At any rate, I had just gotten the boys' whole milk out of the likes milk jug lids, vacuum cleaner filters and socks. Now, the sock thing is kind of common in other households, so that doesn't surprise me. And, the vacuum filter -- I didn't watch that disappear. So, it could've been a cat-related incident.

At any rate, I had just gotten the boys' whole milk out of the fridge. Getting something out of the fridge and placing it on the counter requires only a 360-degree swirl on one's heels.

I swirled and placed it on the countertop, pulled off the red plastic lid (the jug had already been opened). And, then, I dropped the lid. I looked at the floor by my feet, and the bright red lid was not there. I looked at the countertop, and it was not there. I dropped to my knees and examined the dust bunnies along the cabinets and the refrigerator -- not there. Looked between the fridge and the cabinet next to it. Nope.

Well, dang it. I called in backup. Vincent, fridge. Getting something out of the fridge and placing it on the counter requires only a 360-degree swirl on one's heels.

Well, dang it. I called in backup. Vincent, my oldest son, slithered around all five square feet of kitchen floor.

The milk lid never materialized. Odd indeed.

* * *

You know, last week Rob Grace wrote in his column, "All Over the Map," about a snake with whom he made friends. Other than that, he's as big of a snake fraidy pants as I am.

And, no, I'm not the employee who lost his or her continence. I'm the one who went unmentioned who cut the heck out of her right big toe. That's right. I was in the Weekly offic, my oldest son, slithered around all five square feet of kitchen floor.

The milk lid never materialized. Odd indeed.

* * *

You know, last week Rob Grace wrote in his column, "All Over the Map," about a snake with whom he made friends. Other than that, he's as big of a snake fraidy pants as I am.

And, no, I'm not the employee who lost his or her continence. I'm the one who went unmentioned who cut the heck out of her right big toe. That's right. I was in the Weekly office's doorway when I saw Rob coming down the hallway with that stupid thing.

I quickly grabbed the doorknob to slam and lock the door when the corner of it took a chunk out of my toe.

All of this reminded me of another snake experience from almost exactly 20 years ago. I was about to start my first year as an Arkansas College student and media arts major.

My parents lived in Pleasant Grove at the time. Dad spent a lot of time before school started, trying to make sure my 1973 Chevrolet Monte Carlo could take the daily drive back and forth to campus. That incluce's doorway when I saw Rob coming down the hallway with that stupid thing.

I quickly grabbed the doorknob to slam and lock the door when the corner of it took a chunk out of my toe.

All of this reminded me of another snake experience from almost exactly 20 years ago. I was about to start my first year as an Arkansas College student and media arts major.

My parents lived in Pleasant Grove at the time. Dad spent a lot of time before school started, trying to make sure my 1973 Chevrolet Monte Carlo could take the daily drive back and forth to campus. That included a new exhaust system, front wheel alignment, a new set of shocks, a fresh coat of wax, an oil change and even a cassette player.

Next, we wanted to find out how much time to allow to get to campus.

Now, some folks know I kept a journal faithfully for a big portion of my days. On Wednesday, Sept. 1, 1982, I wrote (in part): "Mom, Dad and I made a test run to A.C. Stuff went fine on way over. ... Get this -- on the way back, a snake came out from under the windshield wipers on my - driver's - side, & was starting to slither into my open window! Dad grabbed the wheel & we pulled ovuded a new exhaust system, front wheel alignment, a new set of shocks, a fresh coat of wax, an oil change and even a cassette player.

Next, we wanted to find out how much time to allow to get to campus.

Now, some folks know I kept a journal faithfully for a big portion of my days. On Wednesday, Sept. 1, 1982, I wrote (in part): "Mom, Dad and I made a test run to A.C. Stuff went fine on way over. ... Get this -- on the way back, a snake came out from under the windshield wipers on my - driver's - side, & was starting to slither into my open window! Dad grabbed the wheel & we pulled over & bailed out quickly! It sank back into the engine compartment. I made Dad drive home. We haven't seen the snake since."

August 21, 2002

Editor's Note: I've gotten a few responses from recent "Reminiscin'" columns. I thought I'd share them here and respond. I didn't realize I'd said anything conver & bailed out quickly! It sank back into the engine compartment. I made Dad drive home. We haven't seen the snake since."

I can remember sitting in the front passenger seat, with my legs folded up underneath me and my eyes on the car hood. And , I'll never forget that sucker's beady eyes, staring at me as it flicked its forked tongue in my direction.

August 21, 2002

Editor's Note: I've gotten a few responses from recent "Reminiscin'" columns. I thought I'd share them here and respond. I didn't realize I'd said anything controversial in my silly columns, but apparently some readers have a different opinion.

Dear Editor:

In regard to your column on July 31, 2002, (Actor's Smoking Gives Station Hotfoot); I disagree that anyone could blow smoke in your face, at anytime. I have read and enjoyed your articles before, but this one got a little close. As I was reading your article it brought to mind a book that I had read about the Columbine shootings called, Rachel's Tears. In your article you stated that; "If someone is so weak and lacking a strong enough will that they're going to tell themselves, 'I fntroversial in my silly columns, but apparently some readers have a different opinion.

Dear Editor:

In regard to your column on July 31, 2002, (Actor's Smoking Gives Station Hotfoot); I disagree that anyone could blow smoke in your face, at anytime. I have read and enjoyed your articles before, but this one got a little close. As I was reading your article it brought to mind a book that I had read about the Columbine shootings called, Rachel's Tears. In your article you stated that; "If someone is so weak and lacking a strong enough will that they're going to tell themselves, 'I feel compelled to smoke because it might make me look cool like Russell Crowe,' then we shouldn't be burdened with them."

I believe that we should be burdened with "them" as much and as often as possible. Whether it is about smoking, drugs, alcohol or anything that could harm them. I believe that the parents of all of those children, not only at the Columbine school but elsewhere, would love to have the chance to "be burdened with them" again. It is an "image issue" that we all have to deal with daily. I really don't think we have the time or the luxury of being "wishy-washy."

As I get older (51); I find that I'm getting more fired up about things than I use to. For instance; I have never written to a newspaper before. I have made my share of mistakes and then some. If this is another mistake that only means I'm still breathing. One other thing that I believe, is that you are "likely to change issues" with the position that you hold. Of course your position with the paper makes it easy for me to shoot these fiery darts. At any rate, I hope that your opinion might this time be "ridiculously easy to change." I also hope that I haven't burdened you with all this!

Thank you for your time. I do agree to disagree, but I was also serious about enjoying your articles. An' I ain't just blowin' smoke!

Jerry R. Hull, Mountain View

Jerry -- I'm honored to receive the only letter you've written to a newspaper.. OK, you mentioned Columbine and changed my opinion (see how easy that was?). I guess just because I was strong enough when I was a kid to decide against smoking and stick to it, not all youngsters are. It'd be my luck to write some stupid column about it and have one of my own sons be caught smokin' in the boys' room. Thanks for saying yce="Arial">Thank you for your time. I do agree to disagree, but I was also serious about enjoying your articles. An' I ain't just blowin' smoke!

Jerry R. Hull, Mountain View

Jerry -- I'm honored to receive the only letter you've written to a newspaper.. OK, you mentioned Columbine and changed my opinion (see how easy that was?). I guess just because I was strong enough when I was a kid to decide against smoking and stick to it, not all youngsters are. It'd be my luck to write some stupid column about it and have one of my own sons be caught smokin' in the boys' room. Thanks for saying you enjoy my articles. Your opinion (and your letter) are appreciated. Oh, and I'll consider asking Russell to stop if he ever blows smoke in my face, although he can eat crackers in my bed anytime. :)

Dear Editor:

Like you, I am a big fan of Russell Crowe, and I thoroughly enjoyed your column re his smoking.

Before I go any further, I just want to say that you are only one of two people that I know who have ever used the line about the price of tea in China, and I was somewhat surprised when I heard that line in The Insider.

Dear Editor:

Like you, I am a big fan of Russell Crowe, and I thoroughly enjoyed your column re his smoking.

Before I go any further, I just want to say that you are only one of two people that I know who have ever used the line about the price of tea in China, and I was somewhat surprised when I heard that line in The Insider.

Anyway, I, too, am not a smoker and totally support the anti-smoking laws since this habit effects not only the smoker, but also people around him/her.

However, I don't hassle anyone about their habit because I figure they are adults and are well informed about the dangers of smoking.

I think the brouhaha over Russell smoking on TV was blown way out of proportion. Big deal. So what. I don't like seeing him smoke because I want him to be around for a very, very long time and to continue turning out his unbelievably outstanding performances. But this is part of who he is. It would seem to mece="Arial">Anyway, I, too, am not a smoker and totally support the anti-smoking laws since this habit effects not only the smoker, but also people around him/her.

However, I don't hassle anyone about their habit because I figure they are adults and are well informed about the dangers of smoking.

I think the brouhaha over Russell smoking on TV was blown way out of proportion. Big deal. So what. I don't like seeing him smoke because I want him to be around for a very, very long time and to continue turning out his unbelievably outstanding performances. But this is part of who he is. It would seem to me that the ABA should be more concerned about other things that might be shown on TV in Australia rather than this smoking incident. I'm sure that, like American TV, there is a certain amount of sex and gratuitous violence being shown, and to me, that is more harmful to minors than seeing Russell light up.

He has admitted that he's been smoking since he was 10 years old and realizes that he is addicted to it. I just wish that the knowledge he gained about smoking while making The Insider would have helped him quit smoking. I just hope that he doesn't end up with a life-threatening illness to get his attention about smokine that the ABA should be more concerned about other things that might be shown on TV in Australia rather than this smoking incident. I'm sure that, like American TV, there is a certain amount of sex and gratuitous violence being shown, and to me, that is more harmful to minors than seeing Russell light up.

He has admitted that he's been smoking since he was 10 years old and realizes that he is addicted to it. I just wish that the knowledge he gained about smoking while making The Insider would have helped him quit smoking. I just hope that he doesn't end up with a life-threatening illness to get his attention about smoking. He is such an extraordinarily talented actor, and I would hate to see his career cut short because of his smoking.

Finally, the one question that will never be answered is that if it had been an average person lighting up instead of Russell, would there have been any complaints? Probably not.

Martha Reed, St. Petersburg, Fla.

Martha -- You go girl!

Dear Editor,

This letter is in response to the article in the Aug. 7, 2002, Weekly. The article was titled "Danger!ng. He is such an extraordinarily talented actor, and I would hate to see his career cut short because of his smoking.

Finally, the one question that will never be answered is that if it had been an average person lighting up instead of Russell, would there have been any complaints? Probably not.

Martha Reed, St. Petersburg, Fla.

Martha -- You go girl!

Dear Editor,

This letter is in response to the article in the Aug. 7, 2002, Weekly. The article was titled "Danger! You Don't want to Hear Me Sing."

The joy of singing is not about whether or not you can sing or where someone thinks you sound good or not. The joy of singing is just being able to enjoy doing it period.

Also, if you lip-sync in church then you might want to really look at who you are singing for when you are in church. You aren't there to sing for everyone around you, you are there to sing for the glory of God! He loves to hear our praises no matter what we sound like. Why would you want to spare someone's ears instead of praising the Lord?

When I firs! You Don't want to Hear Me Sing."

The joy of singing is not about whether or not you can sing or where someone thinks you sound good or not. The joy of singing is just being able to enjoy doing it period.

Also, if you lip-sync in church then you might want to really look at who you are singing for when you are in church. You aren't there to sing for everyone around you, you are there to sing for the glory of God! He loves to hear our praises no matter what we sound like. Why would you want to spare someone's ears instead of praising the Lord?

When I first started singing I wasn't very good, and I soon learned how to sing very well, and to this day my choir teacher could tell you that. But that is because I was determined to do so, and I wasn't going to let anyone tell me that I couldn't.

Anyway, the main reason I wrote was to say whether you can or can't sing, there is no reason that should stop you from singing in church, unless you would rather please others than the Lord. Also, there are a lot of people out there that can't even speak a word, that would probably be glad to be able to sing like you, so be thankful for the sound that comes out of your mouth when you sing becast started singing I wasn't very good, and I soon learned how to sing very well, and to this day my choir teacher could tell you that. But that is because I was determined to do so, and I wasn't going to let anyone tell me that I couldn't.

Anyway, the main reason I wrote was to say whether you can or can't sing, there is no reason that should stop you from singing in church, unless you would rather please others than the Lord. Also, there are a lot of people out there that can't even speak a word, that would probably be glad to be able to sing like you, so be thankful for the sound that comes out of your mouth when you sing because He chose that one especially for you, it was a blessing!

Tiffany Winkles, Sulphur Rock

Tiffany -- Lighten up. In reference to "the joy of singing," I do not enjoy singing. I don't plan to learn how to sing any better than I do now. It'd be as painful as learning how to play the tuba at age 39. As for lip-syncing in church, I don't think I'll worry about that. I believe I am able to praise the Lord in other ways besides singing, and He knows that. I have talents I employ for that purpose.

Julie M. Fidler is editorof the Arkansas ause He chose that one especially for you, it was a blessing!

Tiffany Winkles, Sulphur Rock

Tiffany -- Lighten up. In reference to "the joy of singing," I do not enjoy singing. I don't plan to learn how to sing any better than I do now. It'd be as painful as learning how to play the tuba at age 39. As for lip-syncing in church, I don't think I'll worry about that. I believe I am able to praise the Lord in other ways besides singing, and He knows that. I have talents I employ for that purpose.

Julie M. Fidler is editorof the Arkansas Weekly.She may be e-mailed at [email protected]

August 14, 2002

A television program that everyone in Arkansas should be watching premiered last week.

ABC News' 4-part series, ICU: Arkansas Children's Hospital, will continue with part two tonight at 9 p.m. and the final two installments on Aug. 21 and 28. The network says the show focuses "on life and death in a pediatric heart transplant ward." Arkansas Children's Hospital in Little Rock was chosen because it is the Weekly.She may be e-mailed at [email protected]

August 14, 2002

A television program that everyone in Arkansas should be watching premiered last week.

ABC News' 4-part series, ICU: Arkansas Children's Hospital, will continue with part two tonight at 9 p.m. and the final two installments on Aug. 21 and 28. The network says the show focuses "on life and death in a pediatric heart transplant ward." Arkansas Children's Hospital in Little Rock was chosen because it is the sixth-largest pediatric hospital in the United States and specializes in the transplant procedure. The documentary points out that 70 percent of the young patients die while waiting for donor hearts.

ABC News crews spent 14 months at the hospital and shot 350 hours of footage for the four hours that we see.

Perhaps this series will drive home the importance of the Children's Hospital in our state and just how fortunate we are to have it here.

My family learned this for ourselves a little over 10 years ago. On the morning of his third birthday, my oldest son was s sixth-largest pediatric hospital in the United States and specializes in the transplant procedure. The documentary points out that 70 percent of the young patients die while waiting for donor hearts.

ABC News crews spent 14 months at the hospital and shot 350 hours of footage for the four hours that we see.

Perhaps this series will drive home the importance of the Children's Hospital in our state and just how fortunate we are to have it here.

My family learned this for ourselves a little over 10 years ago. On the morning of his third birthday, my oldest son was slow to get up and appeared to be having a hard time walking. It hurt him to sit up and open his birthday presents. He showed no interest in them and only lay on the couch on his stomach.

The way he was walking, we thought maybe he was having tummy troubles, but that was not the case. He cried about his lower back hurting. My memory is not very clear, but I don't believe he had a fever. He just appeared to be in intense pain.

We took him to our family doctor, and he recommended a local pediatrician who in turn sent us to Arkansas Children's Hospital. By this time, Vincent was unable to sit upslow to get up and appeared to be having a hard time walking. It hurt him to sit up and open his birthday presents. He showed no interest in them and only lay on the couch on his stomach.

The way he was walking, we thought maybe he was having tummy troubles, but that was not the case. He cried about his lower back hurting. My memory is not very clear, but I don't believe he had a fever. He just appeared to be in intense pain.

We took him to our family doctor, and he recommended a local pediatrician who in turn sent us to Arkansas Children's Hospital. By this time, Vincent was unable to sit up, and it hurt him to lie on his back. He was admitted right away.

My toddler went through every test the hospital had to offer including x-rays, MRI, CAT scans and finally a painful spinal tap. Doctors were stumped. All of the nurses and docs at the hospital were wonderful. The only thing that bothered me as a parent about that situation was the fact that every time a doctor walked in to see my son, it was a different doctor. There would be the same questions each time, and the same poking and prodding for Vincent who could only say, "Mommy, it hurts."

In a time that was very distressing ap, and it hurt him to lie on his back. He was admitted right away.

My toddler went through every test the hospital had to offer including x-rays, MRI, CAT scans and finally a painful spinal tap. Doctors were stumped. All of the nurses and docs at the hospital were wonderful. The only thing that bothered me as a parent about that situation was the fact that every time a doctor walked in to see my son, it was a different doctor. There would be the same questions each time, and the same poking and prodding for Vincent who could only say, "Mommy, it hurts."

In a time that was very distressing and frightening, I found Arkansas Children's Hospital comforting. I spent every moment with my boy and slept on the fold-out couch in his room. Volunteers provided packages full of toiletries and other things.

Vincent spent about a month in there, and we never really did get a clear and positive diagnosis about what was wrong with him or why he suddenly woke up one morning and couldn't walk. One of the doctors said, although it didn't show up on any of the tests, he believed Vincent had a bone infection somewhere around his sacroiliac joint. By mistake, he was given oral antibiotics that apparently wouldn't have even touched sucand frightening, I found Arkansas Children's Hospital comforting. I spent every moment with my boy and slept on the fold-out couch in his room. Volunteers provided packages full of toiletries and other things.

Vincent spent about a month in there, and we never really did get a clear and positive diagnosis about what was wrong with him or why he suddenly woke up one morning and couldn't walk. One of the doctors said, although it didn't show up on any of the tests, he believed Vincent had a bone infection somewhere around his sacroiliac joint. By mistake, he was given oral antibiotics that apparently wouldn't have even touched such a serious infection. Then, he was set up with a very disturbing IV-type tube that was terrible to watch nurses put in while I tried to hold down my son to keep him still.

We were sent home with the IV in place, and the hospital shipped the intravenous antibiotics daily in styrofoam coolers for us to administer to him. My son still couldn't walk, and his little legs and arms were like toothpicks with skin draped on them. He was extremely weak.

When the round of antibiotics was finished and he was a bit stronger, Vincent had to learn to walk again. A physical therapist came to our home everch a serious infection. Then, he was set up with a very disturbing IV-type tube that was terrible to watch nurses put in while I tried to hold down my son to keep him still.

We were sent home with the IV in place, and the hospital shipped the intravenous antibiotics daily in styrofoam coolers for us to administer to him. My son still couldn't walk, and his little legs and arms were like toothpicks with skin draped on them. He was extremely weak.

When the round of antibiotics was finished and he was a bit stronger, Vincent had to learn to walk again. A physical therapist came to our home every other day or so for a few weeks until he was able to stand and walk. The Children's Hospital was very helpful showing us how to apply for financial aid at a time when we had no health insurance for our child and before there was such a thing as ARKids First. Our church took up a collection and paid for what wasn't covered. The first time after his illness Vincent walked down the sanctuary aisle for children's church, there wasn't a dry eye in the house.

At any rate, I've gotten carried away with my memories again, and what I was getting at may have been lost. The point is, parents, children and families struggle daily witry other day or so for a few weeks until he was able to stand and walk. The Children's Hospital was very helpful showing us how to apply for financial aid at a time when we had no health insurance for our child and before there was such a thing as ARKids First. Our church took up a collection and paid for what wasn't covered. The first time after his illness Vincent walked down the sanctuary aisle for children's church, there wasn't a dry eye in the house.

At any rate, I've gotten carried away with my memories again, and what I was getting at may have been lost. The point is, parents, children and families struggle daily with situations much worse than the one we experienced, and when things seem to be hopeless, Arkansas Children's Hospital is there to help.

August 7, 2002

Danger! You Don't Want to Hear Me Sing

My singing is crap, and I know it. I'm not proud of it, but I am aware of it.

I've watched a handful of episodes of this summer's reality TV sensation, American Idol, but I've not allowed myself to get into it. One summer realityth situations much worse than the one we experienced, and when things seem to be hopeless, Arkansas Children's Hospital is there to help.

August 7, 2002

Danger! You Don't Want to Hear Me Sing

My singing is crap, and I know it. I'm not proud of it, but I am aware of it.

I've watched a handful of episodes of this summer's reality TV sensation, American Idol, but I've not allowed myself to get into it. One summer reality show wastes enough of my time. Yes, I've gotten hooked on Big Brother 3.

But that's not what this is about. Singing is what this is about. Unfortunately, I missed the first installments of American Idol when the real amateurs surfaced at towns across America, only to be weeded out instantly by the judges. I saw some of the clips and that was bad enough.

Do these people not realize they stink? Who in their families is responsible for not letting them know they stink? Whoever they are, they're doing the "singers" a disservice. It was made clear to me early on that my singing vy show wastes enough of my time. Yes, I've gotten hooked on Big Brother 3.

But that's not what this is about. Singing is what this is about. Unfortunately, I missed the first installments of American Idol when the real amateurs surfaced at towns across America, only to be weeded out instantly by the judges. I saw some of the clips and that was bad enough.

Do these people not realize they stink? Who in their families is responsible for not letting them know they stink? Whoever they are, they're doing the "singers" a disservice. It was made clear to me early on that my singing voice stinks.

That's why I lip-sync hymns in church. I don't want to subject my fellow man (or woman) to such severe punishment.

It wasn't a family member who told me about being vocally challenged. It was much harsher than that. I doubt that my parents thought I sang like an angel, but they put up with it. I used to park myself in front of the record player's speaker and put an instrumental version of Indian Reservation on the turntable. Then, many years before Karaoke, I'd break out my tape recorder, with the microphone attached by a black cable, and belt it out -- "Cherokee peovoice stinks.

That's why I lip-sync hymns in church. I don't want to subject my fellow man (or woman) to such severe punishment.

It wasn't a family member who told me about being vocally challenged. It was much harsher than that. I doubt that my parents thought I sang like an angel, but they put up with it. I used to park myself in front of the record player's speaker and put an instrumental version of Indian Reservation on the turntable. Then, many years before Karaoke, I'd break out my tape recorder, with the microphone attached by a black cable, and belt it out -- "Cherokee people! Cherokee tribe! So proud to live. So proud to die!!!" Didn't sound so bad to my 10-year-old ears when I played it back. But, the folks never asked for a rerun.

When I was in junior high, I decided to join the choir. No talent required. No auditions. Anyone who wanted to be a part could sing. This was a bit of all right. Our first song to have a go at was Feelin' Groovy, the Simon and Garfunkel tune.

The choir director put me in the soprano section, where most of the girls were. Big mistake. I was singing the words and thought I was doing fine, but my voice must've stuckople! Cherokee tribe! So proud to live. So proud to die!!!" Didn't sound so bad to my 10-year-old ears when I played it back. But, the folks never asked for a rerun.

When I was in junior high, I decided to join the choir. No talent required. No auditions. Anyone who wanted to be a part could sing. This was a bit of all right. Our first song to have a go at was Feelin' Groovy, the Simon and Garfunkel tune.

The choir director put me in the soprano section, where most of the girls were. Big mistake. I was singing the words and thought I was doing fine, but my voice must've stuck out like a sore thumb. Next thing I knew, I was moved to the alto section.

"Slow down, you move too fast, you've got to make the morning last. Kickin' down the cobble-stones, lookin' for fun and feelin' groovy. Feeeeeeeelin' groovy," I sang.

"Get closer to Dawn," the choir director told me. "Listen to her when you sing." Dawn had rusty-colored hair in a pixie cut, a face full of freckles and not a curve to her form yet. She usually wore spring green, polyester pantsuits. She was a year younger than me, and she sang beautifully. She's probably a diva somewhere nk out like a sore thumb. Next thing I knew, I was moved to the alto section.

"Slow down, you move too fast, you've got to make the morning last. Kickin' down the cobble-stones, lookin' for fun and feelin' groovy. Feeeeeeeelin' groovy," I sang.

"Get closer to Dawn," the choir director told me. "Listen to her when you sing." Dawn had rusty-colored hair in a pixie cut, a face full of freckles and not a curve to her form yet. She usually wore spring green, polyester pantsuits. She was a year younger than me, and she sang beautifully. She's probably a diva somewhere now, singing in a club.

I did stick my ear up to Dawn's mouth on the chorus of Feelin' Groovy. However, it was hard enough for me to try to hit the melody sung by the sopranos, let alone try for the harmony of the altos. I did my darnedest, though.

Shortly thereafter, the choir director decided the choir needed marimba accompaniment, and I was chosen to fill the position. With the upcoming Christmas choir concert, my assignment was to do the "rum-pa-pum-pums" on the marimba. Ended up, that was the only song during the concert that required a marimba. But, instead of rejoining thenow, singing in a club.

I did stick my ear up to Dawn's mouth on the chorus of Feelin' Groovy. However, it was hard enough for me to try to hit the melody sung by the sopranos, let alone try for the harmony of the altos. I did my darnedest, though.

Shortly thereafter, the choir director decided the choir needed marimba accompaniment, and I was chosen to fill the position. With the upcoming Christmas choir concert, my assignment was to do the "rum-pa-pum-pums" on the marimba. Ended up, that was the only song during the concert that required a marimba. But, instead of rejoining the choir for the other numbers, I was told to stand "ready" at the marimba.

OK, the clouds lifted. The light bulb went on, and whatever other clich� you want to throw in here. It occurred to me that perhaps my singing stank. Upon doing more recording and listening in the future, the painful reality was driven home.

Now, I avoid singing in front of anyone all together. Except for my sons, that is. I guess I'm comfortable enough with them, I don't mind subjecting them to it. There are two songs in which I believe I am actually hitting the right notes. Perhaps that's because there's not a be choir for the other numbers, I was told to stand "ready" at the marimba.

OK, the clouds lifted. The light bulb went on, and whatever other clich� you want to throw in here. It occurred to me that perhaps my singing stank. Upon doing more recording and listening in the future, the painful reality was driven home.

Now, I avoid singing in front of anyone all together. Except for my sons, that is. I guess I'm comfortable enough with them, I don't mind subjecting them to it. There are two songs in which I believe I am actually hitting the right notes. Perhaps that's because there's not a big range in them. They are Joe Jackson's Is She Really Going Out With Him? and The Eagles' Peaceful, Easy Feeling. I also enjoy shouting at the top of my lungs along with Peter Gabriel on Sledgehammer, although I doubt I'm hitting any of the proper notes.

So, there you have it. If you're sitting next to me at a gathering where there's going to be singing, don't worry. I'll lip sync. But, if you come up on me at a stop light, and my windows are down, the Max 93One or Sky 99.5 is blaring, and you see my lips moving -- be very afraid. You might want to roll your windows up.

Is She Really Going Out With Him? and The Eagles' Peaceful, Easy Feeling. I also enjoy shouting at the top of my lungs along with Peter Gabriel on Sledgehammer, although I doubt I'm hitting any of the proper notes.

So, there you have it. If you're sitting next to me at a gathering where there's going to be singing, don't worry. I'll lip sync. But, if you come up on me at a stop light, and my windows are down, the Max 93One or Sky 99.5 is blaring, and you see my lips moving -- be very afraid. You might want to roll your windows up.

July 31, 2002

Have you heard about the latest Russell Crowe controversy?

No, it's not about him beating anyone up or threatening anyone (this time). It's about the fact that he's a smoker.

Now, I'm not a smoker. Thank God, that's not among my extensive list of bad habits I'm trying to change by the time I hit 40 in just over seven months. And, for a long time, I had a serious problem with smokers – especially those who lit up in smoke-free zones and those who literally blew smoke in my face. I do have a problem with color="#C0C0C0">

July 31, 2002

Have you heard about the latest Russell Crowe controversy?

No, it's not about him beating anyone up or threatening anyone (this time). It's about the fact that he's a smoker.

As I've gotten older, I get less and less fired up about anything. It's much nicer to take a laid-back approach to most issues than to fuss about something I'm not likely to change. I'm also so open to various opinions mine is ridiculously easy to change. So, I don't fuss at my smoking friends and, thankfully, they don't fuss at me for eating so dang much.

What's all this got to do with Russell Crowe or the price of tea in China, you're asking. In moh the fact that both of my brothers are smokers because I'd like to see them not leave this plain of existence any sooner than absolutely necessary.

What's all this got to do with Russell Crowe or the price of tea in China, you're asking. In most, or perhaps all, of the interviews I've seen with Crowe on television or "making of" DVDs he's smoking. Anyone who knows me might tell you I'm a bit obsessed with the macho Aussie. The fact is, honey, he can blow his Marlboro smoke in my face any ol' time!

Seeing Russell take a puff on that cigarette takes me to a time when smoking in movies or by the "stars" was sexy. That was before smoking led to cancer, I guess. Clark Gable and Marlena Deitrich– that sort of thing.

What makes it kind of ironic is that Crowe received one of his best-actor Oscar nominations for playost, or perhaps all, of the interviews I've seen with Crowe on television or "making of" DVDs he's smoking. Anyone who knows me might tell you I'm a bit obsessed with the macho Aussie. The fact is, honey, he can blow his Marlboro smoke in my face any ol' time!

What makes it kind of ironic is that Crowe received one of his best-actor Oscar nominations for playing real-life anti-tobacco whistleblower Jeffrey Wigand, who fought to have his story told on America's 60 Minutes.

On July 17, in Federal Court in Australia, Crowe was seen playing himself, brandishing a pack of Marlboros and lighting up in an interview on Australia's version of 60 Minutes. The Australian Broadcasting Authority found that 60 Minutes recklessly breached the Tobacco Advertising Prohibition Act when it aired the image of Crowe on Oct. 22, 2000, ruling the footage was a tobacco advertisement and encouraged the public to emulate Crowe by smoking, in particular, by smoking Marlboros.

ying real-life anti-tobacco whistleblower Jeffrey Wigand, who fought to have his story told on America's 60 Minutes.

The ABA said that, "although there is no evidence that the interview was intended to promote smoking … the footage in fact promoted those things, in that it encouraged smoking." Channel 9, which makes the show, argued to no avail that the purpose of the segment was to show the real side of the Hollywood star.

This seems pretty silly to me. I believe the blokes who may have seen the Crowe installment on Channel 9 didn't decide to smoke because of it. If you're gonna smoke, you're gonna smoke. If someone is so weak and lacking a strong enough will that they're going to tell themselves, "I fee

On the other hand, I'm definitely not in favor of aiming tobacco ads and products at youngsters who aren't mature enough to make informed decisions on their own. Yeah, I'm wishy-washy that way.

I don't really know what my point is here. I guess that we're not going to stop the Russell Crowes of the world from lighting up during a media interview.

July 24, 2002

Thisel compelled to smoke because it might make me look cool like Russell Crowe," then we shouldn't be burdened with them.

On the other hand, I'm definitely not in favor of aiming tobacco ads and products at youngsters who aren't mature enough to make informed decisions on their own. Yeah, I'm wishy-washy that way.

I don't really know what my point is here. I guess that we're not going to stop the Russell Crowes of the world from lighting up during a media interview.

July 24, 2002

This is gonna be one of those "potpourri" columns with more than one topic. Sometimes I have something in mind, but it's not enough for an entire column, or there's just a comment I'd like to make that wouldn't fit in with another topic. So, here goes …

The day this paper hits the streets and mailboxes is my Mom and Dad's 53rd wedding anniversary. Happy anniversary Mom and Dad! Fifty-three years. Now, that's something. That's almost seven times the number of years I spent in, er, ahem, wedded bliss. On Saturday, July 24, 1949, Richard Fidler and Earlene Biddison, kids at only 20 years old, said their vowss is gonna be one of those "potpourri" columns with more than one topic. Sometimes I have something in mind, but it's not enough for an entire column, or there's just a comment I'd like to make that wouldn't fit in with another topic. So, here goes …

These two folks have been the best, most supportive parents three children could ever want. They've always been there to lend a helping hand or a word of advice to my brothers and me. Heck, I've always said they come as close to Ward and June Cleaver or Mike and Carol Brady as any real parents can. If I really get to thinking about it, it hurts me to know I can never provide that kind of a situation for my sons. I'm encouraged the boys have such wonderful grandparents.

OK, enough of that mush. Some of you with keen pes in the Methodist Church in downtown Peoria, Illinois.

OK, enough of that mush. Some of you with keen perception may have noticed the italic paragraph at the bottom of this column is different this week from what it's been over the past year. Others haven't even realized that I quit working for Batesville's daily newspaper well over two years ago. My career has been kind of confusing over the past couple of years, I'll admit. So, let's see if we can't get this straightened out in case anyone but me cares.

As of July 22, I am now back in the employ of WRD Entertainment Inc., which publishes the Arkansas Weekly and owns five radio stations. I am the editor of this publication. Over the past 51 weeks, I was community erception may have noticed the italic paragraph at the bottom of this column is different this week from what it's been over the past year. Others haven't even realized that I quit working for Batesville's daily newspaper well over two years ago. My career has been kind of confusing over the past couple of years, I'll admit. So, let's see if we can't get this straightened out in case anyone but me cares.

As of July 22, I am now back in the employ of WRD Entertainment Inc., which publishes the Arkansas Weekly and owns five radio stations. I am the editor of this publication. Over the past 51 weeks, I was community relations specialist in the marketing department of White River Health System. Before that, from May 2000 to July 26, 2001, I was employed by WRD. And, working backward, from the time I graduated from Arkansas College in 1985 to April 2000, I worked in the Batesville Daily Guard's newsroom.

I still run into people in local stores and such who haven't realized I ever switched jobs. Well, enough of the job-switching. I'm ready and anxious to settle in here at the Weekly. I'm also looking forward to hearing from you! If you have story or photo ideas, please feel free to contact me at 793-4196, extension 23, e-mail relations specialist in the marketing department of White River Health System. Before that, from May 2000 to July 26, 2001, I was employed by WRD. And, working backward, from the time I graduated from Arkansas College in 1985 to April 2000, I worked in the Batesville Daily Guard's newsroom.

On another topic, for those of you who have contacted me either wanting to give or sell me a record turntable – thanks so much! I have procured one, and I'm very grateful to all who read my column about the search.

Also, to those of you who have asked what else happened in the haunted Ten Mile House at Little Rock, let's do lunch. I don't think I'm going to write about it for the time being. A follow-up investigation will be scheduled in another month or two, and perhaps I'll tell [email protected] or by snail mail at 920-C Harrison Street, Batesville, AR 72501.

Also, to those of you who have asked what else happened in the haunted Ten Mile House at Little Rock, let's do lunch. I don't think I'm going to write about it for the time being. A follow-up investigation will be scheduled in another month or two, and perhaps I'll tell you more in this space then. Meanwhile, I understand Arkansas Times is doing an article about CASPR (Central Arkansas Society for Paranormal Research), so we have that to look forward to.

Until next week, stay cool!

July 17, 2002

"Oh, we are the Freakies. We are the Freakies, and this is our Freakies Tree."

That little ditty popped into my head the other day, and I got a serious craving for somel you more in this space then. Meanwhile, I understand Arkansas Times is doing an article about CASPR (Central Arkansas Society for Paranormal Research), so we have that to look forward to.

Until next week, stay cool!

July 17, 2002

"Oh, we are the Freakies. We are the Freakies, and this is our Freakies Tree."

That little ditty popped into my head the other day, and I got a serious craving for some sugar-coated cereal. The Freakies was a popular cereal in the 1970s, and most of us begged our parents to buy it because of the weird characters in the commercials. Who knows what they were, but we knew all their names. And we collected the magnets and plastic figurines packed into the bottom of every box.

Ralston Purina introduced the cereal nationwide in 1974. There was BossMoss, Hamhose, Snorkledorf, Grumble, Goody-Goody, Gargle and Cowmumble. I couldn't tell you what the cereal tasted like, but I remember what all the characters looked like. Each had his or her own individual personality.

That was back when many cereals' names were prefaced by the word "sugar." This made them extremely attractive to my brother and me. If the name of the cereal didn't include "sugar," we'd be forced to add our own. And, add sugar we did. We added so much, we'd scrape it up off the bottom of the bowl by the spoonful after slurping down the milk. We enjoyed Super Sugar Crisp, marketed by Sugar Bear; big yellow Sugar Corn Pops; Sugar Frosted Flakes with Tony the Tiger; Sugar Smacks with Dig 'Em the frog; Quisp for Quazy Energy; Cookie Crisp; Post Sugar Sparkled Corn Flakes; Alphabits letter-shaped, sugar-frosted cereal; and soace="Arial"> That was back when many cereals' names were prefaced by the word "sugar." This made them extremely attractive to my brother and me. If the name of the cereal didn't include "sugar," we'd be forced to add our own. And, add sugar we did. We added so much, we'd scrape it up off the bottom of the bowl by the spoonful after slurping down the milk. We enjoyed Super Sugar Crisp, marketed by Sugar Bear; big yellow Sugar Corn Pops; Sugar Frosted Flakes with Tony the Tiger; Sugar Smacks with Dig 'Em the frog; Quisp for Quazy Energy; Cookie Crisp; Post Sugar Sparkled Corn Flakes; Alphabits letter-shaped, sugar-frosted cereal; and so on and so forth.

In those days, boxes of cereal didn't cost five bucks a pop, and each one had a cool toy inside. Or, in some cases, the box had a "record" on its

back. I remember getting Super Sugar Crisp soley for the Archies' record "Sugar Sugar" and again for the Jackson 5's "Sugar Daddy." We would cut on the dotted line on the cardboard and put the record on our turntable. Sometimes, the needle and arm would weigh more than the cardboard, which had a sheet of plastic with grooves stuck to it, and we'd have to sit something heavy in the middle near o on and so forth.

In those days, boxes of cereal didn't cost five bucks a pop, and each one had a cool toy inside. Or, in some cases, the box had a "record" on its

I've found a site on the Internet where you can check out food packaging and displays from yesteryear. It's www.theimaginaryworld.com. Click on "Tick Tock Toys" when you get there. To tide you over until then, here's a box of Freakies.

June 26, 2002

I was not off to a good start on last weekend’s ghost hunt.

June 26, 2002

I was not off to a good start on last weekend’s ghost hunt.

Recently, I joined CASPR (Central Arkansas Society for Paranormal Research – check it out at www.casprquest.com). Since the 1960s, I’ve been interested in all aspects of the paranormal. No, I’m not a witch or a Wiccan. I am indeed a Christian – let’s get that said immediately.

The beginnings go back to TV shows like Bewitched, Twilight Zone, Outer Limits, Night Gallery, Night Stalker and Dark Shadows. Now, I never miss such programs as Haunted History, The Scariest PoNormal"> Recently, I joined CASPR (Central Arkansas Society for Paranormal Research – check it out at www.casprquest.com). Since the 1960s, I’ve been interested in all aspects of the paranormal. No, I’m not a witch or a Wiccan. I am indeed a Christian – let’s get that said immediately.

The beginnings go back to TV shows like Bewitched, Twilight Zone, Outer Limits, Night Gallery, Night Stalker and Dark Shadows. Now, I never miss such programs as Haunted History, The Scariest Places on Earth and anything on the Travel Channel, TLC or Discovery dealing with ghosts, UFOs and the like. This doesn’t necessarily mean I believe Bigfoot is stomping around the northwest or that I may be abducted by aliens tomorrow. I do, however, think there’s more to this life than meets the eye or can be explained scientifically.

After finding CASPR while searching for hauntings, I contacted the founder of the new, but growing, group. I asked her about the upcoming Ten Mile House investigation. The Web site said it was planned for June. Lo and behold, I was in timPlaces on Earth and anything on the Travel Channel, TLC or Discovery dealing with ghosts, UFOs and the like. This doesn’t necessarily mean I believe Bigfoot is stomping around the northwest or that I may be abducted by aliens tomorrow. I do, however, think there’s more to this life than meets the eye or can be explained scientifically.

After finding CASPR while searching for hauntings, I contacted the founder of the new, but growing, group. I asked her about the upcoming Ten Mile House investigation. The Web site said it was planned for June. Lo and behold, I was in time to attend the Saturday night investigation. Karen, the founder, told me to bring all the camera equipment I had.

Some background on Ten Mile House: On Stagecoach Road in southwest Little Rock, it was built sometime between 1822-30. It’s the oldest brick building in Pulaski County, maybe the state, and stands on land deeded by the U.S. government to Archibald McHenry for his role in the War of 1812. The deed has John Quincy Adams’ name on it, and one of the bedrooms upstairs has Civil War graffiti scratched on it. That’s the room in which David O. Dodd, “Boy Martyr ofme to attend the Saturday night investigation. Karen, the founder, told me to bring all the camera equipment I had.

Some background on Ten Mile House: On Stagecoach Road in southwest Little Rock, it was built sometime between 1822-30. It’s the oldest brick building in Pulaski County, maybe the state, and stands on land deeded by the U.S. government to Archibald McHenry for his role in the War of 1812. The deed has John Quincy Adams’ name on it, and one of the bedrooms upstairs has Civil War graffiti scratched on it. That’s the room in which David O. Dodd, “Boy Martyr of the Confederacy,” spent his last night. He and others were held there when Union troops occupied the home during the Civil War. Dodd, 17, was hanged as a spy. The last fighting of the Little Rock campaign in September 1863 occurred just past Ten Mile House on the property.

An early owner was shot to death as he answered the front door and died at the foot of the stairs. Apparently a lot of folks died around and in that house.

Until late last year, the house and property were owned by Litf the Confederacy,” spent his last night. He and others were held there when Union troops occupied the home during the Civil War. Dodd, 17, was hanged as a spy. The last fighting of the Little Rock campaign in September 1863 occurred just past Ten Mile House on the property.

An early owner was shot to death as he answered the front door and died at the foot of the stairs. Apparently a lot of folks died around and in that house.

Until late last year, the house and property were owned by Little Rock restaurateur Nancy Newell. In the 1990s, Newell ran a small dining establishment there.

The current owners of the house have experienced some pretty strange stuff. One of them was upstairs in the Dodd bedroom when he was awakened by his dog. The dog sat, bolt upright, and stared out the doorway toward the stairs. It was then the fellow heard three or four women singing an old gospel tune, and they appeared to be in the stairwell. They were clear as a bell, he told me, just as though I was singing along with a couple of the other female CASPR members.

ttle Rock restaurateur Nancy Newell. In the 1990s, Newell ran a small dining establishment there.

The other owner was telling me about that stairwell. There is a bathroom under the stairs, without electricity. With no windows in it, it’s dark all the time. He said they bought some of those “tap” lights. You know, the flat, round kind where you put batteries in it, stick it on the wall, and when you want to turn it on, you tap it. At any rate, the batteries never stay working. Brand new batteries are drained immediately. Anyone who watches their share of Haunted History knows spirits can suck the juice out of camera batteries real quick.

And speaking of bathrooms, I’m getting back to that first paragraph. This owner also told me he’d been locked in the bathroom at the top of the stairs. He had to wait on the other owner, who was out in the yard, to wander back in and help him out with the needle-nose pliers.

I was the second CASPR member to arrive at Ten Mile House for our investigation. The other member, the resident skeptic (who keeps getting proven wrong) was already inside, casing the joint. One of the owners offered me a drink. Well, it went right through me,l> And speaking of bathrooms, I’m getting back to that first paragraph. This owner also told me he’d been locked in the bathroom at the top of the stairs. He had to wait on the other owner, who was out in the yard, to wander back in and help him out with the needle-nose pliers.

I was the second CASPR member to arrive at Ten Mile House for our investigation. The other member, the resident skeptic (who keeps getting proven wrong) was already inside, casing the joint. One of the owners offered me a drink. Well, it went right through me, and the need for one of those bathrooms arose. Given the choice between the energy-sucking black hole and the possibility of getting locked in with the lights on, I chose the latter. The guy told me not to close the door because I would likely get locked in.

I gathered a gal who is a friend of the owners and asked her to stand guard outside the bathroom. Upon completing my task, I looked up at the bathroom door. It was closed. I hadn’t closed it. I didn’t see it close, and I didn’t hear it close. Nevertheless, it was closed.

I reached out and wrapped my hand around the white ceramic knob and turned. Nothing. I continued to twist the knob back and forth, back and forth. Surely, the lady outside the door would it rattling and open the door. Nope. I looked down at the floor. It was covered with the same kind of white hexagonal tiles that covered the floor of my grandparents’ bathroom, in which I also became locked about 35 years hence.

I knocked on the door. “Hello? Guess what?” I said. No one heard me. Where had she gone? “Don’t panl"> I reached out and wrapped my hand around the white ceramic knob and turned. Nothing. I continued to twist the knob back and forth, back and forth. Surely, the lady outside the door would it rattling and open the door. Nope. I looked down at the floor. It was covered with the same kind of white hexagonal tiles that covered the floor of my grandparents’ bathroom, in which I also became locked about 35 years hence.

I knocked on the door. “Hello? Guess what?” I said. No one heard me. Where had she gone? “Don’t panic,” I told myself as I tried to remember the lady’s name. Suddenly, it came to me.

“Denise!” I shouted and banged. “I can’t get out.” If the lights had gone out at the moment, I might as well have sat back down on the toilet. I heard more people downstairs. Others were arriving. I yelled a little louder. There were footsteps on the stairs. She tried the knob from her side. Nothing.

Denise said she’d go get one of the owners. I worked on keeping my cool. I stoppednic,” I told myself as I tried to remember the lady’s name. Suddenly, it came to me.

Denise said she’d go get one of the owners. I worked on keeping my cool. I stopped banging and twisting and took a deep breath. I looked down at the floor, closed my eyes and exhaled slowly. “Please let me out,” I said out loud. Then I tried the knob again. It opened as though there was never anything wrong with it. Denise and the owner were coming up the stairs.

It was the beginning of a very eventful night. But, maybe that’s another column.

July 3, 2002

One wouldn't know it's summertime by drd banging and twisting and took a deep breath. I looked down at the floor, closed my eyes and exhaled slowly. “Please let me out,” I said out loud. Then I tried the knob again. It opened as though there was never anything wrong with it. Denise and the owner were coming up the stairs.

It was the beginning of a very eventful night. But, maybe that’s another column.

July 3, 2002

One wouldn't know it's summertime by driving through the neighborhood.

Where are all the kids? I almost expected a tumbleweed to roll across the street, followed by a puff of dust and accompanied by the music from "High Noon." Then, it occurred to me. All of the children were inside their homes, playing video games.

I pictured them in my head. Nearly transparent pasty white skin, eyes that squint to a thin line if exposed to daylight, hands firmly grasping game controllers and some with stomachs hanging over their husky-size jeans, sitting motionless except for their rapidly twriving through the neighborhood.

I thought back to my childhood summers, a seemingly endless time, filled with late mornings and activities galore. Every scene from the 1960s and '70s was full of sunshine outdoors. Trying hard to think of a summer day from the past spent indoors, all I could come up with was a vision of myself, seated at the kitchen table with its vinyl harvest gold table cloth, hurriedly eating a jelly sandwich (I didn't like it with peanut butter), sliced tomatoes sprinkled with salt and pepper and Kelly's brand barbecue potato chips off a paper plate in a wicker holdwitching fingers, staring into the glowing television.

Imaginations developed and grew back then during the summer. A swingset became a jet plane where I was the pilot and one of our poor, defenseless felines was the crew. I became a native from "Planet of the Apes" as I swung on a vine growing from a tree over the creek, dropping off into the sand, barefooted. My friend, Cathy, and I turned into Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn, re-enacting scenes from the movie musical starring Johnnie Whitaker and Jeff East, as we built a raft from fallen branches. We'd be Olympic athletes in a neighbor's pool or just running through the sprinkler.

Early in the evening, one family's dinner bell the next block over would ring, while other moms stepped out onto porches, calling their children's names. Kids scattered and returned home for a quick supper. The neighborhood briefly resembled a ghost town.

As the sun fell, kids meandered back to the neighborhood streets, holding flashlights or empty glass jars, their lids full of holes, punctured by a nail. Games of flashlight tag followed, as did lightning bug hunts. The playing waned and gave way to visiting. We'd sit in clusters on warm, concrete driveways, under the font face="Arial" size="2"> Early in the evening, one family's dinner bell the next block over would ring, while other moms stepped out onto porches, calling their children's names. Kids scattered and returned home for a quick supper. The neighborhood briefly resembled a ghost town.

Finally, it was time to head inside where the remainder of the day included a bath or shower, some Jiffy Pop and maybe a board game. A game without electricity or batteries.

A Chick in Distress and a Cop in Shining Armor

Part One:

He might as well have been wearing chain mail and riding atop stars, and talk. We talked about nothing in particular and everything we could think of.

Finally, it was time to head inside where the remainder of the day included a bath or shower, some Jiffy Pop and maybe a board game. A game without electricity or batteries.

A Chick in Distress and a Cop in Shining Armor

Part One:

He might as well have been wearing chain mail and riding atop a white stallion; because that's what I saw when he pulled up in his squad car.

With 6 hours and 300-plus miles behind me, I was making good time. I'd be at my brother, Bob's, house in Mackinaw by 8 p.m., and we'd be catching up with each other over a cold brew. The '97 Neon and I had come through a serious toad-strangler a few hours back near the Arkansas-Missouri state line, and I'd been forced to pull over at a convenience store where I waited for it to let up enough so I could see the road.

It was 85 at noon when I left Batesville. Now, the sun was beating down on my a white stallion; because that's what I saw when he pulled up in his squad car.

It was 85 at noon when I left Batesville. Now, the sun was beating down on my back, and the sky ahead toward Springfield, Ill., was pitch black. Lightning made dramatic separations in the sky, spreading purple spikes throughout its black canvas. I was bummed about the thought of going through another rainstorm, but I was happy at being so close to my brothers. I grabbed another hot 'n' spicy pork rind from the bag in the empty passenger seat and washed it down with a gulp of lukewarm Diet Pepsi.

Thud-whunk! Something forced the steering wheel from my grip and to the right. I saw one of Nancy Neon's hubcaps fly into the ditch like a Frisbee on its side. I applied the brakes and pulled onto the sho back, and the sky ahead toward Springfield, Ill., was pitch black. Lightning made dramatic separations in the sky, spreading purple spikes throughout its black canvas. I was bummed about the thought of going through another rainstorm, but I was happy at being so close to my brothers. I grabbed another hot 'n' spicy pork rind from the bag in the empty passenger seat and washed it down with a gulp of lukewarm Diet Pepsi.

This is exactly why I signed up for a cell phone contract almost five years ago. I wanted that security, and the Mr. Rescue road hazard plan, offered by what was Southwestern Bell cellular at the time, was just what the doctor ordered. I had two numbers programmed into my phone for Mr. Rescue: one for within my calling region and one for outside. Because I was way out of my region, I pushed the speed dial for "Mr. Rescue Away." I pay 5 or 10 bucks a month to Mr. Rescue. He'd been taking my money all this time without ever giving back. Now was his coulder of I-55. What to do now? Not panic, that's for sure.

Rats! Mr. Rescue's "away" number was "no longer in service." So, I tried the other one. Same story. What next? Well, I didn't want to dial 9-1-1 because a woman with a flat tire 25 miles south of the state capital is not generally considered an emergency. My cousin, Gordon Fidler, is a state trooper and has been for quite a number of years. I'd try to get hold of him. I hadn't talked to Gordon in several years, probably not since Grandma Fidler's funeral. But, he was still a Fidler and someone who lived in Springfield that I knew. In order to get his number, I called Mom and Dadchance, I thought.

They were audibly upset and sympathetic. Dad said he'd get Gordon's number and look for a non-emergency number for the Illinois State Police and call back. After disconnecting, I reached to the floor beside my seat and popped the trunk lever. I knew I'd have to get all that crap out of the trunk and start moving it into the back seat to dig out the spare and see what I could do. Several years back, not long after I became single again, Dad showed me how to take a tire off and put it back on. We didn't actually do it, but he showed me the steps. I thought I could probably figure it out.

Before I climbed out of the car to begin this adventure, I decided to say a quick, silent prayer and gather my calm. I was proud at how calm I actually was at the moment. Probably, I was in shock.

I turned on the car's hazard lights, and just as I was about to open my car door and step out, I spotted him in his patrol car, heading southbound in the lane nearest me. A dopey smile spread across my lips, and I waved. Not frantically though – it probably looked more like the queen of England bored with a parade. I didn't want to appear too awfully helpless.

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Before I climbed out of the car to begin this adventure, I decided to say a quick, silent prayer and gather my calm. I was proud at how calm I actually was at the moment. Probably, I was in shock.

In my side-view mirror I could see the cop found a place in the grassy median to turn around and head my direction. Thank you, Lord.

Part Two of this column will be published May 15.

Part 2

Last time in my column, I told about driving to central Illinois from Batesville when my car blew a tire. Where we left off, a state trooper spotted me and had just pulled up to help.

I stepped out, and I think I waved at him again as

In my side-view mirror I could see the cop found a place in the grassy median to turn around and head my direction. Thank you, Lord.

Part Two of this column will be published May 15.

Part 2

Last time in my column, I told about driving to central Illinois from Batesville when my car blew a tire. Where we left off, a state trooper spotted me and had just pulled up to help.

I stepped out, and I think I waved at him again as he approached. He stayed in his car, turned on the light bar, but not the siren, and I saw him put a radio microphone to his mouth. I knew he was probably telling dispatch what he was doing and why he'd stopped and calling in my license plate number to see if I was wanted for anything. I realized I was blocking his view of the plate while I unloaded the trunk, so I moved and carried an open 30-pack of Old Milwaukee to the back seat. (Could I could get in trouble for that, I wondered.)

A gale of wind blew my hair and rippled the trooper's khaki uniform shirt as he walked toward me. He wore a Smokey Bear-type has he approached. He stayed in his car, turned on the light bar, but not the siren, and I saw him put a radio microphone to his mouth. I knew he was probably telling dispatch what he was doing and why he'd stopped and calling in my license plate number to see if I was wanted for anything. I realized I was blocking his view of the plate while I unloaded the trunk, so I moved and carried an open 30-pack of Old Milwaukee to the back seat. (Could I could get in trouble for that, I wondered.)

A gale of wind blew my hair and rippled the trooper's khaki uniform shirt as he walked toward me. He wore a Smokey Bear-type hat and brown uniform pants, tucked into black boots. That's when a strange helpless feeling hit me. I almost started blubbering, but instead began to spew words.

"I was driving from Arkansas ... I'm on my way up to Peoria to see my brothers ... My tire blew out ... I think some hooligans in the neighborhood

slashed it ... Nick and I noticed it, but ... I've never changed a tire in my life ... Can you help me?" I'm not sure what all else I said in that 3-second span.

"Now's a good time to learn. at and brown uniform pants, tucked into black boots. That's when a strange helpless feeling hit me. I almost started blubbering, but instead began to spew words.

"I was driving from Arkansas ... I'm on my way up to Peoria to see my brothers ... My tire blew out ... I think some hooligans in the neighborhood

slashed it ... Nick and I noticed it, but ... I've never changed a tire in my life ... Can you help me?" I'm not sure what all else I said in that 3-second span.

"Now's a good time to learn. You're lucky this didn't happen up there," the trooper said, nodding his head to the north. I think I saw him smile.

He looked into the trunk. "Do you have a spare and a jack?"

I told him I thought the proper stuff was in there. I knew my dad had it out at one point for some reason or another.

The next thing I knew, he was handing me a black, simulated leather bag he had pulled from the trunk. "Why don't you get that out? You can just put it anywhere under the frame," he i You're lucky this didn't happen up there," the trooper said, nodding his head to the north. I think I saw him smile.

He looked into the trunk. "Do you have a spare and a jack?"

I told him I thought the proper stuff was in there. I knew my dad had it out at one point for some reason or another.

The next thing I knew, he was handing me a black, simulated leather bag he had pulled from the trunk. "Why don't you get that out? You can just put it anywhere under the frame," he instructed.

Huh? What was in this mysterious bag? I loosened the drawstring and found a black metal thing I supposed to be the jack. There was another piece of black metal in there, in a smaller pocket within the bag. It was apparently a handle that attached to the jack. Now, I had two foreign objects in my hands.

The trooper, who I noticed by this time was quite pleasant to look at, was now standing by the blown-out front passenger side tire. He went back to his patrol car and took something out of the trunk. I recognized it as a metal doo-dad used to loinstructed.

I was kneeling with the jack pieces in hand, near where he stopped by the tire. "Will this work?" I asked as I placed the jack under the car beneath the front passenger door.

"Just make sure it's something sturdy there."

I found what appeared to be sturdy and then fit the lever thingy onto the jack. I applied some pumping action, but nothing appeared to be happening. The cop was pulling plastic covers off the lug nuts. "These are pretty much

I was kneeling with the jack pieces in hand, near where he stopped by the tire. "Will this work?" I asked as I placed the jack under the car beneath the front passenger door.

"Just make sure it's something sturdy there."

for show," he said. "You don't have to have them."

I was glad he wasn't watching me when the light bulb went off and I realized the lever thingy was supposed to be wound clockwise to raise the jack and not pumped. D-oh! "Once you get that up far enough where the wheel is off the ground, we can take this one off," he said, pointing to the shredded tire.

The radio attached to his belt crackled with a storm warning from the weather service. Then, some sort of call directly to him. He unhookedt>

for show," he said. "You don't have to have them."

The radio attached to his belt crackled with a storm warning from the weather service. Then, some sort of call directly to him. He unhooked it from his waist and spoke into it, "Assisting with a flat."

As I cranked madly, I heard a crunch. It was a metal lip on the frame of the car. Oh well, the car didn't seem to want to fall off the jack, so I kept cranking. He stopped me by saying, "That oughtta do."

Then, he handed me the lug-nut-loosening what-chamajigger and said, "See if you can get one of those loose."

It was about that time the rain began. "Oh man; felt hat," he said. "It's not good to ged it from his waist and spoke into it, "Assisting with a flat."

Then, he handed me the lug-nut-loosening what-chamajigger and said, "See if you can get one of those loose."

It was about that time the rain began. "Oh man; felt hat," he said. "It's not good to get these wet."

"I imagine they're pretty expensive."

"I'll be right back," he said, went to his car and returned. "I'm not dressed for this. They just don't make these clothes for this sort of thing." He was putting a brown plastic cover over his Smokey hat and was now wearing work gloves. "How's it going?" he asked, crouching down next to me. He smiled as I turned the X-shaped tool.

"That's called a 4-way," he said. "You really need to get onet these wet."

"I imagine they're pretty expensive."

"That's called a 4-way," he said. "You really need to get one when you have this tire fixed. The lever on your jack is supposed to do the same thing,

but it's worthless."

Big glops of rain fell on my shoulders and drenched my hair as I toiled away on the lug nuts. The trooper came back from the rear of my car with the

spare. He leaned it against the car near the wheel well and said, "See if you can put that on there and get a lug nut or two in place while I put your blown tire in the trunk."

The little spare tirne when you have this tire fixed. The lever on your jack is supposed to do the same thing,

but it's worthless."

Big glops of rain fell on my shoulders and drenched my hair as I toiled away on the lug nuts. The trooper came back from the rear of my car with the

spare. He leaned it against the car near the wheel well and said, "See if you can put that on there and get a lug nut or two in place while I put your blown tire in the trunk."

The little spare tire appeared to me to be facing the wrong direction, but when I pointed that out, he said, "Nope. It goes on there just like I've set it down."

"Well, if you say so ..." Of course, he knew what he was talking about, but I still couldn't get it to stay in place while I put on the first lug nut.

The cop knelt on the wet gravel beside me and loosely put on the lug nuts with his gloved hand. He muttered something else about his uniform pants or

boots. I didn't quite catch it, but I know it was along the re appeared to me to be facing the wrong direction, but when I pointed that out, he said, "Nope. It goes on there just like I've set it down."

"Well, if you say so ..." Of course, he knew what he was talking about, but I still couldn't get it to stay in place while I put on the first lug nut.

The cop knelt on the wet gravel beside me and loosely put on the lug nuts with his gloved hand. He muttered something else about his uniform pants or

boots. I didn't quite catch it, but I know it was along the same lines about the clothes not being practical issue.

"You'll have to put in a request when you get back to make the uniform more reasonable," I said, and he chuckled.

He showed me how to alternate the lug nuts when we screwed them in, and I guess he lowered the jack at about that point. With all the tools and extra parts stowed away, we stood side by side in the rain, hands on hips, admiring our work. "Looks low on air," I said about the tiny tire. It looked so out of place on Nancy.

same lines about the clothes not being practical issue.

"You'll have to put in a request when you get back to make the uniform more reasonable," I said, and he chuckled.

"It is low," he said. He told me it would be wise to stop at a convenience store on the way to Springfield and put more air in it. "But there won't be any good places between here and there to get it fixed. They're just a bunch of rinky dink gas stations." He smiled again. He was now telling me to take it slow and easy on that tire and not to attempt any sharp turns at 80 or 90 miles an hour or anything like that. He had a few freckles on his nose and cheeks, and although he was barely grinning, his hazel eyes were laughing - not at me of course, but at the rain and the whole situation. My eyes and brain took in the fact that he wasn't p; "It is low," he said. He told me it would be wise to stop at a convenience store on the way to Springfield and put more air in it. "But there won't be any good places between here and there to get it fixed. They're just a bunch of rinky dink gas stations." He smiled again. He was now telling me to take it slow and easy on that tire and not to attempt any sharp turns at 80 or 90 miles an hour or anything like that. He had a few freckles on his nose and cheeks, and although he was barely grinning, his hazel eyes were laughing - not at me of course, but at the rain and the whole situation. My eyes and brain took in the fact that he wasn't wearing a wedding ring, and his nametag said, "S.W. Boothe." I made a mental note of that, along with the numbers on his front license plate, 18-29. He was tall, even without the hat.

"Think you're OK?" he asked.

I told him everything was cool and I thanked him. I saw my arms wrap tightly around his neck, his around my waist, the two of us locked in a warm embrace as the rain bounced off his hat's plastic covering and into my hair, the 18-wheelers whizzing past on the interstate at 70 miles an hour, shaking the earth beneath our fe wearing a wedding ring, and his nametag said, "S.W. Boothe." I made a mental note of that, along with the numbers on his front license plate, 18-29. He was tall, even without the hat.

"Think you're OK?" he asked.

I told him everything was cool and I thanked him. I saw my arms wrap tightly around his neck, his around my waist, the two of us locked in a warm embrace as the rain bounced off his hat's plastic covering and into my hair, the 18-wheelers whizzing past on the interstate at 70 miles an hour, shaking the earth beneath our feet. Sigh .... . Instead, I offered him my right hand, he shook it, said, "Good luck," and disappeared back into his squad car.

April 24, 2002

Ah yes, weekends with grandparents.

My sons and I like spending the weekend in Mountain View with my mom and dad, but it's not like when I was a kid. Out of pity for my parents, I've only once or twice dropped off both boeet. Sigh .... . Instead, I offered him my right hand, he shook it, said, "Good luck," and disappeared back into his squad car.

April 24, 2002

Ah yes, weekends with grandparents.

My sons and I like spending the weekend in Mountain View with my mom and dad, but it's not like when I was a kid. Out of pity for my parents, I've only once or twice dropped off both boys to spend the weekend. Neither boy has done it on his own except on the rare occasion when I've taken the other on a "Mom & Me" campout. When we go to Grandma and Grandpa's, time is spent with me visiting Mom and Dad and the boys watching cartoons, playing Nintendo or throwing sticks at each other in the back yard. Not much visiting with grandparents actually goes on (except for when Nick has a project with which he wants Grandpa's help).

I regret the boys don't spend more time listening to and visiting with their grandparents. I lost my last grandparent in 1994, shortly before Nick turned one. I havoys to spend the weekend. Neither boy has done it on his own except on the rare occasion when I've taken the other on a "Mom & Me" campout. When we go to Grandma and Grandpa's, time is spent with me visiting Mom and Dad and the boys watching cartoons, playing Nintendo or throwing sticks at each other in the back yard. Not much visiting with grandparents actually goes on (except for when Nick has a project with which he wants Grandpa's help).

I regret the boys don't spend more time listening to and visiting with their grandparents. I lost my last grandparent in 1994, shortly before Nick turned one. I have some great memories of all four grandparents, but this is about time spent with Grandma Fidler (Grandpa died when I was 5).

From the time I was born until the middle of kindergarten, Grandma and Grandpa Fidler lived two doors down from us. I remember going through the neighbors' yard to visit, often scavenging grapes or rhubarb from Grandma's garden. She always had at least one canary. On one jaunt, I picked Grandma some pretty yellow flowers. As I entered the back door into the kitchen, I proudly handed them to her. "Stick those in the bird's cage," she said. "He likes to eat 'em." I was shockve some great memories of all four grandparents, but this is about time spent with Grandma Fidler (Grandpa died when I was 5).

From the time I was born until the middle of kindergarten, Grandma and Grandpa Fidler lived two doors down from us. I remember going through the neighbors' yard to visit, often scavenging grapes or rhubarb from Grandma's garden. She always had at least one canary. On one jaunt, I picked Grandma some pretty yellow flowers. As I entered the back door into the kitchen, I proudly handed them to her. "Stick those in the bird's cage," she said. "He likes to eat 'em." I was shocked. They were dandelions. Grandma was always kinda gruff.

It was at that house where I spent time in the basement, discovering Uncle Jerry's Mason jar full of Cracker Jack prizes and a bag of rotten malted milk Easter eggs - I spat that out pretty quick. At that house Grandma and I sat at the slate-colored, shiny Formica kitchen table, and she sent me to the bone yard when I couldn't come up with the right domino. In that kitchen I have the only memory of Grandpa Fidler that has stayed with me 34 years. He's bounding into the kitchen, wearing a gray work shirt, extending his right hand and enveloping mine in it; me lookked. They were dandelions. Grandma was always kinda gruff.

It was at that house where I spent time in the basement, discovering Uncle Jerry's Mason jar full of Cracker Jack prizes and a bag of rotten malted milk Easter eggs - I spat that out pretty quick. At that house Grandma and I sat at the slate-colored, shiny Formica kitchen table, and she sent me to the bone yard when I couldn't come up with the right domino. In that kitchen I have the only memory of Grandpa Fidler that has stayed with me 34 years. He's bounding into the kitchen, wearing a gray work shirt, extending his right hand and enveloping mine in it; me looking into his crystal blue eyes; him saying, "Howdy do!"

Later, time with Grandma was at her apartment in a senior citizens' complex. It was the best place to skateboard with lots of sidewalks. I enjoyed an

elderly audience who sat in lawn chairs and watched me round corners and come down hills. If I wasn't skateboarding, I was riding up and down the elevator. There were only two floors.

Some weekends, Grandma and I would board a bus, go downtown to hit some of her favorite stores. Downtown was fading away. I remember the king into his crystal blue eyes; him saying, "Howdy do!"

Later, time with Grandma was at her apartment in a senior citizens' complex. It was the best place to skateboard with lots of sidewalks. I enjoyed an

elderly audience who sat in lawn chairs and watched me round corners and come down hills. If I wasn't skateboarding, I was riding up and down the elevator. There were only two floors.

Some weekends, Grandma and I would board a bus, go downtown to hit some of her favorite stores. Downtown was fading away. I remember the smell of diesel as we'd wait in front of Bergner's department store for the bus home.

When it was time to go in, we would always whip up a batch of Rice Krispies treats, and if it was cold we'd make "real" hot cocoa. No mixes for Grandma. Later, she'd always have handy a 2-foot tall plastic bag of what we called "corn curls" and my sons call "cheesy poofs."

On TV, she didn't want to watch anything "silly" that I liked. We'd end up watching Lawrence Welk, and she'd give me the behind-the-scenes dish on all the dancers and the band.

Before spreading a sheet on her scratchy brown couch for the night, Grandma would make me wash my feet. She'd bring out a big metal bowl full of scalding hot water and soap, set it in front of the couch and tell me to dip 'em in. Although I protested, I must admit, it did always feel nice to slip my squeaky clean feet between the sheets.

Even though I spent time skateboarding or in the elevator, I also spent a lot of time visiting with Grandma and her friends out in the lawn chairs or at their community center. It's something I'll always treasure and I can never do again. t>

Trying To Trace Fondness For Films

Do you remember the first movie you saw on the big screen? Can you remember actually watching it? What was your reaction, and how did the experience affect you?

As I prepare to celebrate the 74th annual Academy Awards ceremony and the first Ozark Foothills Film Festival, these were a few of the questions I was pondering. How did I get so obsessed with I hope my kids realize that very soon.

Trying To Trace Fondness For Films

Do you remember the first movie you saw on the big screen? Can you remember actually watching it? What was your reaction, and how did the experience affect you?

I believe the first movie I saw in a theater was Walt Disney's The Gnome-Mobile. The 1967 live-action flick stars Walter Brennan as a crusty (surprised?) businessman who, with his niece and nephew, discovers gnomes in a redwood forest. What sticks in my mind the most is the song, "The Gnome-Mobile, the Gnome-Mobile, something, something, in the Gnome-Mobile." OK, it's the tune that I remember best - not the lyrics; and what I thought were some pretty awesome effects. How'd they get those people to look so tinh moving pictures anyway? An acquaintance asked me what my five favorite movies are and why.

I was so taken by The Gnome-Mobile, my mother bought me a Gnome-Mobile coloring book. I still have it. Ever since, I tend to obsess about the latest movie I've seen until I see another. That is, of course, unless it's one of those really lousy ones you forget by the time you get to the car.

The Gnome-Mobile didn't win any Oscars (neither did Fantasia for that matter, yet it's on the American Film Institute's 100 best list), but it held my attention long enough. A re-release of Disney's Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937) was also ny?!

There's something magical about that huge screen and the sound coming from the walls when you're a kid. At some point in our lives we lose a bit of the magic and back up, further from the screen. I guess it's when we're old enough to get a crick in our necks and we realize we can suspend our disbelief to become a part of the picture without literally making it the only thing we can see.

The first movie I saw without my parents was Freaky Friday, starring Barbara Harris and Jodie Foster as a mother and daughter who magically switch pla one of the first movies I saw.

The first movie I saw without my parents was Freaky Friday, starring Barbara Harris and Jodie Foster as a mother and daughter who magically switch places for a day - another Disney film. The folks dropped me off at the Beverly Theater on Knoxville Avenue in Peoria, Ill. A grocery store stands there now. On the way out I ran into my boyfriend (if you can call someone that in junior high). He'd been only a few rows behind me, also by himself and dropped off by his mom. That same school year, we arranged to be dropped off together at the Westlake Cinema to see Hugo the Hippo. It was a cartoon by NOT Disney, and we thought it stunk so badly, we left the theater, went across the street to look around at the mall and made it back in time to be picked up by our folks.

aces for a day - another Disney film. The folks dropped me off at the Beverly Theater on Knoxville Avenue in Peoria, Ill. A grocery store stands there now. On the way out I ran into my boyfriend (if you can call someone that in junior high). He'd been only a few rows behind me, also by himself and dropped off by his mom. That same school year, we arranged to be dropped off together at the Westlake Cinema to see Hugo the Hippo. It was a cartoon by NOT Disney, and we thought it stunk so badly, we left the theater, went across the street to look around at the mall and made it back in time to be picked up by our folks.

Until I could drive, I was dropped off or rode with my brother and his friends to a movie of their choosing. It was that way in which I rumbled in my seat at the Beverly while Charlton Heston saved the day in Earthquake, originally released in "Sensurround." Mike also took me to Jaws, and I am forever grateful.

When I got my driver's license, I began spending weekend afternoons at the theaters. The first R-rated flick I was allowed to see was Saturday Night Fever. The Amityville Horror followed close behind. Because I was in my mid- to late-teens didn't mean I was one of t; Until I could drive, I was dropped off or rode with my brother and his friends to a movie of their choosing. It was that way in which I rumbled in my seat at the Beverly while Charlton Heston saved the day in Earthquake, originally released in "Sensurround." Mike also took me to Jaws, and I am forever grateful.

When I got my driver's license, I began spending weekend afternoons at the theaters. The first R-rated flick I was allowed to see was Saturday Night Fever. The Amityville Horror followed close behind. Because I was in my mid- to late-teens didn't mean I was one of those typical, embarrassed-by-her-parents teen. I always enjoyed going to the movies with my folks. Together, we went to see Alien and Airplane in 1979 and '80. OK, when Dad burst out and laughed so hard he cried during the part in Airplane when the "stuff" literally hit the fan, I did sink down in my seat a bit.

It all goes back to the question about my five favorites. I can't answer. The fact is, the answer changes weekly when a new movie comes out. Of course, some stay on the list, like One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest and Monty Python and the Holy Grail, but the rest rothose typical, embarrassed-by-her-parents teen. I always enjoyed going to the movies with my folks. Together, we went to see Alien and Airplane in 1979 and '80. OK, when Dad burst out and laughed so hard he cried during the part in Airplane when the "stuff" literally hit the fan, I did sink down in my seat a bit.

There's More to a Basement Than Cinderblock

basement (bas`ment) n. a story of a building, partly or wholly underground

That's how Webster defines "basement." Although that's an apt description, it barely touches on what I think about when someone says "basement."

There's More to a Basement Than Cinderblock

basement (bas`ment) n. a story of a building, partly or wholly underground

That's how Webster defines "basement." Although that's an apt description, it barely touches on what I think about when someone says "basement."

Much of "That '70s Show" is set in Eric Forman's basement. It's the hangout for him and five close friends. There, they watch TV, discuss the latest goings on, decide what to do and where to go, and of course, we are led to believe they are imbibing in a certain, illegal green leafy substance.

I can honestly say the latter activity was not what my friends and I were doing in our basements in the late 1970s. But then, we were a bit square and proud of it. There are lots of good memories from the basement. Basements are kind of rare in this part of the country; but everyone in myal" size="2"> Much of "That '70s Show" is set in Eric Forman's basement. It's the hangout for him and five close friends. There, they watch TV, discuss the latest goings on, decide what to do and where to go, and of course, we are led to believe they are imbibing in a certain, illegal green leafy substance.

In addition to a hangout, it was where the family went during a tornado warning. In ours, we had a laundry room. That's where the sump pump was, and it was there where we gathered, with our black and white portable TV, to wait for the all-clear. Nearby was Dad's workbench and all of his tools. Under the workbench was a big bucket full of black walnuts, picked off the ground under trees in the often-dry creek behind our house. In times we were confined downstairs, and sometimes when we chosey suburban, Midwestern neighborhood had one. Gosh, I miss the basement - and I pity my children for not having one.

In addition to a hangout, it was where the family went during a tornado warning. In ours, we had a laundry room. That's where the sump pump was, and it was there where we gathered, with our black and white portable TV, to wait for the all-clear. Nearby was Dad's workbench and all of his tools. Under the workbench was a big bucket full of black walnuts, picked off the ground under trees in the often-dry creek behind our house. In times we were confined downstairs, and sometimes when we chose to be there, we would get out a claw hammer, a handful of walnuts and a big steel piece of railroad track and crack the nuts, plucking the meat out of the shells on the cold cement basement floor. There was also a big freezer close at hand where ice cream bars were among the bounty.

Mostly the basement was used for recreation and entertaining friends. There was an old sofa and chair in front of a fake fireplace, a dartboard, a billiard table, an old stereo, a closet full of board games and lots of room for a dance floor. It was there in eighth grade where my 13-year-old boyfriend and I worked out a routinee to be there, we would get out a claw hammer, a handful of walnuts and a big steel piece of railroad track and crack the nuts, plucking the meat out of the shells on the cold cement basement floor. There was also a big freezer close at hand where ice cream bars were among the bounty.

Mostly the basement was used for recreation and entertaining friends. There was an old sofa and chair in front of a fake fireplace, a dartboard, a billiard table, an old stereo, a closet full of board games and lots of room for a dance floor. It was there in eighth grade where my 13-year-old boyfriend and I worked out a routine that included moves from the bump, the hustle and the bus stop. We worked on it each night for a week before the Valentine dance. Wearing our matching paisley shirts and corduroy Levi's, we would wow everyone in the junior high gym (well, the teachers at least).

I used the same dance floor when I was alone to imitate the exact moves performed by the Osmond brothers to "One Bad Apple."

The basement was a great place for slumber parties. All my girlfriends would eat pizza, play Mystery Date and 8-ball and listen to our favorite records. It nevere that included moves from the bump, the hustle and the bus stop. We worked on it each night for a week before the Valentine dance. Wearing our matching paisley shirts and corduroy Levi's, we would wow everyone in the junior high gym (well, the teachers at least).

I used the same dance floor when I was alone to imitate the exact moves performed by the Osmond brothers to "One Bad Apple."

The basement was a great place for slumber parties. All my girlfriends would eat pizza, play Mystery Date and 8-ball and listen to our favorite records. It never failed that, sometime during the night, there would come a pounding from above our heads. It emanated from the floor of my parents' room. We'd quiet down for a bit, but it didn't last. At least once at each gathering, water would flow through the floorboards over the pool table and we'd have to run upstairs, grab the plumber's helper and clear up a clogged toilet. The culprit was duly teased for an extended period. And whoever fell asleep first would suffer the consequences - either peanut butter between their toes, fingers in warm water or a bra in the big freezer.

Ah, those were the days. So, you see, a r failed that, sometime during the night, there would come a pounding from above our heads. It emanated from the floor of my parents' room. We'd quiet down for a bit, but it didn't last. At least once at each gathering, water would flow through the floorboards over the pool table and we'd have to run upstairs, grab the plumber's helper and clear up a clogged toilet. The culprit was duly teased for an extended period. And whoever fell asleep first would suffer the consequences - either peanut butter between their toes, fingers in warm water or a bra in the big freezer.

Ah, those were the days. So, you see, a basement is more than an encasing of cinderblock beneath the earth, 10 degrees below room temperature. It's a place for friends, family and memories.

Julie M. Fidler is a freelance writer living in Batesville.

March 6, 2001

On Christmas Eve, I was searching for a turntable for my LPs and 45s. I might as well have been looking for a Victrola or perhaps the Holy Grail.

The boys were away for a few days, and I planned basement is more than an encasing of cinderblock beneath the earth, 10 degrees below room temperature. It's a place for friends, family and memories.

Julie M. Fidler is a freelance writer living in Batesville.

March 6, 2001

On Christmas Eve, I was searching for a turntable for my LPs and 45s. I might as well have been looking for a Victrola or perhaps the Holy Grail.

The boys were away for a few days, and I planned to spend the day before Christmas and Christmas morning cleaning house. Sounds crazy, I know, and not very holiday-like, but that was the plan. To get in the spirit to clean and, in order to stay motivated while cleaning, I usually crank up the stereo with some of my favorite '70s tunes. I've listened to the same CD collections over and over and really didn't feel too awful inspired about hearing them again while doing the dishes or laundry this time.

I was on my way home from one store and was thinking about all of my vinyl records (dozens and dozens of them) when I decided I'd stop in at Radio Shack to se to spend the day before Christmas and Christmas morning cleaning house. Sounds crazy, I know, and not very holiday-like, but that was the plan. To get in the spirit to clean and, in order to stay motivated while cleaning, I usually crank up the stereo with some of my favorite '70s tunes. I've listened to the same CD collections over and over and really didn't feel too awful inspired about hearing them again while doing the dishes or laundry this time.

I was on my way home from one store and was thinking about all of my vinyl records (dozens and dozens of them) when I decided I'd stop in at Radio Shack to see if perhaps they had a turntable that could be plugged into the "aux in" on my surround-sound stereo. They were fresh out. However, you can order one for around 100 bucks. That wasn't quick enough, so I thanked the nice and helpful store employee, and decided to search elsewhere.

I went to another store that sells stereos. Again, the person who waited on me was very friendly, but there were no turntables in stock. He spent a long time looking in a catalog and found one that could be ordered for the same cost.

On to another store. There, I was ee if perhaps they had a turntable that could be plugged into the "aux in" on my surround-sound stereo. They were fresh out. However, you can order one for around 100 bucks. That wasn't quick enough, so I thanked the nice and helpful store employee, and decided to search elsewhere.

On to another store. There, I was about to leave because I wasn't getting waited on, when a young girl about half my age called to me from behind the counter. I told her what I was after, and she said, "Uhhhhh ... let me check." She got on the phone with someone who apparently was a real gas, because she laughed and laughed. "No, I mean it," she said into the receiver.

She hung the phone up and, trying to keep a straight face, reported to me that they didn't have what I was looking for in stock. Surprise, surprise. She didn't offer to order anything for me. I won't be going back there.

I went home, disappointed, and called a couple more places that really didn't have that sort of thing. A bit bummed, I started my cleaning, which included dusting the stacks of albums and singles. They're stored atop my old disco stereo with the 8-track tape player. It could probably be fixed up, and I could play those records for less than the cost of the new turntable. Who knows?

I gave up the quest at that point though, feeling like an ancient being from another era.

I went home, disappointed, and called a couple more places that really didn't have that sort of thing. A bit bummed, I started my cleaning, which included dusting the stacks of albums and singles. They're stored atop my old disco stereo with the 8-track tape player. It could probably be fixed up, and I could play those records for less than the cost of the new turntable. Who knows?

I gave up the quest at that point though, feeling like an ancient being from another era.

Blue Light Specials May Be Winding Down

The days of the blue light special may be coming to an end.

Even Martha Stewart is contemplating terminating her association with Kmart Corp. if it files for Chapter 11 bankruptcy. According to the Wall Street Journal, a bankruptcy filing was one of several options facing Kmart directors as they met last week to determine a plan of action. At this writing, directors were keeping their mouths shut as to a possible outcome.

Following yearsnt face="Arial" size="2">Blue Light Specials May Be Winding Down

The days of the blue light special may be coming to an end.

Following years of market-share loss to Wal-Mart Stores Inc. and Target Corp., a dismal Christmas reduced Kmart's prospects for surviving this year outside of bankruptcy court.

This whole thing saddens me. Where I grew up, in Peoria, Ill., there was no Wal-Mart. I'd never heard of Wal-Mart until I came to Arkansas in 1981. My family had what I considered a great relationship with Kresge and Kmart.

Sebastian Spering Kresge of the Detroit area was Sam Walton before Sam Walton was. Kresge opened his first store over 100 years ago, and by 1937, he had opened a store ins of market-share loss to Wal-Mart Stores Inc. and Target Corp., a dismal Christmas reduced Kmart's prospects for surviving this year outside of bankruptcy court.

Sebastian Spering Kresge of the Detroit area was Sam Walton before Sam Walton was. Kresge opened his first store over 100 years ago, and by 1937, he had opened a store in the country's first suburban shopping center in Kansas City, Mo. The first Kmart opened in 1962 in Garden City, Mich. By 1966, sales in 162 Kmart stores and 753 Kresge stores topped the $1 billion mark. In 1976, S.S. Kresge made history by opening 271 Kmart stores in one year.

In 1977, the year before my stint as a Kmart employee, nearly 95 percent of S.S. Kresge Company sales were generated by Kmart stores. In '87, Kmart Corp. sold the remaining Kresge stores to concentrate on discount merchandising.

My parents were Kresge employees and shoppers wan the country's first suburban shopping center in Kansas City, Mo. The first Kmart opened in 1962 in Garden City, Mich. By 1966, sales in 162 Kmart stores and 753 Kresge stores topped the $1 billion mark. In 1976, S.S. Kresge made history by opening 271 Kmart stores in one year.

My parents were Kresge employees and shoppers way before I was born. In the mid-1940s, they both worked at the Kresge in Peoria, although they didn't meet until later when they both, coincidentally, were working at a Newbury's. One of my brothers also worked for a time at a Peoria Kresge.

My earliest memory of Kmart is of getting lost. I can remember being so little, I followed my shopping mother along and kept track of her by the color of her coat. This time, when I looked up at the lady wearing the coat, it wasn't my mother! I don't recall how I got from there to the courtesy desk, but that's where I wound up.

ay before I was born. In the mid-1940s, they both worked at the Kresge in Peoria, although they didn't meet until later when they both, coincidentally, were working at a Newbury's. One of my brothers also worked for a time at a Peoria Kresge.

I sat on the counter of the courtesy desk in the front of the store, happily chewing on a piece of candy, while an employee announced, "We have a lost little girl at the front desk with big brown eyes who says her name is Julie. If you have lost this girl, please pick her up at the courtesy desk." Boy was Mom angry.

The next memories include being big enough to be let loose in the Kmart during an era when most parents didn't have to be afraid their children would be snatched up by a pervert. I was around 7 or 8 and, as long as my brother, four years my senior, was with me, we got to lo> I sat on the counter of the courtesy desk in the front of the store, happily chewing on a piece of candy, while an employee announced, "We have a lost little girl at the front desk with big brown eyes who says her name is Julie. If you have lost this girl, please pick her up at the courtesy desk." Boy was Mom angry.

The next memories include being big enough to be let loose in the Kmart during an era when most parents didn't have to be afraid their children would be snatched up by a pervert. I was around 7 or 8 and, as long as my brother, four years my senior, was with me, we got to look around and meet our parents at the check out. I can remember Mike and me spending our allowances on 45 rpm records for 67 cents a piece, Hot Wheels cars and goop for our Creepy Crawlers Thingmaker. When they added on a grocery portion to our local Kmart, Mike and I spent the entire time our parents were grocery shopping in the toy and record aisles. All the while, announcements of ladies lingerie on blue light special for the next 15 minutes echoed throughout the store.

Some Saturday noons, after a frantic morning of cross-town garage saling, would find Mom, her sister Aunt Dorothy, and me sitting in theook around and meet our parents at the check out. I can remember Mike and me spending our allowances on 45 rpm records for 67 cents a piece, Hot Wheels cars and goop for our Creepy Crawlers Thingmaker. When they added on a grocery portion to our local Kmart, Mike and I spent the entire time our parents were grocery shopping in the toy and record aisles. All the while, announcements of ladies lingerie on blue light special for the next 15 minutes echoed throughout the store.

Some Saturday noons, after a frantic morning of cross-town garage saling, would find Mom, her sister Aunt Dorothy, and me sitting in the Kmart snack bar for lunch. I usually got a hot dog or a hamburger and finished my meal much quicker than Mom and my aunt, who wanted to sip slowly on their sodas while they visited and Aunt Dorothy smoked a cigarette or two. While they were reflecting on their garage sale finds, I would excuse myself and look at the $2-rings and necklaces in the jewelry department.

Later, my mother got a part-time job at Kmart in the snack bar. I remember her deciding to return to being a full-time mom after purchasing a small black and white TV for the kitchen. When a mall was built in 1973, Kmart became uncool. I dide Kmart snack bar for lunch. I usually got a hot dog or a hamburger and finished my meal much quicker than Mom and my aunt, who wanted to sip slowly on their sodas while they visited and Aunt Dorothy smoked a cigarette or two. While they were reflecting on their garage sale finds, I would excuse myself and look at the $2-rings and necklaces in the jewelry department.

Later, my mother got a part-time job at Kmart in the snack bar. I remember her deciding to return to being a full-time mom after purchasing a small black and white TV for the kitchen. When a mall was built in 1973, Kmart became uncool. I didn't care. While my best friend, the daughter of a physician, said she would never stoop so low as to buy her clothing at Kmart, my brother and I were excited to pick out our back-to-school wardrobes there.

I worked at Kmart from Nov. 20 through Dec. 16, 1978. I was 15, but I lied on the application and claimed to be 16 because I wanted the job. Because I wasn't yet old enough to drive, my parents had to drop me off and pick me up, sometimes in the terrible central Illinois winter weather. The whole thing was a rewarding experience for me, though. I mostly worked as a cashier up front, back in the day when edn't care. While my best friend, the daughter of a physician, said she would never stoop so low as to buy her clothing at Kmart, my brother and I were excited to pick out our back-to-school wardrobes there.

I worked at Kmart from Nov. 20 through Dec. 16, 1978. I was 15, but I lied on the application and claimed to be 16 because I wanted the job. Because I wasn't yet old enough to drive, my parents had to drop me off and pick me up, sometimes in the terrible central Illinois winter weather. The whole thing was a rewarding experience for me, though. I mostly worked as a cashier up front, back in the day when every item had a price tag on it. There were no scanners or bar codes. We had to memorize the cash register keypad, and each department had a different color tag. So, I'd have to punch in the color and price for each item. I spent a couple of really fun days sticking price tags to toys and then shelving them. I also met a cute guy from the stereo department who dubbed me "the rose-colored glasses girl." Fitting, because my glasses were indeed tinted pink.

I was paid minimum wage -- $2.75 an hour. My first paycheck was for $33.17 for 13 hours. It was given to me in cash in an envelope as were all &qevery item had a price tag on it. There were no scanners or bar codes. We had to memorize the cash register keypad, and each department had a different color tag. So, I'd have to punch in the color and price for each item. I spent a couple of really fun days sticking price tags to toys and then shelving them. I also met a cute guy from the stereo department who dubbed me "the rose-colored glasses girl." Fitting, because my glasses were indeed tinted pink.

I was paid minimum wage -- $2.75 an hour. My first paycheck was for $33.17 for 13 hours. It was given to me in cash in an envelope as were all "paychecks" at the Kmart. I usually spent my paychecks right in the store while I was on break. My purchases included some big puffy nylon snow boots that looked like something Mork from Ork would wear and a fluffy blue bathrobe for my mom for Christmas. That robe, at $17, was the most expensive gift I'd ever bought anyone, and I was so proud to get it for my mother with money I'd worked for.

If Kmart closes, a tiny chunk of me will be gone. But you can't declare bankruptcy on memories.

quot;paychecks" at the Kmart. I usually spent my paychecks right in the store while I was on break. My purchases included some big puffy nylon snow boots that looked like something Mork from Ork would wear and a fluffy blue bathrobe for my mom for Christmas. That robe, at $17, was the most expensive gift I'd ever bought anyone, and I was so proud to get it for my mother with money I'd worked for.

If Kmart closes, a tiny chunk of me will be gone. But you can't declare bankruptcy on memories.

January 16, 2002

Lie Detector Not Necessary With Mom Around

Have you heard about those new lie detectors?

According to the journal Nature last week, a heat-sensing camera trained on people's faces was able to detect liars in a study that hints at a way of spotting terrorists at airports.

The Associated Press reported, in six of eight people who lied, January 16, 2002

Lie Detector Not Necessary With Mom Around

Have you heard about those new lie detectors?

According to the journal Nature last week, a heat-sensing camera trained on people's faces was able to detect liars in a study that hints at a way of spotting terrorists at airports.

The Associated Press reported, in six of eight people who lied, the high-resolution thermal imaging camera detected a faint blushing around their eyes that Mayo Clinic researchers said is evidence of deception. The experiment involved just 20 Army recruits. They were randomly assigned to either stab a mannequin and take a $20 bill from its clothing, or not carry out the staged crime.

The recruits were then filmed with the thermal imager as they were subjected to the same questions, with the mannequin-robbers instructed in advance to lie about their theft. Six of the eight "robbers" showed the telltale heat patterns around their eyes. Eleven of the 12 other volunte the high-resolution thermal imaging camera detected a faint blushing around their eyes that Mayo Clinic researchers said is evidence of deception. The experiment involved just 20 Army recruits. They were randomly assigned to either stab a mannequin and take a $20 bill from its clothing, or not carry out the staged crime.

What about those three that the imager wasn't able to figure out? I say they were probably Taliban spies.

I think it would be a lot cheaper than furthering this line of thermal lie detector research to just hire moms. Just place a mother at each airport metal detector and have her ask each airline passenger a few questions.

I can see it now: "Are you carrying any weapons?" "Did you pack your own bags?" "Has your luggage been in your eers were correctly tagged as innocent.

What about those three that the imager wasn't able to figure out? I say they were probably Taliban spies.

I can see it now: "Are you carrying any weapons?" "Did you pack your own bags?" "Has your luggage been in your possession since you packed it?" "Did you bring enough changes of clean underwear?"

There's no way even those crazy Bin Laden-following freaks could get away with lying to their mothers.

Your mother doesn't need no stinkin' thermal camera. But, like the thermal camera, she looks at your face and straight into your eyes. Through those portals, she can see exactly what you're thinking and whether or not it's the truth.

I've found this technique just comes naturally to a mother abou possession since you packed it?" "Did you bring enough changes of clean underwear?"

There's no way even those crazy Bin Laden-following freaks could get away with lying to their mothers.

I've found this technique just comes naturally to a mother about the time her child learns to speak. And, coincidentally, lying comes naturally to the child at about the same time. What's scary is, the child who can spew out a lie, or a string of them, without intention and then look his mother straight in the eye to see if she bought it or not.

My oldest son had a recent lying episode which began with "I found it outside" and led to many tears between mother and son and no Nintendo for a week. That'd teach those would-be terrorists!

* * *

&ut the time her child learns to speak. And, coincidentally, lying comes naturally to the child at about the same time. What's scary is, the child who can spew out a lie, or a string of them, without intention and then look his mother straight in the eye to see if she bought it or not.

My oldest son had a recent lying episode which began with "I found it outside" and led to many tears between mother and son and no Nintendo for a week. That'd teach those would-be terrorists!

* * *

And speaking of mothers, would y'all pray for Olive Osmond? She's the mother of Donny, Marie and the whole Osmond clan. She had a serious stroke in November and remains in critical, but stable condition.

A big thanks to everyone who commented on me getting to meet (and touch) Donny Osmond - especially to those who did it without adding something snide. It was the eve before Christmas Eve, and after the 3 p.m. show in Fayetteville, I was given a VIP pass and told to hang out for about 10 minutes.

When I got closer to Donny, I could tell he was pretty And speaking of mothers, would y'all pray for Olive Osmond? She's the mother of Donny, Marie and the whole Osmond clan. She had a serious stroke in November and remains in critical, but stable condition.

When I got closer to Donny, I could tell he was pretty beat, and when he put his hand on my shoulder for a picture, my mother instinct went into overdrive. I sensed just how tired he was, how much he wanted to be home with his wife, Debbie, and five sons and how terribly worried he was about his mother. I asked him about her condition and he thanked me and said everyone's prayers are helping. I later found out that Donny didn't stay around to meet fans after the 7 p.m. show - he headed straight home to Utah.

A friend from the United Kingdom will arrive for holiday in a couple days and I'm bloody y beat, and when he put his hand on my shoulder for a picture, my mother instinct went into overdrive. I sensed just how tired he was, how much he wanted to be home with his wife, Debbie, and five sons and how terribly worried he was about his mother. I asked him about her condition and he thanked me and said everyone's prayers are helping. I later found out that Donny didn't stay around to meet fans after the 7 p.m. show - he headed straight home to Utah.

A friend from the United Kingdom will arrive for holiday in a couple days and I'm bloody knackered from all the housework. This bloke from Ashby, Scunthorpe, North Lincolnshire, England, called Roy, and Harry Potter, another Englishman, will arrive in the good ol' U.S. of A. on the same day. In fact we'll likely queue early to get our tickets at the cinema to see "Harry Potter and the Philospher's Stone" this weekend. My sons and their mates are equally excited to see both.

Say what? I'm boning up on my English. A friend from England and I will be trying to communicate face to face beginning Friday night, but there's a big difference between speaking British English and American knackered from all the housework. This bloke from Ashby, Scunthorpe, North Lincolnshire, England, called Roy, and Harry Potter, another Englishman, will arrive in the good ol' U.S. of A. on the same day. In fact we'll likely queue early to get our tickets at the cinema to see "Harry Potter and the Philospher's Stone" this weekend. My sons and their mates are equally excited to see both.

A friend from the United Kingdom will arrive for vacation in a couple of days and I'm dog tired. This guy named Roy from Ashby, Scunthorpe, North Lincolnshire, England, and Harry Potter, another Englishman, will arrive in the good ol' U.S. of A. on the same day. In fact we'll likely line up early to get our tickets at the movie theater to see "Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone" this weekend. My sons and their friends are equally excited to see both.

I've been a bit n English. The paragraph above is written in English. In American, it would go more like this:

I've been a bit of an Anglophile since I was a little kid. It started when my parents would watch "Monty Python's Flying Circus" on PBS, and my brother and I watched too. Funny stuff, that. I loved the wicked sense of humor and the English accents. Although Roy says the only Python with a good accent is Michael Palin. I take it that's because both blokes are from Northern England.

My mother traced her roots back to several places in the U.K. and northern England and always wanted to travel there. While I was a student at Arkansas College, my interest grew even more as I got into watching more British movies and television of an Anglophile since I was a little kid. It started when my parents would watch "Monty Python's Flying Circus" on PBS, and my brother and I watched too. Funny stuff, that. I loved the wicked sense of humor and the English accents. Although Roy says the only Python with a good accent is Michael Palin. I take it that's because both blokes are from Northern England.

My mother traced her roots back to several places in the U.K. and northern England and always wanted to travel there. While I was a student at Arkansas College, my interest grew even more as I got into watching more British movies and television and listened to some music with English origins. I was lucky enough to spend the month of January 1985 in London and surrounding areas with a History of London class. The language and cultural differences are great, but the country grew on me so much, I shed some tears when it came time to come back home.

The first few times Roy and I talked by phone, I had a hard time understanding him. Mostly, it was the accent. I told him to slow down a bit for me. Part of it was the slang, though, and some of the same words we used meant different things. When I told him "happy hump day," he thought I was being quite naugn and listened to some music with English origins. I was lucky enough to spend the month of January 1985 in London and surrounding areas with a History of London class. The language and cultural differences are great, but the country grew on me so much, I shed some tears when it came time to come back home.

When he eats chips, they ain't Wavy Lays. They're french fries. And when he eats Lays, he calls them crisps. Of course we think "shag" is funny, but don't say it in Roy's neighborhood unless you mean to talk like a sailor. Snog means to make out, and scrum and tukka are food.

So, right, then. Hopefully, we'll get this all figured out.

October 31, 2001

Ever get tired of wasting your breath? Tired of saying the same ol' thinghty.

So, right, then. Hopefully, we'll get this all figured out.

October 31, 2001

Ever get tired of wasting your breath? Tired of saying the same ol' thing to your children, over and over, day in and day out? Beginning to wonder why you bother?

If this sounds like you, try our new numbered speeches, sayings and reminders. The next time your oldest son leaves his dirty socks in the middle of the living room floor, all you have to do is pull out your handy, dandy, laminated card and say, "Bubba, Number 7!"

Then, Bubba refers to his copy of the card and sees you're telling him: "Get your nasty socks off my living room floor, and put them in the dirty clothes hamper. And don't leave them all balled up like that or they won't get clean in the wash. And make sure they're not inside out so that I don't have to waste my time pulling each sock in the hamper right side out before I put it in the washer. I spend all my time picking up after you. I'm not your maid."

How many words does that save? Seventy-six. And the effect is still the same! Think about it.

What about when little brother won't get up and get dressed for school in the morning? Every morning. Refer to your card. Shout at him, "Junior! Number 12!"

This tellst or they won't get clean in the wash. And make sure they're not inside out so that I don't have to waste my time pulling each sock in the hamper right side out before I put it in the washer. I spend all my time picking up after you. I'm not your maid."

How many words does that save? Seventy-six. And the effect is still the same! Think about it.

What about when little brother won't get up and get dressed for school in the morning? Every morning. Refer to your card. Shout at him, "Junior! Number 12!"

This tells Junior: "Get up! We're going to be late! You'd better get yourself some clothes on, wash your face, brush your teeth, comb your hair and eat some breakfast. Don't forget to put on your socks and shoes, and tie your shoes. Make sure you have your lunch money, and don't lose it before you get to school!" Words saved? Fifty-three.

This brilliant idea was developed in the mid-1970s by two Midwestern children who heard the same things from their parents, over and over. Out of kindness for their father, who was an engineer and prone to windy, drawn-out, technical answers, the brother and sister sought to save hs Junior: "Get up! We're going to be late! You'd better get yourself some clothes on, wash your face, brush your teeth, comb your hair and eat some breakfast. Don't forget to put on your socks and shoes, and tie your shoes. Make sure you have your lunch money, and don't lose it before you get to school!" Words saved? Fifty-three.

This father became known throughout the subdivision for his 800-word descriptions and histories of the cathode ray tube when asked how a television works. His shorter answers to other questions, usually involving the forfeiture of cash money, were oft-repeated and boiled down to one of two standard responses: A) Money doesn't grow on trees; and B) Now that I'm retired, I don't have an income that lends itself to buying everything one desires.

Newer responses have been developed to accommodate today's single mother. These include such gems as:

him some trouble.

Newer responses have been developed to accommodate today's single mother. These include such gems as:

#4: Please untie your shoes before you take them off or, if they're already tied, untie them before you put them on. Putting them on and taking them off with the laces tied causes undue wear and tear on your shoes, which will need to be replaced every other week at this rate, and I don't have that kind of money.

#6: Take your medicine and your vitamins at breakfast. You might as well take them while you're sitting there anyway, and that way you'll remember to take them every morning at the same time and I won't have to remind you again.

#9: Don't wear your socks or your watch to bed. That can't be comfortable. Your feet and your wrist need to breathe.

#10: By the time you reach puberty, and you have, you should take a shower and wash your hair every day. Please comb your hair when you get out of the shower, leave the bathroom in the shape you found it, and don't leave a wet towel on your bedroom floor. I'm not your maid.

#14: Take your elbows off the table. It's just not good manners, that's why.

#16: Breathe through your nose. No one likes a mouth-breather.9: Don't wear your socks or your watch to bed. That can't be comfortable. Your feet and your wrist need to breathe.

#14: Take your elbows off the table. It's just not good manners, that's why.

#16: Breathe through your nose. No one likes a mouth-breather. Gross.

#19: Don't go outside in your stocking feet. You'll step on something and cut your foot wide open, and the stains on your socks will be impossible to get out, especially when we end up washing them inside out.

#22: Put your dirty clothes in the dirty clothes hamper. Don't leave them on your bedroom floor, in the hallway or the bathtub. I'm not your maid.

#24: If you get something out, but it back. I'm not your maid.

#30: Close the bread wrapper (cereal box, Tupperware bow. Gross.

#22: Put your dirty clothes in the dirty clothes hamper. Don't leave them on your bedroom floor, in the hallway or the bathtub. I'm not your maid.

#24: If you get something out, but it back. I'm not your maid.

#30: Close the bread wrapper (cereal box, Tupperware bowl, insert what you want here) when you're done. It'll get stale if you don't and ruin. And I can't afford to throw away good food.

Julie M. Fidler is a free-lance writer living in Batesville

August 22, 2001

Worst camping experiences make most memorable

2001 has not been a banner year for camping for my family.

Julie M. Fidler is a free-lance writer living in Batesville

August 22, 2001

Worst camping experiences make most memorable

2001 has not been a banner year for camping for my family.

By camping, I mean pitching a tent and sleeping in it - not pulling up to a concrete or gravel pad, unhitching the fifth wheel, hooking up the sewer line, setting up the satellite dish and switching on the AC. Although, that would be my preferred way of camping, could we afford it.

I'm talking about what is known in campground lingo as "primitive camping." I always try to make it less primitive every time we go, adding a porta-potty here, a Coleman cook stove there; but somehow, I still end up feeling like Wilma Flintstone by the end of the experience.

Back in April was our first trip of the year. I've written about that one — where the brutal wind whipped through and blew down the tent occupied by our campsite neighbors while I chuckled because I'd added tent "power pegs" to our list of things to bring. It was on that trip I sat on a greasy railroad tie at the tent pad and ruined my new blue jeans.

In May, we were unable to get into our favorite, less expensive campsite and paid nearly motel rates for a "wilderness site" at an RV park across the road. It was there that it poured rain from the time we pitched our tent on Friday ni="Arial">Back in April was our first trip of the year. I've written about that one — where the brutal wind whipped through and blew down the tent occupied by our campsite neighbors while I chuckled because I'd added tent "power pegs" to our list of things to bring. It was on that trip I sat on a greasy railroad tie at the tent pad and ruined my new blue jeans.

In June, it was about 125 degrees outside. We made it through the first night, swimming in a nearby lake until dinnertime. The second day, we swam all day long, and by the time the lake closed around dinner, it was about 130 degrees out. We were contemplating starting up the campfire when I began to feel faint. The boys were lethargic. So, I dug into some reserve money, and we fled to a nearby motel.

We returned to the campsite the next day to take down our tent and pack our thinight to the time we dismantled it on Sunday. Everything in our inventory was caked with mud.

We returned to the campsite the next day to take down our tent and pack our things before hitting the swimming hole. With everything packed, we arrived at the lake where a clap of thunder sounded, the lake was evacuated and the storm blew in. We spent the rest of that day under a picnic shelter watching the lightning and sheets of rain while cooking chicken on the stove.

This past weekend, the weather in Missouri was relatively cool, but the skies were threatening. We went through some rain on the way, but it appeared to clear up when we arrived at the campground. This time, though, our plastic power pegs were not strong enough to pound into the tent pad; the rain began the next afternoon and ngs before hitting the swimming hole. With everything packed, we arrived at the lake where a clap of thunder sounded, the lake was evacuated and the storm blew in. We spent the rest of that day under a picnic shelter watching the lightning and sheets of rain while cooking chicken on the stove.

We three are not disheartened by our camping misfortunes. Rather, I tell the boys these will be the trips they remember. In fact, the two camping trips I remember most from my childhood included one in a popup camper along the Mississippi River where it poured, water flowing rapidly under the camper in which our parents sat, while my brothers and I tossed frogs into the Big Muddy; and another time when we rented a tent right next to the campground dumpster and the stench ran us away in the middle of the night.

Ah yes, it's all a part of drove us out of town a day early.

Ah yes, it's all a part of making memories for future reminiscing.

Julie M. Fidler is a freelance writer, living in Batesville. She may be reached by e-mail at [email protected]

August 8, 2001

It's that time of year again -- back to school. Of course, the stores have been putting out their "back to school" stuff since school let out, but now we're really coming down to crunch time.

Ever since f making memories for future reminiscing.

Julie M. Fidler is a freelance writer, living in Batesville. She may be reached by e-mail at [email protected]

August 8, 2001

It's that time of year again -- back to school. Of course, the stores have been putting out their "back to school" stuff since school let out, but now we're really coming down to crunch time.

Ever since I was a little kid I've liked school shopping. There's nothing better than the smell of a school just before the first day of classes in the fall. The fragrance of crayons wafting through the air, the smell of new textbooks, clean desks and the scent of freshly sharpened pencils mixed in somewhere -- ahh, I can smell it now.

I'm seriously looking forward to buying my boys' school supplies within the next couple of weeks. The one going into third grade got his list of needed stuff with his report card at the end of the last school year. The one going into junior high school will be a little more difficult, it appears. He has bee I was a little kid I've liked school shopping. There's nothing better than the smell of a school just before the first day of classes in the fall. The fragrance of crayons wafting through the air, the smell of new textbooks, clean desks and the scent of freshly sharpened pencils mixed in somewhere -- ahh, I can smell it now.

I'm seriously looking forward to buying my boys' school supplies within the next couple of weeks. The one going into third grade got his list of needed stuff with his report card at the end of the last school year. The one going into junior high school will be a little more difficult, it appears. He has been told to bring a pencil and piece of paper with him the first day, and each teacher in each class will tell him what he needs in the way of supplies. That could be a problem. I can see the kiddo losing the list or failing to write something down in one class or the other; and when he gets home with the list, it'll be straight to the store with it, like umpteen hundred other seventh- through ninth-graders. Oh my -- there'll be no Harry Potter stuff left, I fear.

Nowadays, kids have so much more to choose from. If they have a favorite cartoon hero, fictional character, singing group, whatever, they'll find them on notebooks,en told to bring a pencil and piece of paper with him the first day, and each teacher in each class will tell him what he needs in the way of supplies. That could be a problem. I can see the kiddo losing the list or failing to write something down in one class or the other; and when he gets home with the list, it'll be straight to the store with it, like umpteen hundred other seventh- through ninth-graders. Oh my -- there'll be no Harry Potter stuff left, I fear.

Nowadays, kids have so much more to choose from. If they have a favorite cartoon hero, fictional character, singing group, whatever, they'll find them on notebooks, lunch boxes, backpacks, pencils, folders, you name it.

When I was a kid, we had plain old 3-ring notebooks, although there was the occasional one with some cool flowers or designs on it. And, we did have some great lunchboxes then, which if you still have in good shape stuck away somewhere, are worth a fortune on E-bay.

I was a closet Donny Osmond fan when I was in fifth grade, so I picked out a Donny notebook. Not really wanting anyone to know I liked Donny, I clipped out pictures of my true fave, Tony DeFranco, from Tiger Beat and decoupaged over Donny's face with Tony's. I did the sam, lunch boxes, backpacks, pencils, folders, you name it.

I wasn't nearly so enamored with the school supplies as much as with the clothing. My mother always bought my brothers and me at least one week's worth of outfits before the start of school each year. I don't know how she did it with my oldest brother, eight years my senior, but with Mike and me, she'd take us to Kmart and Venture together and set us loose to pick out our outfits.

Nothing was too outrageous in the early and mid-1970s for my open-minded mother. One year, Mike and I made it to the checkout with matching flare jeans, striped vertically in shades of brown, orange and yellow. But my favorite purchase that year was a pair of lime green hip huggers with two shirt pocket-type pockets on the front. The pockets were a dark green and each one had a big yellow smiley face on it. I got matching green smiley face ponytail holders. Mike passed on that outfit.

We would make out schedules, showing each day of school for the first two weeks and charting which combination of pants and shirt we would wear each day. The standard footwear was a pair of Converse All-Stars. Ah, memories.

Well, I'll sign off here. I'm going to spend my lunch break pouring over the pens andge and yellow. But my favorite purchase that year was a pair of lime green hip huggers with two shirt pocket-type pockets on the front. The pockets were a dark green and each one had a big yellow smiley face on it. I got matching green smiley face ponytail holders. Mike passed on that outfit.

Well, I'll sign off here. I'm going to spend my lunch break pouring over the pens and notebooks.

Julie M. Fidler is a freelance writer living in Batesville. She may be reached by e-mail at [email protected]

July 11, 2001

While doing some summer cleaning recently, I came across some of my high school grade slips. (We got a "grade slip" for each class.) Overall, I got grades a parent could be proud of.

It's funny, though, how we usually got the good grades in classes wed notebooks.

Julie M. Fidler is a freelance writer living in Batesville. She may be reached by e-mail at [email protected]

July 11, 2001

While doing some summer cleaning recently, I came across some of my high school grade slips. (We got a "grade slip" for each class.) Overall, I got grades a parent could be proud of.

It's funny, though, how we usually got the good grades in classes we enjoyed or found interesting, while the bad grades came in classes we hated or where we didn't get along with the teachers. That would explain the "D" in Algebra I and the "C-" in P.E.

I'm not here to argue whether physical education is necessary or not. America's children are definitely getting fatter (thanks to Nintendo and television). These kids probably wouldn't get any exercise at all if it weren't for what we used to call "gym class." But that doesn't mean we have to like it.

Let me point out that I love taking part in softball, bowling, basketball, pinge enjoyed or found interesting, while the bad grades came in classes we hated or where we didn't get along with the teachers. That would explain the "D" in Algebra I and the "C-" in P.E.

Let me point out that I love taking part in softball, bowling, basketball, ping pong, archery and Frisbee. These were all things included in my high school P.E. classes. What I didn't like were weight lifting, square dancing, flag football, running, sit ups, push ups, dodge ball, the uneven bars, the trampoline, soccer, did I mention running?, wearing gym suits and showering in front of other girls (or anyone for that matter) and running.

From the beginning of our school days, we had to go to gym a few times a week. When we got to fifth grade, we were required to wear gym suits and take showers after our daily gym class. The P.E. teacher would stand outside the shower in the girls' locker room with a clipg pong, archery and Frisbee. These were all things included in my high school P.E. classes. What I didn't like were weight lifting, square dancing, flag football, running, sit ups, push ups, dodge ball, the uneven bars, the trampoline, soccer, did I mention running?, wearing gym suits and showering in front of other girls (or anyone for that matter) and running.

From the beginning of our school days, we had to go to gym a few times a week. When we got to fifth grade, we were required to wear gym suits and take showers after our daily gym class. The P.E. teacher would stand outside the shower in the girls' locker room with a clip board and check off our names as we came out to make sure we took showers. If she caught a girl whose hair didn't appear to be wet, she'd tell her to return to the shower to get wet. It was like some kind of prison camp.

As for the gym suits, they were nearly unbearable. The first ones issued to the girls were a stiff, powder blue, 1-piece number that included shorts you had to step into and then pull up the top part, which was short-sleeved, with a collar and snaps up the front. We affectionately called them "monkey suits." Then, in high school, it got worse.

The new suits required op board and check off our names as we came out to make sure we took showers. If she caught a girl whose hair didn't appear to be wet, she'd tell her to return to the shower to get wet. It was like some kind of prison camp.

The new suits required of girls at Illinois Valley Central High School in the late '70s were made of some stretchy kind of fiber, not found in nature. Again, they were a 1-piece thing. The "shorts" part was maroon. The top was horizontal-striped white and maroon and twice as long as it needed to be. There was elastic around the waist, and when the waistband was brought up to the waist, the shirt bloused out. It was supposed to be that way. Genius fashion.

I nearly wet my pants, however, when my friend, Lisa, making an appropriate orangutan face, pulled her shorts down as far as they would go so that the blouse stretched out with the waist doof girls at Illinois Valley Central High School in the late '70s were made of some stretchy kind of fiber, not found in nature. Again, they were a 1-piece thing. The "shorts" part was maroon. The top was horizontal-striped white and maroon and twice as long as it needed to be. There was elastic around the waist, and when the waistband was brought up to the waist, the shirt bloused out. It was supposed to be that way. Genius fashion.

Looks like I'm running out of room. Tune in next week to read about the girls' rebellion against the P.E. monkey suits!

Julie M. Fidler is editor of the Arkansas Weekly. She may be reached by e-mail at jmfidlerown to her knees and the shorts at her ankles. She looked like someone who had been put on the rack and stretched.

Meanwhile, the boys didn't have to face any of this humiliation. Their gym suits consisted of maroon cotton gym shorts and a gray cotton T-shirt -- each piece of which had the name of the school and a number, like a prisoner's, on the front.

Looks like I'm running out of room. Tune in next week to read about the girls' rebellion against the P.E. monkey suits!

Julie M. Fidler is editor of the Arkansas Weekly. She may be reached by e-mail at [email protected].

July 4, 2001

What is the deal with guys and cars?

Most men just seem to dig them, and they also are under the impression that we women are impressed by what they're driving. Some women do care, but I've only ever hoped for a car that would, as one of my brother's always says, "get me from A to B and occasionally back to A again."

OK, maybe I'm lying. No one really wants to tool around town in a [email protected].

July 4, 2001

What is the deal with guys and cars?

Most men just seem to dig them, and they also are under the impression that we women are impressed by what they're driving. Some women do care, but I've only ever hoped for a car that would, as one of my brother's always says, "get me from A to B and occasionally back to A again."

OK, maybe I'm lying. No one really wants to tool around town in a car that looks like Columbo's, do they? I recently fell in love with a car that called my name and begged me to buy it, reminding me of my very first car and the love affair I had with it.

This most recent car is a shiny, cherry red 1967 Mustang, for sale by a Magness-Newark area man. I went out there to take a picture of it for an ad in the Arkansas Weekly and my heart ached as I left it, knowing there's no way on earth I could have it for my own. It had a beautiful black interior and only 114,000 original miles.

When I was 16, my dad agreed to buy me a used car if I would get a part-ti car that looks like Columbo's, do they? I recently fell in love with a car that called my name and begged me to buy it, reminding me of my very first car and the love affair I had with it.

When I was 16, my dad agreed to buy me a used car if I would get a part-time job to help pay for it. I got on as a waitress at Farrell's Ice Cream Parlour in the local shopping mall, and the car soon followed. We went to the Ford dealer because that's where our family had always gotten its new cars and we scoped out the used ones. It wasn't long before I heard a 1973 Monte Carlo (then only a 6-year-old vehicle) calling my name on the breeze. It was maroon with an ivory-colored landau roof and red cloth interior. It was about as long as a city block, sleek and cool. Aerodynamic.

The youngest of three children and only daughter, I was behind the wheel in no time, driving that cool car, from then on affectiime job to help pay for it. I got on as a waitress at Farrell's Ice Cream Parlour in the local shopping mall, and the car soon followed. We went to the Ford dealer because that's where our family had always gotten its new cars and we scoped out the used ones. It wasn't long before I heard a 1973 Monte Carlo (then only a 6-year-old vehicle) calling my name on the breeze. It was maroon with an ivory-colored landau roof and red cloth interior. It was about as long as a city block, sleek and cool. Aerodynamic.

The youngest of three children and only daughter, I was behind the wheel in no time, driving that cool car, from then on affectionately known as "Monty," back to our neighborhood. Just two months past my 16th birthday, I was sure I was the hippest chick on the block, and I drove around the block over and over to prove it.

I chauffered my less fortunate friends, who had not yet reached their sweet 16th or gotten cars, and we made lots of trips to the mall, the movies, the bowling alley and beyond. They were impressed, and it didn't even seem to matter to me at the time that they never offered to pay for the gasoline. It should've mattered because it was 78 cents a gallon, and at best, Monty got about 17 miles to the gallon.

I drove Monty on through high school and all the way down to Pleasant Grove, Arkansas, where I spent a year bumming around before starting my college career. Monty finally pooped out during my second year of college, and I replaced him with a blue Monty, same year model, but nowhere near as good a car.

If you'd like to see both of the Monte Carlos, you can have a look at my Web site at www.stuckinthe70s.com/cars.

Julie M. Fidler is editor of the Arkansas Weekly. She may be reached at [email protected]

If you'd like to see both of the Monte Carlos, you can have a look at my Web site at www.stuckinthe70s.com/cars.

Julie M. Fidler is editor of the Arkansas Weekly. She may be reached at [email protected]

June 27, 2001

Summer of '76, conclusion

A brief recap of last week's column: I was recalling the summer of 1976, our country's Bicentennial and an unusual year indeed for my family and me. I had been diagnosed with a thyroid disorder that spring at age 13, and my parents had decided to go all out for our summer vacation that year -- we'd be flying to Los Angeles!

Much patriotism and celebration surrounded the summer of the United States' 200th birthdayn="left">June 27, 2001

Summer of '76, conclusion

Much patriotism and celebration surrounded the summer of the United States' 200th birthday. Every ad you'd see in the newspaper or on television had something to do with stars and stripes and fireworks. I remember watching the tall ships sailing in the harbor in New York on TV for the Fourth of July. It was breathtaking.

Our neighborhood, Brookview (picture Kevin Arnold's realm on "The Wonder Years"), always had an Independence Day parade, but this year it was more special somehow. The homeowners association announced a contest to jazz up the fire hydrants in the neighborhood. A person or "team" could sign up to paint a hydrant and prizes would be awarded to the winners. The hydrants were to be painty. Every ad you'd see in the newspaper or on television had something to do with stars and stripes and fireworks. I remember watching the tall ships sailing in the harbor in New York on TV for the Fourth of July. It was breathtaking.

My mom had seen some cute fire hydrants in Peoria Heights. They looked like little soldiers and had been decorated that way for years. She signed us up, and we set about painting the hydrant in the next-door-neighbor's yard. Mom did all the designing and painted the outlines on the old red chunk of metal. I just lay on my stomach and elbows, filling in the lines and painting the soldier's "helmet" black. He turned out awful cute.

Other hydrants in the neighborhood were painted with stars and stripes of red and white; one had a blue background ted in a Bicentennial theme, of course.

Other hydrants in the neighborhood were painted with stars and stripes of red and white; one had a blue background with the presidents' silhouettes in white. But, ours was the obvious hands-down winner. It was easy because my mom's a great artist. Sometime shortly after everyone had their hydrants painted, there came a ring on the doorbell. Mom was out to the store, and my friend Lisa from up the street and I were playing our collection of 45s on the turntable in the basement. I answered the door, and there stood a young man with a big camera. He told me we'd won the hydrant-painting contest and said he wanted to take my picture with the hydrant. I told him it was really Mom's doing, but he insisted he needed a picture, and I was going to be in it. The clipping from that e with the presidents' silhouettes in white. But, ours was the obvious hands-down winner. It was easy because my mom's a great artist. Sometime shortly after everyone had their hydrants painted, there came a ring on the doorbell. Mom was out to the store, and my friend Lisa from up the street and I were playing our collection of 45s on the turntable in the basement. I answered the door, and there stood a young man with a big camera. He told me we'd won the hydrant-painting contest and said he wanted to take my picture with the hydrant. I told him it was really Mom's doing, but he insisted he needed a picture, and I was going to be in it. The clipping from that edition in July 1976 of the Peoria Journal Star accompanies this column.

While still high on the hydrant mania and with the $5 prize money burning a hole in my pocket, I enjoyed summer's start while my Mom was arranging our travel through Bergner's (the north's equivalent of Dillard's). We poured over brochures and talked endlessly about the itinerary. I wrote to Tiger Beat and got the OK from the editor in chief, Kathy Cohen, to visit the Laufer Company's headquarters on Hollywood Boulevard.

Before we ever were leavin' on a jet plane, I started throwing up at the airport. edition in July 1976 of the Peoria Journal Star accompanies this column.

Before we ever were leavin' on a jet plane, I started throwing up at the airport. It was not air sickness, it was thyroid disorder. I love airplanes and flying -- heck, even hope to get a pilot's license one day. But, this was terrible. I tossed my cookies on the plane and again in the airport during a stopover in Denver. I collapsed numerous times during the vacation, and we had to make frequent stops so that I could rest. However, I had the time of my life.

Oldest brother Bob was 21 by this time, so he didn't come. But my other brother Mike (Joey cartoon strip artist) was 17 and he was enjoying himself, sneaking out of the hotel room for an occasional cigarette and hoping to run into Eve Plumb (Jan Brady). It was not air sickness, it was thyroid disorder. I love airplanes and flying -- heck, even hope to get a pilot's license one day. But, this was terrible. I tossed my cookies on the plane and again in the airport during a stopover in Denver. I collapsed numerous times during the vacation, and we had to make frequent stops so that I could rest. However, I had the time of my life.

Oldest brother Bob was 21 by this time, so he didn't come. But my other brother Mike (Joey cartoon strip artist) was 17 and he was enjoying himself, sneaking out of the hotel room for an occasional cigarette and hoping to run into Eve Plumb (Jan Brady). We did run into "Starsky & Hutch's" Huggy Bear, Antonio Fargas, on the street near the motel at a cafe where we ate breakfast several times; and we saw Jack Albertson and Scatman Crothers on the set of "Chico and the Man" during a tour of the NBC studios; and caught a glimpse of Lee Majors filming "The Six Million Dollar Man" on a tour of Universal Studios.

We got to see the taping of three shows of "Match Game '76," hosted by Gene Rayburn, at CBS. Stars on those episodes included Ed Asner, Bret Somers, Bert Convy, Charles Nelson Riley and Richard Dawson. I remember Ed Asner bumping . We did run into "Starsky & Hutch's" Huggy Bear, Antonio Fargas, on the street near the motel at a cafe where we ate breakfast several times; and we saw Jack Albertson and Scatman Crothers on the set of "Chico and the Man" during a tour of the NBC studios; and caught a glimpse of Lee Majors filming "The Six Million Dollar Man" on a tour of Universal Studios.

We got to see the taping of three shows of "Match Game '76," hosted by Gene Rayburn, at CBS. Stars on those episodes included Ed Asner, Bret Somers, Bert Convy, Charles Nelson Riley and Richard Dawson. I remember Ed Asner bumping his noggin on the bottom of the "6" as he entered the set to be seated on the top row of celebrities. Right next door to the CBS studios, we visited The Farmers Market where I got a Mexican-made marionette. We also toured the Lawry's Seasoned Salt factory where I tasted my first taco. We hit Graumann's Chinese Theater and compared our footprints to the stars; the Hollywood Wax Museum; and Knott's Berry Farm in Buena Vista.

We stayed in the Mayflower Hotel, across from the Biltmore. Each night, the streets below would light up, and we would watch where something was obviously being filmed. We came to find out, Martin Scors his noggin on the bottom of the "6" as he entered the set to be seated on the top row of celebrities. Right next door to the CBS studios, we visited The Farmers Market where I got a Mexican-made marionette. We also toured the Lawry's Seasoned Salt factory where I tasted my first taco. We hit Graumann's Chinese Theater and compared our footprints to the stars; the Hollywood Wax Museum; and Knott's Berry Farm in Buena Vista.

The highlight for me was the side trip to the Tiger Beat offices, of course. There, the editor gave us a personal tour of where the photographers shot all the pinups of my faves and where the magazines were put together. She even gave me some proofs of the August issue of Tiger Beat Star, and although Mike didn't meet Jan Brady and I didn't bump into Tony DeFranco, the summer of '76 was forever etched into our memories.

Julie M. Fidler is editor of the Arkansas Weekly. She may be reachesese was filming "New York, New York," starring Liza Minelli and Robert De Niro.

June 20, 2001

I remember our country's Bicentennial as a turning point in several ways. It seemed the nation had gone from chastising vets for participating in the war just ended to waving flags, wearing red, white and blue and showing their patriotism.

That summer, I was between seventh and eighth grades, 13 years old, kind of hitting a formative time in my own life. Earlier that year, my family learned I had thyred by e-mail a [email protected].

June 20, 2001

I remember our country's Bicentennial as a turning point in several ways. It seemed the nation had gone from chastising vets for participating in the war just ended to waving flags, wearing red, white and blue and showing their patriotism.

That summer, I was between seventh and eighth grades, 13 years old, kind of hitting a formative time in my own life. Earlier that year, my family learned I had thyroid disease, I was suffering from goiter (an enlargement of the thyroid gland) as well as hyperthyroidism. This condition is when your thyroid (located in the front part of your neck) starts producing too much thyroid hormone and the balancing system doesn't function properly. Your body goes into overdrive, gets sped up, causing an increased heart rate, increased blood pressure and burning more calories more quickly. At a height of 5-feet, 9 inches, my weight that spring dropped from around 160 to only 98 pounds. I suffered debilitating fatigue and other symptoms including rapid heart rate.

I remember seeing what seemed like every roid disease, I was suffering from goiter (an enlargement of the thyroid gland) as well as hyperthyroidism. This condition is when your thyroid (located in the front part of your neck) starts producing too much thyroid hormone and the balancing system doesn't function properly. Your body goes into overdrive, gets sped up, causing an increased heart rate, increased blood pressure and burning more calories more quickly. At a height of 5-feet, 9 inches, my weight that spring dropped from around 160 to only 98 pounds. I suffered debilitating fatigue and other symptoms including rapid heart rate.

I remember seeing what seemed like every doctor in central Illinois. Every one of them said my condition was unusual for a girl my age, and more commonly occurs in women in their 30s and 40s. They experimented with various treatments, including radioactive iodine. That was the worst. We literally took a dropper and dropped iodine into a small glass of water, which I'd have to drink several times a day. Weekly blood tests were required. This went on until the spring of 1981 when, at 17, I had a thyroidectomy, leaving me with about 10 percent of my thyroid gland and forcing me to take thyroid medication for the rest of my life.

At any rate, back to 1976. Usually on summ doctor in central Illinois. Every one of them said my condition was unusual for a girl my age, and more commonly occurs in women in their 30s and 40s. They experimented with various treatments, including radioactive iodine. That was the worst. We literally took a dropper and dropped iodine into a small glass of water, which I'd have to drink several times a day. Weekly blood tests were required. This went on until the spring of 1981 when, at 17, I had a thyroidectomy, leaving me with about 10 percent of my thyroid gland and forcing me to take thyroid medication for the rest of my life.

At any rate, back to 1976. Usually on summer vacations, the family would pack up the tent or pop-up trailer, and we'd head to the Badlands of South Dakota or the Missouri Ozarks – Meramec Caverns and Silver Dollar City. Dad had two weeks every July as vacation from Caterpillar Tractor Company where he was a design engineer.

But this summer was different. Always a big fan of movies, television, pop music and Tiger Beat magazine, I'd dreamed of going to Los Angeles and Hollywood some day. I knew when I grew up, I'd be editor of Tiger Beat. I was shocked and delighted when my mom told me we would be boarding a big ol' jet airliner and flying to Southernmer vacations, the family would pack up the tent or pop-up trailer, and we'd head to the Badlands of South Dakota or the Missouri Ozarks – Meramec Caverns and Silver Dollar City. Dad had two weeks every July as vacation from Caterpillar Tractor Company where he was a design engineer.

Thinking back on it, I realize my parents were scared. A doctor told them later, when they asked if the thyroidectomy was necessary, I would not survive without the operation. Perhaps they wanted to make sure I had my dream vacation before I croaked.

School let out in early June, and the build up to Independence Day was bigger than ever before. Everyone was celebrating. Every product released had something to do with wishing America a happy birthday. My brother, Mike, and I wanted some sneakers decorated with white stars on a blue background on one side and red and white stripes on the other. To our mother, this was sacrilege. It was disrespectful to wear the American flag. In fact, our school sent memos home saying we were not to wear the stars and stripes to class. In lieu of the real thing, Mike decorated his white Converse All-Stars with red, white and blue magic markers.

Our neighborhood's Bicentennial parade soon followed, and before we knew it, it was mid-July and time for Dad's vacation.

To be continued next week.

Julie M. Fidler is news director for WRD Entertainment Inc. and editor ofon one side and red and white stripes on the other. To our mother, this was sacrilege. It was disrespectful to wear the American flag. In fact, our school sent memos home saying we were not to wear the stars and stripes to class. In lieu of the real thing, Mike decorated his white Converse All-Stars with red, white and blue magic markers.

Our neighborhood's Bicentennial parade soon followed, and before we knew it, it was mid-July and time for Dad's vacation.

To be continued next week.

Julie M. Fidler is news director for WRD Entertainment Inc. and editor of the Arkansas Weekly. She may be reached at [email protected].

June 13, 2001

Summer memories, part 1

At age 9, sitting on the swingset and explaining to the 4-year-old neighbor girl what summer vacation is. It means you don't have to go back to school for a long, long time, I told her.

Playing in the sprinkler in the bf the Arkansas Weekly. She may be reached at [email protected].

June 13, 2001

Summer memories, part 1

At age 9, sitting on the swingset and explaining to the 4-year-old neighbor girl what summer vacation is. It means you don't have to go back to school for a long, long time, I told her.

Playing in the sprinkler in the backyard with friends, dunking our heads right down in it and coming up with various celebrity hairdos.

Participating in the neighborhood's Fourth of July parade by weaving red, white and blue crepe paper through the spokes of my bike.

Going to Shore Acres Park swimming pool, eating popcorn during the adult swim and watching my friend, Cathy, pick up pieces of popcorn off the wet concrete with her toes and eat the soggy popped kernels.

Watching Cubs games on the television with my grandpa, who would also have the game blasting fbackyard with friends, dunking our heads right down in it and coming up with various celebrity hairdos.

Participating in the neighborhood's Fourth of July parade by weaving red, white and blue crepe paper through the spokes of my bike.

Watching Cubs games on the television with my grandpa, who would also have the game blasting from the radio on the stand beside his La-Z-Boy.

Hiking up the creek with my brother, Mike, and exploring the woods; finding an old cemetery, not accessible by vehicle, that included the tomb of an unknown soldier.

Playing Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn with Cathy or Lisa in the creek.

Playing Wiffle ball, spud or kick the can in the streets by day and flashlight tag at night.

Catching lightning bugs and putting them in an empty peanut butter jar with holesfrom the radio on the stand beside his La-Z-Boy.

Hiking up the creek with my brother, Mike, and exploring the woods; finding an old cemetery, not accessible by vehicle, that included the tomb of an unknown soldier.

Playing Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn with Cathy or Lisa in the creek.

Playing Wiffle ball, spud or kick the can in the streets by day and flashlight tag at night.

Catching lightning bugs and putting them in an empty peanut butter jar with holes in the lid and using them to light up the tent.

Sleeping in.

Going to Meramec Caverns on a trip with the family; camping there, and heading off to Silver Dollar City the next day.

Julie M. Fidler is editor of the Arkansas Weekly. She may be reached by e-mail at [email protected]

May 30, 2001

A radio morning show host from Bellview, Ontario, Canads in the lid and using them to light up the tent.

Sleeping in.

Going to Meramec Caverns on a trip with the family; camping there, and heading off to Silver Dollar City the next day.

Julie M. Fidler is editor of the Arkansas Weekly. She may be reached by e-mail at [email protected]

May 30, 2001

A radio morning show host from Bellview, Ontario, Canada, called me last week. He wanted to know why I'm stuck in the '70s. The fellow does Sunday Seventies Show on an adult contemporary station that's number one in its market, and he happened upon my Web site www.stuckinthe70s.com while doing some research. He said others he's interviewed on his program include original band members from Three Dog Night and the Doobie Brothers, and after seeing my site, he considers me an "expert" on the decade. Aw, shucks.

I thought and thought about what I could say on the Sunday Seventies Show other than, "Because, that's the way, uh-huh, uh-huh I liked it." Therda, called me last week. He wanted to know why I'm stuck in the '70s. The fellow does Sunday Seventies Show on an adult contemporary station that's number one in its market, and he happened upon my Web site www.stuckinthe70s.com while doing some research. He said others he's interviewed on his program include original band members from Three Dog Night and the Doobie Brothers, and after seeing my site, he considers me an "expert" on the decade. Aw, shucks.

I thought and thought about what I could say on the Sunday Seventies Show other than, "Because, that's the way, uh-huh, uh-huh I liked it." There has to be some reasoning behind why I seem to have enjoyed the 1970s so much.

Here are some of the reasons I came up with for being stuck in the '70s (not necessarily in order of importance). Perhaps some of you could help me add to the list?

1. Guys wore tight, flared hip-hugging Levi's and shirts unbuttoned to there.

2. It didn't matter how you decorated your house. It was inexpensive, and the kitschier, the better.

3. Colors were bright and bold, and then there was green re has to be some reasoning behind why I seem to have enjoyed the 1970s so much.

Here are some of the reasons I came up with for being stuck in the '70s (not necessarily in order of importance). Perhaps some of you could help me add to the list?

1. Guys wore tight, flared hip-hugging Levi's and shirts unbuttoned to there.

2. It didn't matter how you decorated your house. It was inexpensive, and the kitschier, the better.

3. Colors were bright and bold, and then there was green and gold.

4. I went from age 7 to 16 in the 1970s, an age of innocence and wonder for anyone. The Vietnam War was over before I realized there was a war going on (thank goodness, both of my big brothers were too young to be drafted). If you were 7-16 in the 1950s, you'd likely be "stuck in the '50s."

5. We actually had family time. We ate dinner together at the table. My brothers paid attention to me (not all of nice, of course).

6. It was before Nintendo, VCRs and home computers, so in the suburban neighborhood, kid and gold.

5. We actually had family time. We ate dinner together at the table. My brothers paid attention to me (not all of nice, of course).

6. It was before Nintendo, VCRs and home computers, so in the suburban neighborhood, kids played outside, and we played outside without fear.

7. The music had a message or a story to it.

8. If you raked the shag rug in your bedroom, you could tell if your big brother had invaded.

9. AIDS hadn't been "invented" yet.

10. Guys danced.

11. Men had hair you could run your fingers through (unfortunately, some of it was on their exposed chests).

12. Banana seats were more comfords played outside, and we played outside without fear.

7. The music had a message or a story to it.

8. If you raked the shag rug in your bedroom, you could tell if your big brother had invaded.

9. AIDS hadn't been "invented" yet.

10. Guys danced.

11. Men had hair you could run your fingers through (unfortunately, some of it was on their exposed chests).

12. Banana seats were more comfortable than the small, hard seats bikes have today.

13. I could afford to buy 8-tracks and vinyl records with my allowance. A "single" cost 67 cents at Kmart.

14. Disc jockeys were ever-important, almost like gods.

15. It wasn't bad to play with toys that would now be considered violent – Rock 'em Sock 'em Robots, for example. And "violent" scenes were left in the Looney Tunes.

16. No one took television too seriously. Witness Charlie's Angels, Happy Days,rtable than the small, hard seats bikes have today.

13. I could afford to buy 8-tracks and vinyl records with my allowance. A "single" cost 67 cents at Kmart.

14. Disc jockeys were ever-important, almost like gods.

15. It wasn't bad to play with toys that would now be considered violent – Rock 'em Sock 'em Robots, for example. And "violent" scenes were left in the Looney Tunes.

16. No one took television too seriously. Witness Charlie's Angels, Happy Days, Mork and Mindy, BJ and the Bear, CHiPs, the Carol Burnett Show, etc.

That's enough to get a discussion going. Given more time, I'm sure I could double that. Till next time, stay cool, and keep on truckin'!

Julie M. Fidler is news director for WRD Entertainment Inc. and editor of the Arkansas Weekly.

May 30, 2001

The children I griped about in last week's column are the ones I, Mork and Mindy, BJ and the Bear, CHiPs, the Carol Burnett Show, etc.

That's enough to get a discussion going. Given more time, I'm sure I could double that. Till next time, stay cool, and keep on truckin'!

Julie M. Fidler is news director for WRD Entertainment Inc. and editor of the Arkansas Weekly.

May 30, 2001

The children I griped about in last week's column are the ones I will be pining for by the time you read this.

Saturday, my two sons, ages 12 and 8, departed to spend the majority of the summer in Louisiana with their father. Saying so long to them for a couple of months is always difficult, and it gets harder each year. It must be something like saying good-bye to a child who is heading off to college.

However, part of me always breathes a guilty sigh of relief as they are leaving because I'm thinking about all of the projects there hasn't been time for over the past 10 months. School nights have been filled with homework, Scouts and band concerts. Weekends were spent on other kid stuff – all of which was fun and will make for lots of good memories. But, now I can turn my attention to other things.

Last summer, I did a major overhaul on the house, moving the boys into separate bedrooms. A tremendous amount of de-cluttering is in order this summer, but not quite the project I undertook last year. Plans this summer are to work on a couple of Web sites, yard work and gardening, renovation of two bicycles, scrapbooking and several sewing projects. Doubt if it all gets done in two months!

For this time to myself, I know I am fortunate. Many parents probably have forgotten what it's like to be able to do the things they want, and they won't find out until retirement. I won't have to pick up toys and dirty socks daily, I won't need to cook big meals, I can go to the movies whenever I want and see whatever I want, I can run off shopping when finances permit and browse without interruption, I can carry on a phone conversation uninterrupted, the choice of TV programming is totally mine and there's no reason to ever say "Don't even LOOK at him!"

Yet, you know there are so many thin"Arial"> For this time to myself, I know I am fortunate. Many parents probably have forgotten what it's like to be able to do the things they want, and they won't find out until retirement. I won't have to pick up toys and dirty socks daily, I won't need to cook big meals, I can go to the movies whenever I want and see whatever I want, I can run off shopping when finances permit and browse without interruption, I can carry on a phone conversation uninterrupted, the choice of TV programming is totally mine and there's no reason to ever say "Don't even LOOK at him!"

Yet, you know there are so many things I miss. I find myself looking in their rooms in the middle of the night when I get up to go to the bathroom. I'll have no help with laundry, no excuse to watch cartoons, no impromptu magic shows, no one to play catch with, no burping contests to judge, no drawn-out Monopoly games. I'll miss Nick's quick-witted responses and never-ending inventions and Vincent's caring and sweet nature.

Julie M. Fidler is editor of the Arkansas Weekly and news director for WRD Entertainment Inc. She may be reached by e-mail at [email protected]

May 23, 2001

Does anybody have the phone number for Guinness Book of World Records? I believe I have one for them – actually two: longest time taken to make breakfast and longest time taken to wash dishes.

The scene: Mother's Day 2001; the players: my 12-year-old son and me. Wait, back up. The day before, the boy had asked if I wanted him to make me breakfast in bed for Mother's Day. The thought of him in the kitchen frightened me, not to mention that eating on a waterbed takes a great sense of balance. No, I told him, that wouldn't be necessary. I'd just like for him and his brother to tidy up their rooms, let me sleep in and leave me alone in the afternoon to watch the Cubs-Cardinals game.

I did get to sleep in. I smelled something cooking around 8 a.m. Little brother reported that was big brother making toast. Well, I thought, at least it wasn't the "breakfast burritos" he had threatened to whip up.

Several times within the next two hours one boy or another would come into my room and ask where was this or that cooking utensil or container or ingrediece. No, I told him, that wouldn't be necessary. I'd just like for him and his brother to tidy up their rooms, let me sleep in and leave me alone in the afternoon to watch the Cubs-Cardinals game.

Several times within the next two hours one boy or another would come into my room and ask where was this or that cooking utensil or container or ingredient. Ends up, Vincent only toasted himself a little bread to quell his hunger pangs while he worked for a couple of hours on making pancakes in the electric skillet.

Around 10 a.m., Nick brought in the Rubbermaid step stool from the kitchen and plopped it on my bed. He was followed by Vincent, who placed a paper plate, topped with three pancakes, on the stool. Then, they disappeared. I looked down at the pancakes. "How about some butter, syrup or a fork?" I hollered down the hallway.

A Homer Simpson-like "D-oh!" came from the kitchen and a shouted qent. Ends up, Vincent only toasted himself a little bread to quell his hunger pangs while he worked for a couple of hours on making pancakes in the electric skillet.

A Homer Simpson-like "D-oh!" came from the kitchen and a shouted question: "Where's the syrup?" My pancakes were taken away from me, and about 15 minutes later, returned with a clump of butter on top and smothered in cold syrup. I also was issued a fork. The pancakes were cold and crunchy, and I wondered which mix they were made from, especially since the newest mix in the house is about a year old. Still, it's the thought that counts.

When I got up to return my plate and utensil to the kitchen, my fears were realized. Both boys were at the table, crunching on their own flapjacks. The kitchen counter held the electric skillet, still turned on but containing only blackeniquestion: "Where's the syrup?" My pancakes were taken away from me, and about 15 minutes later, returned with a clump of butter on top and smothered in cold syrup. I also was issued a fork. The pancakes were cold and crunchy, and I wondered which mix they were made from, especially since the newest mix in the house is about a year old. Still, it's the thought that counts.

When I got up to return my plate and utensil to the kitchen, my fears were realized. Both boys were at the table, crunching on their own flapjacks. The kitchen counter held the electric skillet, still turned on but containing only blackening crumbs. The whole area was spattered with a batter that was quickly congealing, and the mixture in a measuring cup used to pour the batter into the skillet was setting like Quik-Crete. I retreated to my boudoir.

An hour or two later when the boys got done with their breakfast and were very proud of themselves for treating mom so well, I ventured out again. The kitchen was in the same state, but now drying. I suggested to Vincent that he clean up the mess, including the dishes.

The week before, I was led to believe my Mother's Day gift would be a manicured lawn. As I coing crumbs. The whole area was spattered with a batter that was quickly congealing, and the mixture in a measuring cup used to pour the batter into the skillet was setting like Quik-Crete. I retreated to my boudoir.

The week before, I was led to believe my Mother's Day gift would be a manicured lawn. As I could not see that happening, I put on my hightop sneakers, went outside and fired up the mower. One lawn, a shower and three loads of laundry later, big brother was still doing the dishes. Bless his heart. He had kept taking breaks to get another rootbeer or see what was on the TV that kid brother was laughing about.

  I must say, however, I do believe the child has learned a little bit about what it's like to work a full day, come home, cook a meal, do dishes and laundry and find time to do anything else – in other words, be a mom. How long that lesson will last, only time will tell.

  Julie M. Fidler is editor of the Arkansas Weekly and news director for WRD Entertainment Inc. She may be reached by e-mail at [email protected]

May 16, 2001

As of this week, the Arkansas Weekly is bigger! Of course, you've noticed that. We'd like it to be better too, and you can help us. When we made the decision to go to broadsheet size (the bigger version you're holding in your hands), we pondered what to change and what to leave the same and why.   Julie M. Fidler is editor of the Arkansas Weekly and news director for WRD Entertainment Inc. She may be reached by e-mail at [email protected]

May 16, 2001

As of this week, the Arkansas Weekly is bigger! Of course, you've noticed that. We'd like it to be better too, and you can help us. When we made the decision to go to broadsheet size (the bigger version you're holding in your hands), we pondered what to change and what to leave the same and why.

Should we lump all the classifieds in the back or keep them spread throughout the paper? How about the display ads? Should those be lumped in corners, or dotted through the pages? We've decided not to change too much because we like to be different. You've come to know the whole publication is full of offers and treasures, and that'll stay the same. We'll also strive to bring you local and regional features you won't find anywhere else – along with plenty of pictures of people you'll recognize, in living color!

Let us know what you like, or don't like, about the Weeknt>

Let us know what you like, or don't like, about the Weekly and how it's different from other publications. If you have ideas, suggestions, questions, comments, you can e-mail them to me at [email protected]; post them to P.O. Box 2077, Batesville, AR 72501; or phone them in at (870) 793-4196, extension 30.

* * *

This spring marks an unusual anniversary for me — one I'm sure not many people even think about. It's been 20 years since I got my first VCR. (Sigh.)

According to several Internet encyclopedias, the first commercially successful videocassette rkly and how it's different from other publications. If you have ideas, suggestions, questions, comments, you can e-mail them to me at [email protected]; post them to P.O. Box 2077, Batesville, AR 72501; or phone them in at (870) 793-4196, extension 30.

* * *

This spring marks an unusual anniversary for me — one I'm sure not many people even think about. It's been 20 years since I got my first VCR. (Sigh.)

According to several Internet encyclopedias, the first commercially successful videocassette recorder, which used a Betamax format, was introduced in 1975. A competitive format, VHS (Video Home System), was introduced in the same year and became the dominant system. Although both systems use 0.5 inch (13-mm-) wide tape, they are mutually incompatible; a tape recorded on one system cannot be played on the other.

Luckily, our first VCR was VHS. When the machines first came out in 1975, they cost $1,500 to $2,000. One of my best friends, whose dad was a physician, got one in 1977. It was magical to go to her place and watch over and over and over the "CHiPs" episode where Erik Estrada tears up the disrecorder, which used a Betamax format, was introduced in 1975. A competitive format, VHS (Video Home System), was introduced in the same year and became the dominant system. Although both systems use 0.5 inch (13-mm-) wide tape, they are mutually incompatible; a tape recorded on one system cannot be played on the other.

Luckily, our first VCR was VHS. When the machines first came out in 1975, they cost $1,500 to $2,000. One of my best friends, whose dad was a physician, got one in 1977. It was magical to go to her place and watch over and over and over the "CHiPs" episode where Erik Estrada tears up the disco dance floor ala John Travolta, or Leif Garrett's appearance on the latest Bob Hope special without having to sit through all of his jokes and other guests.

Of course, I wanted a VCR the first time I saw one, but there was no way to justify this purchase with my folks. When 1981 rolled around, high school graduation approached, and unlike the rest of the kids in my class, I had a serious operation and hospital stay that spring. I missed most of the second semester of my senior year due to it. It was then that, probably because they either felt sorry for me or thought I could die any moment, my folks bought a 1980 sco dance floor ala John Travolta, or Leif Garrett's appearance on the latest Bob Hope special without having to sit through all of his jokes and other guests.

Of course, I wanted a VCR the first time I saw one, but there was no way to justify this purchase with my folks. When 1981 rolled around, high school graduation approached, and unlike the rest of the kids in my class, I had a serious operation and hospital stay that spring. I missed most of the second semester of my senior year due to it. It was then that, probably because they either felt sorry for me or thought I could die any moment, my folks bought a 1980 model VHS Montgomery Ward brand VCR. I was in heaven.

I remember the first thing I taped – a segment from Captain Kangaroo. We watched that over and over in amazement.

Now, a couple of different devices take us much further, digitally. These let us pause live video and never miss our favorite programs. Unbelievable. How can I talk the folks into getting me one of these?

Julie M. Fidler is editor of the Arkansas Weekly and news director for WRD Entertainment Inc.

I remember the first thing I taped – a segment from Captain Kangaroo. We watched that over and over in amazement.

Julie M. Fidler is editor of the Arkansas Weekly and news director for WRD Entertainment Inc.

May 9, 2001

Sometimes it's hard coming up with something to write about in this space each week. Most of the time it's not. There are just a bunch of little things running loose in my head (that's where the rattling comes from). So, this week's column is a potpourri.

May 9, 2001

Spring 2001 has brought with it an abundance of snakes and squirrels, it seems. In the 10 years I've lived at my home there's never been a snake sighting. That may be credited to the 10 zillion cats at my house or it may be because they just aren't there. While mowing the lawn recently, I spotted a great big, long, shiny, garden-hose green snake. He was hugged right up next to the house, on a concrete slab by the doghouse. If the doghouse was occupied, I guess that snake wouldn't have been there. At any rate, I stopped the mower, found the biggest rock I could, and heaved it at the snake. Miss! Another one. Missed again; and this time the snake crawled down into a crack. Since then, I've seen numerous snakes, mostly smashed on the road. Hope this isn't a sign of what to expect this summer.

There have also been lots of squirrels everywhere yuse they just aren't there. While mowing the lawn recently, I spotted a great big, long, shiny, garden-hose green snake. He was hugged right up next to the house, on a concrete slab by the doghouse. If the doghouse was occupied, I guess that snake wouldn't have been there. At any rate, I stopped the mower, found the biggest rock I could, and heaved it at the snake. Miss! Another one. Missed again; and this time the snake crawled down into a crack. Since then, I've seen numerous snakes, mostly smashed on the road. Hope this isn't a sign of what to expect this summer.

There have also been lots of squirrels everywhere you look. While driving, I've nearly gone into the ditch to avoid hitting some of the cute little critters; while, on the other hand, I've tried but been unsuccessful in swerving to hit snakes crossing the highway. Call me a "cute animal" rights activist.

Did you feel the earthquake Friday? It woke me up, and I remember saying to myself, "That's one of those earthquakes." On a previous one, I was in the back room of the house and thought a semi-truck had struck the front of the house. Later, I learned it was a quake. This time, it was the same truck sound and feeling, but I went back to sleep andyou look. While driving, I've nearly gone into the ditch to avoid hitting some of the cute little critters; while, on the other hand, I've tried but been unsuccessful in swerving to hit snakes crossing the highway. Call me a "cute animal" rights activist.

Did you feel the earthquake Friday? It woke me up, and I remember saying to myself, "That's one of those earthquakes." On a previous one, I was in the back room of the house and thought a semi-truck had struck the front of the house. Later, I learned it was a quake. This time, it was the same truck sound and feeling, but I went back to sleep and forgot about it until I heard someone else doing the news about it on the radio that morning. Guess this newswoman slept through the breaking story that time. One of these days, in our lifetime, we're going to have a great big honkin' earthquake here, and there'll be no sleeping through it.

Those of you who watched "Survivor II" now know the outcome. Tina won. Heck, those of you who never watched one episode and couldn't possibly care less probably still know that. It's nearly unavoidable. Well, I say HOO-RAY! A nice 40-year-old lady, treated like someone's elderly great-grandmother by most everyone else d forgot about it until I heard someone else doing the news about it on the radio that morning. Guess this newswoman slept through the breaking story that time. One of these days, in our lifetime, we're going to have a great big honkin' earthquake here, and there'll be no sleeping through it.

Those of you who watched "Survivor II" now know the outcome. Tina won. Heck, those of you who never watched one episode and couldn't possibly care less probably still know that. It's nearly unavoidable. Well, I say HOO-RAY! A nice 40-year-old lady, treated like someone's elderly great-grandmother by most everyone else in the Outback, kicked some tail. Tina Wesson is not only a woman, she's a Southern woman – from Knoxville, Tenn., and the mother of two. The outcome of Survivor II pleases me much more than that of the first one where a disgusting, conniving, fat, naked guy took the million.

Changes are coming to the Arkansas Weekly. These changes will be noticeable next week, and they'll be apparent as soon as you pick up your May 16 paper. I won't go into detail because I don't want to ruin the surprise, but let me say, I think you'll like it. We'll stay pretty much the same in content because we know you're accustomed to yo in the Outback, kicked some tail. Tina Wesson is not only a woman, she's a Southern woman – from Knoxville, Tenn., and the mother of two. The outcome of Survivor II pleases me much more than that of the first one where a disgusting, conniving, fat, naked guy took the million.

Stay tuned!

Julie M. Fidler is editor of the Arkansas Weekly and news director for WRD Entertainment Inc. She may be reached by e-mail at [email protected].

May 2, 2001

The deadline is next week. The votes are in, and they've been tabulated. I'm not going to the 20-year reunion of the 1981 graduating class of Illinois Valley Central High School, Chillicoour Weekly. But now, it'll be even better!

Stay tuned!

Julie M. Fidler is editor of the Arkansas Weekly and news director for WRD Entertainment Inc. She may be reached by e-mail at [email protected].

May 2, 2001

The deadline is next week. The votes are in, and they've been tabulated. I'm not going to the 20-year reunion of the 1981 graduating class of Illinois Valley Central High School, Chillicothe, Ill.

After a column I wrote awhile back about what a bummer high school was, I got lots of comments from friends and people I ran into in the grocery store or other places. Some said they thought I ought to go, but most said why bother?

The way I see it, I can get drunk with a bunch of strangers any Saturday night if I want to. I don't have to travel 500 miles back to my hometown to do it. And, if I want to spend time with my old high school chums (who won't be in attendance at the reunion), I can look them up while I'm in town sometime.

Glad that one's settled. Next time I have trouble making a decision, I'll know to write about it in this space and have y'all help me out again. Thanks!

* * *

Batesville Community Theatre turns 30 this year and celebrated with a special show last week. BCT's a great organization. We have a lot of talented people in our area, and it's good to see some of the younger ones carrying on the great tradition.

I became involved in BCT in 1982 while I was a student at Arkansas College. I was majoringrial"> Glad that one's settled. Next time I have trouble making a decision, I'll know to write about it in this space and have y'all help me out again. Thanks!

* * *

I became involved in BCT in 1982 while I was a student at Arkansas College. I was majoring in media arts (sadly, a major no longer available), and one of my professors, Paul Younghouse, encouraged us to join up in some way. I spent my time mostly backstage and enjoyed helping with sound, lighting and special effects. My dad even got involved once or twice and helped us rig some flash bulbs in a gadget to simulate fireworks.

The most fun I ever had in a BCT production was working on You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown. We put it on at the Independence County Fairgrounds in 1984 (or was it 1983?), and we built a tremendous set. It was laid out so audience members would walk into Charlie Brown's house, g in media arts (sadly, a major no longer available), and one of my professors, Paul Younghouse, encouraged us to join up in some way. I spent my time mostly backstage and enjoyed helping with sound, lighting and special effects. My dad even got involved once or twice and helped us rig some flash bulbs in a gadget to simulate fireworks.

The most fun I ever had in a BCT production was working on You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown. We put it on at the Independence County Fairgrounds in 1984 (or was it 1983?), and we built a tremendous set. It was laid out so audience members would walk into Charlie Brown's house, and we had a 2-story set up. Seating was in bleachers in Charlie's "back yard." As part of the special effects crew, I sat in the top floor of the house by a window, and helped guide Charlie Brown's kite into the famous kite-eating tree. Ah, those were the days.

* * *

I experienced a near encounter with an armed robber while in Little Rock one recent weekend. While my sons are away, I've been known to go to the capital city to take in a few movies that I figure will never make it to Batesville.

On and we had a 2-story set up. Seating was in bleachers in Charlie's "back yard." As part of the special effects crew, I sat in the top floor of the house by a window, and helped guide Charlie Brown's kite into the famous kite-eating tree. Ah, those were the days.

* * *

On this particular Saturday afternoon, I went to UA Breckenridge Cinema to see Pollock. Ed Harris stars in the movie which he also directed and produced. Funny, I thought his most riveting performance and the one I most remember him for was in 1982's Creepshow. At any rate, Marcia Gay Hardin won the Academy Award for best supporting actress in this film about the life of artist Jackson Pollock. I must say, the movie was well done, but it was such a downer. Creepshow was so much more uplifting.

I bought my ticket for the 1:20 matinee. As I ambled back out into the light of day nearly two hours later this particular Saturday afternoon, I went to UA Breckenridge Cinema to see Pollock. Ed Harris stars in the movie which he also directed and produced. Funny, I thought his most riveting performance and the one I most remember him for was in 1982's Creepshow. At any rate, Marcia Gay Hardin won the Academy Award for best supporting actress in this film about the life of artist Jackson Pollock. I must say, the movie was well done, but it was such a downer. Creepshow was so much more uplifting.

I bought my ticket for the 1:20 matinee. As I ambled back out into the light of day nearly two hours later, I saw a couple of cop cars parked at the box office. I wondered what had happened, but didn't give it another thought until I read about it in the next morning's police report in the Democrat-Gazette.

The headline caught my eye: "Masked man robs box office employee." Apparently, a man, whose face was covered by a red bandanna, approached the ticket box office about 3 p.m., flashed a silver handgun and demanded money from the employee inside. He then fled on foot after stealing an undetermined amount of cash.

Wow. Wonder if he got my five bucks?Democrat-Gazette.

Wow. Wonder if he got my five bucks?

Julie M. Fidler is editor of Arkansas Weekly and news director for WRD Entertainment Inc. She may be reached by e-mail at [email protected].

April 25, 2001

I Had Front Row Seats ... So Na-Na Boo-Boo

Go ahead and hate me. I had front-row seats for the April 14 Billy Joel/Elton John "Face 2 Face" concert at the Pyramid in Memphis.

I couldn/p>

Julie M. Fidler is editor of Arkansas Weekly and news director for WRD Entertainment Inc. She may be reached by e-mail at [email protected].

April 25, 2001

I Had Front Row Seats ... So Na-Na Boo-Boo

Go ahead and hate me. I had front-row seats for the April 14 Billy Joel/Elton John "Face 2 Face" concert at the Pyramid in Memphis.

I couldn't have afforded to buy these tickets. From what it says on the stubs, they added up to what I would pay for almost a month's worth of groceries. So, being the conscientious parent I am, I wouldn't even have dreamed of buying myself, let alone a guest, tickets to the concert – although I wanted very badly to go.

These two gents have been in my mind and heart for 30 years, beginning with Sir Elton John's Madman Across the Water album in 1971 and Billy Joel's Piano Man in 1973. Levon, Tiny Dancer, Crocodile Rock, Bennie and the Jets, Piano Man, Angry Young Man, The Stranger, Scenes from an Itan't have afforded to buy these tickets. From what it says on the stubs, they added up to what I would pay for almost a month's worth of groceries. So, being the conscientious parent I am, I wouldn't even have dreamed of buying myself, let alone a guest, tickets to the concert – although I wanted very badly to go.

These two gents have been in my mind and heart for 30 years, beginning with Sir Elton John's Madman Across the Water album in 1971 and Billy Joel's Piano Man in 1973. Levon, Tiny Dancer, Crocodile Rock, Bennie and the Jets, Piano Man, Angry Young Man, The Stranger, Scenes from an Italian Restaurant – these were all songs we played at slumber parties. Elton and Billy were exceptions to our "only cute boys rock" rule.

When I learned that a local business was giving away two tickets, and all one had to do was write down why they deserve them, a chill went down my spine. Wouldn't that be cool? But, no. I never win anything. Why bother?

Right up until the contest deadline, I didn't bother. Then, I figured, "Oh, what the heck?" My original plan was to come up with 100 reasons why I needed those tickets more than anyone else. Hoalian Restaurant – these were all songs we played at slumber parties. Elton and Billy were exceptions to our "only cute boys rock" rule.

When I learned that a local business was giving away two tickets, and all one had to do was write down why they deserve them, a chill went down my spine. Wouldn't that be cool? But, no. I never win anything. Why bother?

Right up until the contest deadline, I didn't bother. Then, I figured, "Oh, what the heck?" My original plan was to come up with 100 reasons why I needed those tickets more than anyone else. However, time and the real world interfered. I came up with seven, which are printed at the end of this column and which won me the tickets.

Driving in the car just after turning in my entry, I told my sons, 8 and 12, there was a slight possibility I could win two tickets to see Billy Joel and Elton John in concert. "Who?" they both asked in unison.

Oh my gosh. Were these actually my children? I was sore ashamed. "C'mon now, you've heard me blasting their music on the wayback machine," I said. The wayback machine is my disco stereo, complete with 8-tracowever, time and the real world interfered. I came up with seven, which are printed at the end of this column and which won me the tickets.

Oh my gosh. Were these actually my children? I was sore ashamed. "C'mon now, you've heard me blasting their music on the wayback machine," I said. The wayback machine is my disco stereo, complete with 8-track, AM-FM, turntable and lights that flash to the beat of the music. I got it while working my first job when I was 15 – but that's another column.

I started to sing (or croak), "You know – 'Sing us a song, you're the piano man. Sing us a song tonight … You may be right, I may be crazy. But it just may be a lunatic you're lookin' for … I remember when rock was young. Me and Suzy had so much fun … She's got electric boots, a mohair suit, you know I read it in a maga-zeeee-heeeen…'"

Silence from the back seat. Then, "Oh yeah,"ck, AM-FM, turntable and lights that flash to the beat of the music. I got it while working my first job when I was 15 – but that's another column.

Silence from the back seat. Then, "Oh yeah," one of them said, "Those ring a bell."

With my tickets in hand, I felt like Charlie must have, clutching his golden ticket in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.

The night before the concert, the boys were in for a musical history lesson. I was unable to find my Piano Man and Stranger 8-tracks, but did locate most of my other Joel and John recordings. We stayed up too late, listening to them all. When we got to Billy Joel's We Didn't Start the Fire from his Storm Front CD, I told them that each phrase in the song refers to a moment in recent history. I found they were clueless about most of it. So, with remote in hand, I continued to pause the song, asking, "Do you know what he's talking about?" When Joel's says "Little Rock," I said, "You've gotta know that one."

Big brother's answer was, "Well, I know when they first found Little Rock, there was a big rock and a little rock …"

No, no, no. I went into telling him about Central High. If you want to teach your kids what it's all about, there's a great Web site that gives the history for each bit o a moment in recent history. I found they were clueless about most of it. So, with remote in hand, I continued to pause the song, asking, "Do you know what he's talking about?" When Joel's says "Little Rock," I said, "You've gotta know that one."

Big brother's answer was, "Well, I know when they first found Little Rock, there was a big rock and a little rock …"

No, no, no. I went into telling him about Central High. If you want to teach your kids what it's all about, there's a great Web site that gives the history for each bit mentioned in the song. You can find it at www.rareexception.com/Garden/Eighties/Fire.asp.

Because I could only take one guest to the concert, I chose Vincent, thinking he would remember it better because he is older. Nick was bummed, but perked up when I told him we'd bring him back a concert T-shirt.

The kiddo and I had an excellent time, and by the time I was through with him, he knew a heck of a lot about the two musical geniuses. From our seats, we could see the passageway to backstage. And when the lights were dimmed, we looked there below and just to the left of us. Both Sir John and Mr. Joel were there, about to be led to the stage by a guy carrying a flashlight. Elton was wearing a bright, shiny green jacket. "LOOK MOM! THERE'S ELTON JOHN RIGHT THERE!!!! WOO-HOO!!! HEY ELTON!!," yelled Vincent. That's my boy.

The concert was fabulous and went on for nearly three hours. When the two men sang Don't Let the Sun Go Down on Me, and the red, yellow and orange lights washed over the stage, I wept.

My brief essay:

Why I should win two tickets to see Billy Joel and Elton Joh. Both Sir John and Mr. Joel were there, about to be led to the stage by a guy carrying a flashlight. Elton was wearing a bright, shiny green jacket. "LOOK MOM! THERE'S ELTON JOHN RIGHT THERE!!!! WOO-HOO!!! HEY ELTON!!," yelled Vincent. That's my boy.

The concert was fabulous and went on for nearly three hours. When the two men sang Don't Let the Sun Go Down on Me, and the red, yellow and orange lights washed over the stage, I wept.

My brief essay:

Why I should win two tickets to see Billy Joel and Elton John at the Pyramid in Memphis April 14:

1. Not only do I own Billy Joel's albums: River of Dreams; Storm Front; An Innocent Man; The Nylon Curtain; Songs in the Attic; Glass Houses; 52nd Street; The Stranger; Turnstiles; Piano Man; and Streetlife Serenade, I know every word to 90 percent of the songs contained therein.

2. In 1978, I bought an unauthorized biography on Billy Joel and could answer any trivia question taken from it.

3. At age 9, I banged on a little brown Kenner organ and wore oversized sunglasses, singing "Crohn at the Pyramid in Memphis April 14:

2. In 1978, I bought an unauthorized biography on Billy Joel and could answer any trivia question taken from it.

3. At age 9, I banged on a little brown Kenner organ and wore oversized sunglasses, singing "Crocodile Rock."

4. I believe, together, Elton John and Billy Joel could lead the Earth to World peace

5. When "Bosom Buddies" first aired on ABC in November 1980, I decided it would be worth watching it because the theme song was Billy Joel's "My Life."

6. When Billy Joel and Christie Brinkley broke up, I found renewed hope.

7. When Elton appeared on the Grammy's this year with rapper Eminem, it strengthened my faith in the world peace theory.

ocodile Rock."

4. I believe, together, Elton John and Billy Joel could lead the Earth to World peace

5. When "Bosom Buddies" first aired on ABC in November 1980, I decided it would be worth watching it because the theme song was Billy Joel's "My Life."

6. When Billy Joel and Christie Brinkley broke up, I found renewed hope.

7. When Elton appeared on the Grammy's this year with rapper Eminem, it strengthened my faith in the world peace theory.

Julie M. Fidler is editor of the Arkansas Weekly and news director for WRD Entertainment. She may be reached by e-mail at [email protected].

April 18, 2001

Be prepared. It's the Boy Scout motto. My sons and I were prepared for Boy Scout weekend at Silver Dollar City.

We left early Friday afternoon to make the 4-hour drive. We had several new gadgets for this year's camping adventures. They included a new co

Julie M. Fidler is editor of the Arkansas Weekly and news director for WRD Entertainment. She may be reached by e-mail at [email protected].

April 18, 2001

Be prepared. It's the Boy Scout motto. My sons and I were prepared for Boy Scout weekend at Silver Dollar City.

We left early Friday afternoon to make the 4-hour drive. We had several new gadgets for this year's camping adventures. They included a new cot, a propane space heater and a propane cook stove. Most importantly, though, we'd bought half a dozen "power pegs."

See, last summer when we camped at Silver Dollar City Campground, we learned about the tent pads. Making reservations by phone, I asked an employee the difference (besides a couple bucks) between the facility's "wilderness area" and the pads. She told me the tent pads are on level ground, covered with pea gravel.

Wouldn't it be difficult to drive stakes into pea gravel?

Au contraire, sot, a propane space heater and a propane cook stove. Most importantly, though, we'd bought half a dozen "power pegs."

Wouldn't it be difficult to drive stakes into pea gravel?

Au contraire, she said. The purpose is to make it easier to drive in the tent stakes.

So, last August, we made futile attempts to drive our puny metal (aluminum, I suspect) tent stakes into the pea gravel. They'd go about a half inch before we hit what seemed to be solid rock. We broke our polyurethane hammer and borrowed a neighbor's to pound in the stakes the best we could. Most of them bent into U or L shapes.

But, last weekend we were prepared. I had purchased, from a local store, a package of bright yellow, tough plastic pegs and a rubber mallet. It was still difficult to driveshe said. The purpose is to make it easier to drive in the tent stakes.

But, last weekend we were prepared. I had purchased, from a local store, a package of bright yellow, tough plastic pegs and a rubber mallet. It was still difficult to drive the stakes into the surface below the gravel, but we set up our tent like pros.

Families were gathering at the tent pads around us, setting up their camps. The boys played on a playground as I sat in my fold-out chair, listening to the weather forecast on our portable radio and enjoying a nice cold, right-from-the-ice chest, drink.

Meanwhile, another mom with two boys pulled up to the pad next to us. They proceeded to unload their sport utility vehicle. It looked like they'd brought home with them in a giant Rubber Maid container. They spread a blue plastic tarp undee the stakes into the surface below the gravel, but we set up our tent like pros.

Meanwhile, another mom with two boys pulled up to the pad next to us. They proceeded to unload their sport utility vehicle. It looked like they'd brought home with them in a giant Rubber Maid container. They spread a blue plastic tarp under their tent and lined the tent with a giant inflatable mattress and blankets. The small dome tent was mostly made up of screen windows.

The mom was disappointed to find they had no fire ring (actually, an iron grill to contain a camp fire) at their site. "You can have ours," I said. "We're anxious to test out our new Coleman stove." My boys groaned. They had hoped to have a campfire later in the evening.

Her boys lugged the fire ring to their site, and I went about my business, trying to light up our stove and get a couple cans of Spaghetti-Os cookinger their tent and lined the tent with a giant inflatable mattress and blankets. The small dome tent was mostly made up of screen windows.

Her boys lugged the fire ring to their site, and I went about my business, trying to light up our stove and get a couple cans of Spaghetti-Os cooking. The smell of propane wafted to our site from behind the SUV next door. "Funny, that doesn't smell like a camp fire," I told my oldest son.

"It's not," Vincent answered. "She's got a cook stove too."

Nick, my second-grader approaching 5 feet tall, and weighing under 60 pounds, snooped around their camp, ignoring my orders to stay close. "They're cooking hot dogs," he reported back. "I'm hungry."

Of course, he spoke loudly enough for the other mom to hear. Next thing I knew, he g. The smell of propane wafted to our site from behind the SUV next door. "Funny, that doesn't smell like a camp fire," I told my oldest son.

"It's not," Vincent answered. "She's got a cook stove too."

Nick, my second-grader approaching 5 feet tall, and weighing under 60 pounds, snooped around their camp, ignoring my orders to stay close. "They're cooking hot dogs," he reported back. "I'm hungry."

Of course, he spoke loudly enough for the other mom to hear. Next thing I knew, he was munching on a hot dog in a bun. I growled.

Later, the neighbors started up their campfire. "Do we have any marshmallows"? Nick asked me. No, I hadn't brought any.

Neighbor mom to the rescue. She offered my boys roasted marshmallows and broke up my plans for a game of 3-handed Uno around the Coleman lantern. My sons gathered around the fire and told silly stories, laughing and carrying on, while I sat back in my chair.

When quiet time finally came and we all retired to our tents, the three of us quickly fell asleep was munching on a hot dog in a bun. I growled.

Later, the neighbors started up their campfire. "Do we have any marshmallows"? Nick asked me. No, I hadn't brought any.

When quiet time finally came and we all retired to our tents, the three of us quickly fell asleep. I awoke a few hours later to the sound of the wind whipping through the trees and our tent rippling fiercely. Then, the sound of hammering from nearby. I peeked out and saw the mom pounding profusely in the strong wind at a tent stake, hollering at her boys to work on the others. Their tent was flat. I apologize right now for my reaction. I snickered.

I lay back down and smiled, watching the ceiling of our 4-person tent ripple. The full moon provided enough light to see my watch. It was 2 a.m. when the neighbors fled tent site Number 65 like George and Kathy Lutz fled Amityville, leaving all of their personal belop. I awoke a few hours later to the sound of the wind whipping through the trees and our tent rippling fiercely. Then, the sound of hammering from nearby. I peeked out and saw the mom pounding profusely in the strong wind at a tent stake, hollering at her boys to work on the others. Their tent was flat. I apologize right now for my reaction. I snickered.

The next morning, as I was frying up a sumptuous breakfast of bacon and eggs on our new stove, the boys stumbled out of the tent like a couple of grizzly bears fresh out of hibernation. They had slept like logs. Vincent was shocked at the sight next door. "What happened?" he asked.

"Wind got their tent and they ran off around 2 this morning," I answered, subduing the giggles.

While we were pondering if they'd gone to a Branson motel, Nick, who had watched the neighbors put up their tent, said,ongings behind.

"Wind got their tent and they ran off around 2 this morning," I answered, subduing the giggles.

While we were pondering if they'd gone to a Branson motel, Nick, who had watched the neighbors put up their tent, said, "It's no wonder. They didn't use any stakes."

What have we learned from this?

Julie M. Fidler is editor of the Arkansas Weekly and news director for WRD Entertainment Inc. She may be reached by e-mail at [email protected].

April 11, 2001

Search For Harry Potter Leads to Wild Goose Chase

The quest for Harry Potter parapherna, "It's no wonder. They didn't use any stakes."

What have we learned from this?

Julie M. Fidler is editor of the Arkansas Weekly and news director for WRD Entertainment Inc. She may be reached by e-mail at [email protected].

April 11, 2001

Search For Harry Potter Leads to Wild Goose Chase

The quest for Harry Potter paraphernalia led my best friend and me on a wild goose chase from one end of Memphis to the other last weekend.

While surfing the Internet one day before spring break, I went to www.harrypotter.com. My sons and I are big fans of the books, by J.K. Rowling, about a loveable young wizard. And a side note to those who are frightened that reading the books might lead children to practice the arts of black magic or devil worship: I say, "You weren't a fan of Elizabeth Montgomery's series 'Bewitched' were you?" It's equally harmless. Just good entertainment.

The boys likealia led my best friend and me on a wild goose chase from one end of Memphis to the other last weekend.

The boys like to collect Harry Potter things. We have all four of the hard-cover books, two of them also in paperback, the audiotapes of each (which we've listened to over and over in the car) and even a copy of the fourth book, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, that came straight from England via a very nice bloke who just happens to be a friend of mine. I sewed Vincent some wizard's "dress robes" for Halloween last year, and Nick got a Harry costume on an after-Halloween sale. We have read the books aloud as a family activity, and take turns reading and listening. It makes for a wonderful way to spend time together that we all enjoy, and the boys are strengte to collect Harry Potter things. We have all four of the hard-cover books, two of them also in paperback, the audiotapes of each (which we've listened to over and over in the car) and even a copy of the fourth book, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, that came straight from England via a very nice bloke who just happens to be a friend of mine. I sewed Vincent some wizard's "dress robes" for Halloween last year, and Nick got a Harry costume on an after-Halloween sale. We have read the books aloud as a family activity, and take turns reading and listening. It makes for a wonderful way to spend time together that we all enjoy, and the boys are strengthening their reading and vocabulary skills in a painless manner without even being aware of it.

At any rate, I found some cool Harry stuff on the Web site, and when I clicked on it, I was referred to the Warner Bros. Studio store site. That's the company making a film of the first book, The Sorcerer's Stone, to be released Nov. 16. The site includes a listing of store locations. The closest three are in St. Louis, Houston and Memphis. While a day trip to the first two seemed unfeasible, the third was definitely a possibility. Mom and I were due a good shopping trip, and we could go on a Saturday while the boys were thening their reading and vocabulary skills in a painless manner without even being aware of it.

Upon further investigation, I found that the Memphis store is located in a humongous new mall, The Wolfchase Galleria. Oh boy! I told Mom, my aforementioned best friend, I believed "galleria" to be another word for "great big, honkin' mall." Of course, she was up for the trip, and I began to plot our course.

I looked at the online directions to the mall from various locations – Jonesboro, West Memphis and Little Rock among them. I also looked up a map and driving directions on Yahoo! I combined what I thought looked easiest of the two and typed it up. We got to Memphis all right, but our highway ended in a city street somewhere. Thank goodness I had a map of Memphis.

I don't feel that I was ever lost, because I knew where we were in relation to the mall at all times. I just had to figure out which streets to take which way to get there. The new mall is somewhere between the Bartlett and Germantown communities. We got to see a pretty bad part of town as well as some of the fancier new areas and wound our way past Pop Tunes, Rhodes College and the Memphis Zoo. We both needed to make a rest stop, but I was determined to ght looked easiest of the two and typed it up. We got to Memphis all right, but our highway ended in a city street somewhere. Thank goodness I had a map of Memphis.

After about an hour of wandering, we did find the mall, and it was glorious. The first thing we did was hit the ladies room, of course. After that, the food court, where I wrote out the exact route, using interstates, for the trip home.

When it came time to leave, it was raining to beat the band. We couldn't even see the interstate signs because of the downpour and 18-wheelers on either side of us, splashing water onto our windshield. We got onto a route I hadn't written down and I began freak out and even snap at my shopping buddy. But, in her classic form (my mother is a saint), she remained calm and assured me repeatedly that Interstate 40 would connect with Interstate 55 and we'd wind up in the same place across the Mississippi River. She was right. And, as soon as we got back into Arkansas, the rain was gone and the sun shone.

So, fellow shoppers, I'm passing my lesson on to you. If you'd like to find the Wolfchase Galleria east of Memphis, here are the easy interstate directions. We went via Newport on Highway 14, through Harrisburg, until we got to U.S. 63 at Payneway. Head southeast on U.S. 63 until you get to I-55, and shopping buddy. But, in her classic form (my mother is a saint), she remained calm and assured me repeatedly that Interstate 40 would connect with Interstate 55 and we'd wind up in the same place across the Mississippi River. She was right. And, as soon as we got back into Arkansas, the rain was gone and the sun shone.

So, fellow shoppers, I'm passing my lesson on to you. If you'd like to find the Wolfchase Galleria east of Memphis, here are the easy interstate directions. We went via Newport on Highway 14, through Harrisburg, until we got to U.S. 63 at Payneway. Head southeast on U.S. 63 until you get to I-55, and head south. Once you get over the river, stay on I-55 east until you get to I-240. Follow I-240 east and then north until you get to I-40. Take the Germantown Parkway exit (State Secondary 177) north a short ways, and the big, honkin' mall will be on your right. … You can't miss it!

Julie M. Fidler is editor of the Arkansas Weekly and news director for WRD Entertainment Inc. You may contact her by e-mail at [email protected]

March 21, 2001

To head south. Once you get over the river, stay on I-55 east until you get to I-240. Follow I-240 east and then north until you get to I-40. Take the Germantown Parkway exit (State Secondary 177) north a short ways, and the big, honkin' mall will be on your right. … You can't miss it!

Julie M. Fidler is editor of the Arkansas Weekly and news director for WRD Entertainment Inc. You may contact her by e-mail at [email protected]

March 21, 2001

To Go Or Not To Go?

I got the news today. Oh boy. My 20-year high school class reunion is set in stone.

Now, the big question is – to go or not to go? We had a 10-year reunion, and that wasn't really inspiration to go to the next one. Those who were my best friends didn't even go to that one. I went, and nothing had changed. The cheerleaders hung out with the cheerleaders; the jocks hung out with the jocks; the band members with the band members; and I sat there, post-marriage, watching it all.

A non-co Go Or Not To Go?

I got the news today. Oh boy. My 20-year high school class reunion is set in stone.

A non-conformist, not Miss Popularity in high school, devoid of school spirit and unwilling to participate in any extra-curricular activities, all high school meant to me was going from one class to another and, hopefully, interacting with my small, odd-man-out bunch of friends somewhere in between. Evenings and weekends were spent at home or with one or two of these pals at the mall or as far away from that school as we could get. If you've seen the critically acclaimed TV series Freaks and Geeks on the Fox Family Channel, we were somewhere between the two.

Our football team won one game during my entire 4-year high schooconformist, not Miss Popularity in high school, devoid of school spirit and unwilling to participate in any extra-curricular activities, all high school meant to me was going from one class to another and, hopefully, interacting with my small, odd-man-out bunch of friends somewhere in between. Evenings and weekends were spent at home or with one or two of these pals at the mall or as far away from that school as we could get. If you've seen the critically acclaimed TV series Freaks and Geeks on the Fox Family Channel, we were somewhere between the two.

Our football team won one game during my entire 4-year high school career. The lack of school spirit was so prominent, the district made pep assemblies mandatory. One of my friends and I would always try to ditch these events by either hiding out in the girls' room or leaving campus all together. Because we had a closed campus and two security guards, the latter always proved difficult.

Inevitably, as we were boogying across the campus yard, either "Fonzie" (the security guard who got his nickname by looking just like an older version of the Happy Days character) or his sidekick, "Pinky" (so named because she happened to be a woman who worked with "Fonzie&quool career. The lack of school spirit was so prominent, the district made pep assemblies mandatory. One of my friends and I would always try to ditch these events by either hiding out in the girls' room or leaving campus all together. Because we had a closed campus and two security guards, the latter always proved difficult.

Inevitably, as we were boogying across the campus yard, either "Fonzie" (the security guard who got his nickname by looking just like an older version of the Happy Days character) or his sidekick, "Pinky" (so named because she happened to be a woman who worked with "Fonzie") would hunt us down and run us back to the school gymnasium in their security golf cart. On one occasion, "Pinky" even confiscated my CHiPs squirt gun. She's probably sold it on Ebay for big bucks by now.

Once we were returned to the pep assemblies, we'd find a spot in the bleacher furthest away from the action and attempt to avoid becoming a part of the nonsense. This was sometimes achieved by playing with our handheld electronic games, Merlin and Simon, or by simply poking fun at those who actually showed some school spirit. When the principal would notice our reluctance to participate, he would singlot;) would hunt us down and run us back to the school gymnasium in their security golf cart. On one occasion, "Pinky" even confiscated my CHiPs squirt gun. She's probably sold it on Ebay for big bucks by now.

Another extra-curricular activity in which I had no interest were the dances. I was proud to say I didn't attend a single one between 1977 and 1981. Being half of a couple was stressed, and the word was, anyone who came on her own or with same-sex friends would be chastised. I had no high school sweetheart (although I briefly dated a disc jockey who was out of high school), and dances were another excuse to stay away from the school and the crowd that was so couples-minded.

I've been sitting back watching all the fuss about this upcomle us out and yell at us to cheer.

I've been sitting back watching all the fuss about this upcoming reunion from 500 miles away. In the early stages of planning, it was posted on the reunion Web site that the event would be $50 per couple, and whether you came as two or not, you'd pay the whole price. That immediately turned me off. I see by the information I received today it's been changed to $25 per person, although the organizers were sure to say "or $50 a couple." Why bother saying that, unless you get a discount for coming as a couple? Two times 25 is 50.

I have till May 1 to send in my money to get the special rate or I'll be paying $30 (which is, the note tells me, $60 per couple).

ming reunion from 500 miles away. In the early stages of planning, it was posted on the reunion Web site that the event would be $50 per couple, and whether you came as two or not, you'd pay the whole price. That immediately turned me off. I see by the information I received today it's been changed to $25 per person, although the organizers were sure to say "or $50 a couple." Why bother saying that, unless you get a discount for coming as a couple? Two times 25 is 50.

I have till May 1 to send in my money to get the special rate or I'll be paying $30 (which is, the note tells me, $60 per couple).

Julie M. Fidler is editor of the Arkansas Weekly and news director for WRD Entertainment Inc. She may be reached by e-mail at [email protected].

March 14, 2001

Another Slumber Party-less Birthday Gone

Another birthday's come and gone. Yippee. Well, at least I don't have to fret about that big four-oh for a couple more years.

Somewhere along the way

Julie M. Fidler is editor of the Arkansas Weekly and news director for WRD Entertainment Inc. She may be reached by e-mail at [email protected].

March 14, 2001

Another Slumber Party-less Birthday Gone

Another birthday's come and gone. Yippee. Well, at least I don't have to fret about that big four-oh for a couple more years.

Somewhere along the way, birthdays went from being something to be celebrated to something to be feared; and I now use them more as a time for reflection and mental self-abuse, asking questions such as, "Am I doing what I thought I'd be doing at this age?" and "What do I want out of life?" That's depressing. Also, ever since bearing children, I've realized that it's really the birthday observer's mother who should be congratulated and told "Happy Birthday." After all, she did all the work.

There's no other way I would've wanted to spend my 38th birthday than the way I did – shopping with my mother and eay, birthdays went from being something to be celebrated to something to be feared; and I now use them more as a time for reflection and mental self-abuse, asking questions such as, "Am I doing what I thought I'd be doing at this age?" and "What do I want out of life?" That's depressing. Also, ever since bearing children, I've realized that it's really the birthday observer's mother who should be congratulated and told "Happy Birthday." After all, she did all the work.

There's no other way I would've wanted to spend my 38th birthday than the way I did – shopping with my mother and eating whatever the heck I felt like. Mom and I have always been shopping buddies and glean a great deal of fun from wearing ourselves out in Hobby Lobby. However, I can remember a time when it was urgent to spend your birthday with your best friends.

Sometimes, we'd go to Shakey's Pizza Parlor where the birthday kid would get a free fake straw hat. They were made out of Styrofoam, and the "ribbon" on them was made from a piece of red paper that bore an advertisement for Shakey's. There, everyone would scarf down pizza and sing along with the piano player while the words to "A Bicycle Built for Two" were shone on the wall. The cheap straw hat brings back memories of Farrell's Ice Cream Parlour in the Northwoods Mall in Peoria, Illinois, where I worked a few weeks in May 1979. Waitressing apparently isn't my bag. They threatened to demote me to bus boy because I wasn't cheerful enough and I refused to wear a green plastic hula skirt and sing to customers who ordered "the volcano." Excuse me, but it's hard to be cheerful when you're wearing a Gibson Girl get-up, complete with garters, and some old coot who works at the mall jewelry store is trying to pinch your rear end.

At any rate, the best birthdayt; were shone on the wall. The cheap straw hat brings back memories of Farrell's Ice Cream Parlour in the Northwoods Mall in Peoria, Illinois, where I worked a few weeks in May 1979. Waitressing apparently isn't my bag. They threatened to demote me to bus boy because I wasn't cheerful enough and I refused to wear a green plastic hula skirt and sing to customers who ordered "the volcano." Excuse me, but it's hard to be cheerful when you're wearing a Gibson Girl get-up, complete with garters, and some old coot who works at the mall jewelry store is trying to pinch your rear end.

At any rate, the best birthday parties for girls were the slumber parties. I was invited to my first one at age nine, and they continued through high school.

Pizza was a staple, as were nacho cheese Doritos and Mountain Dew. That was in the days before video games or VCRs, so we came up with our own entertainment. These soirees usually took place in one of the girls' basement, and everyone would bring their jammies, sleeping bags and pillows. At one of my slumber parties, we were all shooting pool in the basement when water began to drip from above onto the billiard table. One of the gals had stuffed too much toilet paper in the commode direy parties for girls were the slumber parties. I was invited to my first one at age nine, and they continued through high school.

Pizza was a staple, as were nacho cheese Doritos and Mountain Dew. That was in the days before video games or VCRs, so we came up with our own entertainment. These soirees usually took place in one of the girls' basement, and everyone would bring their jammies, sleeping bags and pillows. At one of my slumber parties, we were all shooting pool in the basement when water began to drip from above onto the billiard table. One of the gals had stuffed too much toilet paper in the commode directly above us, and it had overflowed. It was at the same slumber party that, when we were finally ready to crash, we couldn't because my dad was moaning out loudly in his sleep with each exhale.

We would often host s�ances, trying to conjur up someone's dead grandma or Abraham Lincoln. We'd tell ghost stories and play truth or dare. On one occasion, we sat in an oval around one girl who lay on the floor. The leader told some sort of scary story, something about someone being hit by a train or some such thing, and then we would all concentrate and try to lift the girl with our fingertips. Ooooh! Scary stuff, 'eh kidsectly above us, and it had overflowed. It was at the same slumber party that, when we were finally ready to crash, we couldn't because my dad was moaning out loudly in his sleep with each exhale.

Another favorite activity was darts with some poor teen idol's pinup stuck on the board. In my basement, you had your choice between Sweat Hog John Travolta or Hardy Boy Shaun Cassidy.

At other parties, the first girl to fall asleep would get peanut butter spread between her toes or her fingers dipped in warm water.

Another favorite activity was darts with some poor teen idol's pinup stuck on the board. In my basement, you had your choice between Sweat Hog John Travolta or Hardy Boy Shaun Cassidy.

At other parties, the first girl to fall asleep would get peanut butter spread between her toes or her fingers dipped in warm water.

I remember my friend Regina and I plotting to shock our friend Teresa at Teresa's slumber party by giving her the impression we were beer drinkers. The plan was for Regina to bring an empty beer can which she would fill up with water when Teresa wasn't looking, and we'd pass it between the two of us, drinking it up quickly to measure the response. Ends up, Regina couldn't find an empty can and brought a full can of Hamm's. We split it three ways. It was yucky.

Julie M. Fidler is editor of the Arkansas Weekly and news director for WRD Entertainment Inc. She may be reached by e-mail at [email protected]

February 28, 2001

I Was Able To Sld fill up with water when Teresa wasn't looking, and we'd pass it between the two of us, drinking it up quickly to measure the response. Ends up, Regina couldn't find an empty can and brought a full can of Hamm's. We split it three ways. It was yucky.

  Julie M. Fidler is editor of the Arkansas Weekly and news director for WRD Entertainment Inc. She may be reached by e-mail at [email protected]

February 28, 2001

I Was Able To Say, 'I'm With The Band ...

  "I'm with the band." How cool is it to be able to say that? Cameron Crowe went a long way saying that, I imagine.

  I was saying it when I was 4. My oldest brother, Bob, was in intermediate band in school. He'd gotten a snare drum and was really good at it.

  But, alas, I guess the school band was not cool enough for my brother (although he stuck with it all through high school and won plenty of competitions). Bob and two of his buddies formed a group. At first, theySay, 'I'm With The Band ...

"I'm with the band." How cool is it to be able to say that? Cameron Crowe went a long way saying that, I imagine.

I was saying it when I was 4. My oldest brother, Bob, was in intermediate band in school. He'd gotten a snare drum and was really good at it.

But, alas, I guess the school band was not cool enough for my brother (although he stuck with it all through high school and won plenty of competitions). Bob and two of his buddies formed a group. At first, they called it The Victors. There was Ray Spillers on guitar, Steve Johnson on bass, Bob on drums and everyone trying to sing with Steve in lead. They called the group something different every week it seemed. Bob got him a Sears drum set – a pretty red metallic one – and he would change the band's logo that he taped to his bass drum with each name change the band would go through.

The boys would practice in the basement. I remember hearing the Beatles' "Birthday," Frigid Pink's "House of the Rising Sun," Iron Butterfly's "In A Gadda Da Vida," "Wipe Out," Edgar Wintey called it The Victors. There was Ray Spillers on guitar, Steve Johnson on bass, Bob on drums and everyone trying to sing with Steve in lead. They called the group something different every week it seemed. Bob got him a Sears drum set – a pretty red metallic one – and he would change the band's logo that he taped to his bass drum with each name change the band would go through.

The boys would practice in the basement. I remember hearing the Beatles' "Birthday," Frigid Pink's "House of the Rising Sun," Iron Butterfly's "In A Gadda Da Vida," "Wipe Out," Edgar Winter Band tunes, "Summertime Blue," "Just Like Me," "Little Bit o' Soul" and others. If I was lucky, I could slip down the basement stairs and sit on the bottom step to listen without getting thrown out. But, suggest they let me play my tambourine with them like Davy Jones? It was a ticket to ride.

As the boys grew older and their hair got longer, they began to do "gigs." There were school dances and other events. I remember going to one dance where the group played at the local community hall. They had taken great care to cover the wall area behind them with tin foil, and they shineer Band tunes, "Summertime Blue," "Just Like Me," "Little Bit o' Soul" and others. If I was lucky, I could slip down the basement stairs and sit on the bottom step to listen without getting thrown out. But, suggest they let me play my tambourine with them like Davy Jones? It was a ticket to ride.

As the boys grew older and their hair got longer, they began to do "gigs." There were school dances and other events. I remember going to one dance where the group played at the local community hall. They had taken great care to cover the wall area behind them with tin foil, and they shined a light on it that was originally used with aluminum Christmas trees. It sat on the floor and had a plastic color wheel, like a pie cut into four – there was orange, red, blue and green on the disc. The wheel in front of the light rotated, bouncing the colors off the tin-covered wall. The boys wore matching red button-up shirts – almost as good as Nehru jackets; and Bob had metal drumsticks that looked like magic wands to me, with a white tip at each end.

It was at this function that I realized the chicks really dug my big brother, and the guys in the band didn't want his kid sister around. In the crowd,ed a light on it that was originally used with aluminum Christmas trees. It sat on the floor and had a plastic color wheel, like a pie cut into four – there was orange, red, blue and green on the disc. The wheel in front of the light rotated, bouncing the colors off the tin-covered wall. The boys wore matching red button-up shirts – almost as good as Nehru jackets; and Bob had metal drumsticks that looked like magic wands to me, with a white tip at each end.

It was at this function that I realized the chicks really dug my big brother, and the guys in the band didn't want his kid sister around. In the crowd, I heard teen-age girls comment on how cute Bob was. "That's my brother," I'd say proudly. They were in awe.

Bob stuck to his drumming, and group members came and went. Later, when I was a teen-ager, our parents and I went to see Bob's latest group (a country-rock one called Full Share) perform in a local tavern. When Bob tore into "Wipe Out," the crowd went wild, shouting "Go Bob, go Bob!" I swelled with pride. "That's my brother up there," I thought.

One time, the guys were practicing in the garage, a hobby that often drew neighbo, I heard teen-age girls comment on how cute Bob was. "That's my brother," I'd say proudly. They were in awe.

One time, the guys were practicing in the garage, a hobby that often drew neighborhood kids to our driveway on their bikes, when Dad got a surprise knock on the door. It was the cops. Jam session over for the day.

Six years ago this Labor Day weekend, Bob was at home late at night when he got a call. Some guys he knew were at a local establishment, jamming, and they needed a drummer. Could he come?

Bob hopped in his T-bird and was soon on his way up a curvy dark hill in Mossville, Illinois, our hometown. It wasn't long before our mom and dad got the call 500 miles away – Bob had been in a wreck and wasn't expected to make it. The three of us leftorhood kids to our driveway on their bikes, when Dad got a surprise knock on the door. It was the cops. Jam session over for the day.

Six years ago this Labor Day weekend, Bob was at home late at night when he got a call. Some guys he knew were at a local establishment, jamming, and they needed a drummer. Could he come?

Well, Bob did live, and he still drums. Just not as often and not as hard, but just as good.

Julie M. Fidler is editor of the Arkansas Weekly and news director for WRD Entertainment Inc. She may be reached by e-mail at [email protected].

February 21, 2001

'Tis almost the season. I'm talking about spring, of course. And with spring come yard sales and garagt early the next morning to be with him.

Well, Bob did live, and he still drums. Just not as often and not as hard, but just as good.

Julie M. Fidler is editor of the Arkansas Weekly and news director for WRD Entertainment Inc. She may be reached by e-mail at [email protected].

February 21, 2001

'Tis almost the season. I'm talking about spring, of course. And with spring come yard sales and garage sales.

In my grown-up life, I've not been that big into garage sales. While pregnant with each of my boys, I did enjoy going to yard sales and used clothing stores in search of baby stuff.

My grandma was the queen of garage sales. I have great memories of piling into the back seat of the family station wagon. My mom and I would go meet her sister, Dorothy, at their mom and dad's house to take Grandma garage saling. Mom knew all of the roads in most of the Peoria, Ill., neighborhoods. She, Grandma and Aunt Dorothy would look through that morning's newspaper and circle the garage sales that sounded promge sales.

In my grown-up life, I've not been that big into garage sales. While pregnant with each of my boys, I did enjoy going to yard sales and used clothing stores in search of baby stuff.

With Aunt Dorothy riding shotgun, Mom would plan her route, according to neighborhood. When we'd pull up on one that was mostly clothing, there'd be a collective groan. Aunt Dorothy was looking for used romance books, Mom for something specific and Grandma for whatever presented itself. I would always be relieved to find homes with lots of toys, records or books to sell. Our favorite garage sales were in the classier neighborhoods and included some in nice basements.

With Grandma by my side, I had the Midas touch. I'd touch it and it'd become mine. Somehow, the thimising.

With Grandma by my side, I had the Midas touch. I'd touch it and it'd become mine. Somehow, the things that Grandma might have sensed I wanted but I hadn't touched, found their way under our Christmas tree later that year.

Grandma had a unique way of wrapping presents that my brothers and I loved. She would take a big piece of wrapping paper, place up to a dozen toys or items right in the middle of it, pull the paper up on the sides and tie it with ribbon on the top. The big, bulky gifts were easy to peek into where there were gaps in the paper. And what fun to open!

I think I'll be doing more than my share of garage saling this spring, in search of old bike parts. Lasings that Grandma might have sensed I wanted but I hadn't touched, found their way under our Christmas tree later that year.

I think I'll be doing more than my share of garage saling this spring, in search of old bike parts. Last weekend, the boys and I were visiting my parents in Mountain View when I heard a local antique store calling my name. When I got there, something upstairs called me to climb the staircase.Then, I saw it – a bike that must be from 1970 or so. The tires were flat, as one would expect. But, other than that, it looked to be in good shape. It has the handlebars we all remember from then – I think they're called "ape hangers." And, there's the banana seat, in perfect condition aside from a little dirt. The chrome has some rust, but it's not bad.

st weekend, the boys and I were visiting my parents in Mountain View when I heard a local antique store calling my name. When I got there, something upstairs called me to climb the staircase.

Then, I saw it – a bike that must be from 1970 or so. The tires were flat, as one would expect. But, other than that, it looked to be in good shape. It has the handlebars we all remember from then – I think they're called "ape hangers." And, there's the banana seat, in perfect condition aside from a little dirt. The chrome has some rust, but it's not bad.

Before I knew it, I was writing a check for 15 bucks and trying to figure out how to stuff the bike into the trunk of my little car while my youngest son and mother helped. When I got it back to my folks' house, Dad took off the front wheel to make it easier to clean. He also loosened the handlebars so I could get the bicycle in my trunk – not the reaction I expected. Somehow, I thought he'd think I was a little silly to want the little girls' bike in the first place.

I spent much of that night and the next day applying chrome polish to the front rim and using a fine steel wool

I spent much of that night and the next day applying chrome polish to the front rim and using a fine steel wool to remove the rust. It's amazing! I'd like to replace at least one of the pedals because some of its plastic is broken, and get new handlebar grips. However, you can't find them like that any more. That's where more antique shops, garage sales and flea markets come in. I also hope to become expert enough to paint the bike metallic raspberry, like the one I got when I was 7, if I can ever find the proper can of spray paint.

Hurry up, spring!

Julie M. Fidler is editor of the Arkansas Weekly and news director for WRD Entertainment Inc. She may be reached by e-mail at juli to remove the rust. It's amazing! I'd like to replace at least one of the pedals because some of its plastic is broken, and get new handlebar grips. However, you can't find them like that any more. That's where more antique shops, garage sales and flea markets come in. I also hope to become expert enough to paint the bike metallic raspberry, like the one I got when I was 7, if I can ever find the proper can of spray paint.

Hurry up, spring!

Julie M. Fidler is editor of the Arkansas Weekly and news director for WRD Entertainment Inc. She may be reached by e-mail at [email protected].

February 14, 2001

Is it possible for a 12-year-old boy to be senile?

I don't really know much about 12-year-old boys, so maybe you parents who've been through it before can fill me in. My oldest son has always been the guinea pig for everything, and we've all (including him) learned some things.

The boy usually gets straight A's, or at least is on the A & B honor roll all the [email protected].

February 14, 2001

Is it possible for a 12-year-old boy to be senile?

I don't really know much about 12-year-old boys, so maybe you parents who've been through it before can fill me in. My oldest son has always been the guinea pig for everything, and we've all (including him) learned some things.

The boy usually gets straight A's, or at least is on the A & B honor roll all the time. So, he's quite intelligent. He never seeks out my help; he gets his homework done at school most of the time; and I have no idea what his assignments are or when they're due. I only find out after he's lost or forgotten them.

Several times a month, he calls me at work, in a panic. The typical message (which he leaves on my phone machine) goes something like this:

First call: "Mom, that math project is due today. I can't find it. Could you go home and get it and bring it to me here?"

Second call: (I've been out and donime. So, he's quite intelligent. He never seeks out my help; he gets his homework done at school most of the time; and I have no idea what his assignments are or when they're due. I only find out after he's lost or forgotten them.

Several times a month, he calls me at work, in a panic. The typical message (which he leaves on my phone machine) goes something like this:

First call: "Mom, that math project is due today. I can't find it. Could you go home and get it and bring it to me here?"

Second call: (I've been out and don't get his messages until later.) "Mom, I really need that math project. I think it's still on the coffee table. Please bring it."

Third call: (sounding near tears) "Mom, please answer. I'll get a zero if I don't have that math project. You know, it's the one I glued the stuff on last night. The substitute says she'll be here till three if you can bring it. Please?"

I check my messages when I get back in around 2 p.m. This is getting old. I head home and look on the coffee table. No glued-together math project there. I go into his bedroom. My goodnn't get his messages until later.) "Mom, I really need that math project. I think it's still on the coffee table. Please bring it."

I check my messages when I get back in around 2 p.m. This is getting old. I head home and look on the coffee table. No glued-together math project there. I go into his bedroom. My goodness. I don't think I could find anything in here. But, I look anyway. Nope, nothing doing. No math project.

I call the school secretary back and tell her the project is nowhere to be found. The kid gets a bad grade for not turning it in on time. He finds it the next day, crumpled up and stuck behind the television in his room.

Every single school morning, I expect the boy to do three things: brush his teeth, wash his face and comb his hair. I figure he can remember to get some clothes on. Invariably, one of the three things is forgotten daily. It changes each time. He'll ness. I don't think I could find anything in here. But, I look anyway. Nope, nothing doing. No math project.

Every single school morning, I expect the boy to do three things: brush his teeth, wash his face and comb his hair. I figure he can remember to get some clothes on. Invariably, one of the three things is forgotten daily. It changes each time. He'll be sitting at the breakfast table with his hair all askew. "Didn't you comb your hair?" I ask.

"Oh, I forgot," is the response. Same goes for the face washing and teeth brushing. This morning, it was socks. Well, putting on socks is not on the list.

Since he's hit puberty, we've added deodorant to the daily list. Now, it's getting too complicated.

Do you have to keep your pre-teen's list of things to do less than three? Maybe that's where we're failing.

The ki be sitting at the breakfast table with his hair all askew. "Didn't you comb your hair?" I ask.

"Oh, I forgot," is the response. Same goes for the face washing and teeth brushing. This morning, it was socks. Well, putting on socks is not on the list.

Since he's hit puberty, we've added deodorant to the daily list. Now, it's getting too complicated.

Do you have to keep your pre-teen's list of things to do less than three? Maybe that's where we're failing.

The kid's feet are now bigger than mine. This requires a new pair of shoes every couple of months. Normally, I buy the cheapest ones I can find. Luckily, he's not into the peer pressure about that yet. Last month, I bought him and his brother very nice sneakers, the name brands that all the kids seem to want.

Last weekend he was to go on a Boy Scout hike. I reminded him before he left to put on his old hiking boots and his uniform shirt. I've also asked him if he needs any money or snacks on this trip. "I don't know; the leader didn't say," he says.

We get to the loadid's feet are now bigger than mine. This requires a new pair of shoes every couple of months. Normally, I buy the cheapest ones I can find. Luckily, he's not into the peer pressure about that yet. Last month, I bought him and his brother very nice sneakers, the name brands that all the kids seem to want.

We get to the loading-up point, and I see he's wearing his good, new, suede sneakers and doesn't have on the uniform shirt. The patrol leader asks me for $15 for supplies, and another boy asks my son if he forgot his sack dinner.

What I've told you here is just the tip of the iceberg. He carries his Gameboy from the front door to the car, but isn't wearing his coat in 10 degree-weather.

Typical, yes or no?

Julie M. Fidler is editor of the Arkansas Weekly and news director of WRD Entertainment Inc. She may be reached by e-mail at [email protected] point, and I see he's wearing his good, new, suede sneakers and doesn't have on the uniform shirt. The patrol leader asks me for $15 for supplies, and another boy asks my son if he forgot his sack dinner.

  What I've told you here is just the tip of the iceberg. He carries his Gameboy from the front door to the car, but isn't wearing his coat in 10 degree-weather.

  Typical, yes or no?

  Julie M. Fidler is editor of the Arkansas Weekly and news director of WRD Entertainment Inc. She may be reached by e-mail at [email protected].

January 31, 2001

Normally, I don't get interested or too involved in politics. After being a journalist/news person for 19 years, and through the training I received in college, workshops, seminars and on the job, I've learned to be unbiased. I've also learned that a column is one writer's opinion; an editorial the opinion of a publication.

There's not much I get fired up about, and if there is, I usually keep my opinion to myself.com.

January 31, 2001

Normally, I don't get interested or too involved in politics. After being a journalist/news person for 19 years, and through the training I received in college, workshops, seminars and on the job, I've learned to be unbiased. I've also learned that a column is one writer's opinion; an editorial the opinion of a publication.

There's not much I get fired up about, and if there is, I usually keep my opinion to myself. Everyone who knows me knows I'd much rather write about "happy" or interesting things than serious or controversial things. My family is my favorite subject, and I've gotten lots of nice compliments (usually from other moms) about how my lifestyle columns are a "slice of life." That always makes my day.

Then, when I choose to write about something like a proposed legislation, I draw all kinds of fire I hadn't expected. The skin is not that thick, and being a wishy, washy feature writer, these e-mails, calls and letters do hurt. Who would have thought writing something speaking out against tortur. Everyone who knows me knows I'd much rather write about "happy" or interesting things than serious or controversial things. My family is my favorite subject, and I've gotten lots of nice compliments (usually from other moms) about how my lifestyle columns are a "slice of life." That always makes my day.

Let me point out that I am indeed human. I am not a witch or someone trying to be untruthful or close-minded. Nor am I "out to twist the news to persuade readers to have (my) views" as one e-mail writer so eloquently said. Gosh, I don't care if someone disagrees with me. That's their prerogative. I'm not out to "brainwash" anyone. I'm just stating one woman's opinion.

I was not comparing farmers to Jeffrey Dahmer. I was just saying that maybe something needs to be done to help farmers when a situation occurring pets would draw nasty feedback? Silly me.

I was not comparing farmers to Jeffrey Dahmer. I was just saying that maybe something needs to be done to help farmers when a situation occurs that caves in their operations.

One fellow who wrote to me is worried that, if House Bill 1180 (one dealing with cruelty toward animals) passes, he won't be able to put shoes on his horses or go hunting any more. I sent a copy of the bill to this nice gentleman. Within the bill, it says "Nothing in this act shall be construed as prohibiting conduct that is otherwise authorized by law or legal privilege, including, but not limited to: engaging in routine accepted livestock or poultry management practices or routine accepted animal husbandry practices; protecting livestock and poultry; engaging in conduct authorized by Amendment 35 of the Arkansas Constitution, Chapters 41 through 46 of Title 15 of the Arkansas Code, and Arkansas Game and Fish Commission regulations promulgated thereunder; and engaging in the use of a humane method of destruction of an ill or injured animal for the purpose of ending the suffering of the animal."

Another guy who called was worried that he wouldn't be able to end the suffering of an ailing pet. It's in the paragraph above. He was also concerned about a dog who threatens family members. I told him, I wouldn't hesitate to rub out a pit bull that's after one of my kids.

authorized by Amendment 35 of the Arkansas Constitution, Chapters 41 through 46 of Title 15 of the Arkansas Code, and Arkansas Game and Fish Commission regulations promulgated thereunder; and engaging in the use of a humane method of destruction of an ill or injured animal for the purpose of ending the suffering of the animal."

At any rate, this bill is not the end all and be all. It's perhaps not the right answer. That being the case, instead of wasting your valuable time and effort writing to some lame-brained, slushy columnist like myself, go ahead and write to your legislators, drop them an e-mail or call them.

Julie M. Fidler is editor of the Arkansas Weekly and news director for WRD Entertainment Inc. She may be reached by e-mail at jmfidl> At any rate, this bill is not the end all and be all. It's perhaps not the right answer. That being the case, instead of wasting your valuable time and effort writing to some lame-brained, slushy columnist like myself, go ahead and write to your legislators, drop them an e-mail or call them.

Julie M. Fidler is editor of the Arkansas Weekly and news director for WRD Entertainment Inc. She may be reached by e-mail at [email protected].

January 24, 2001

Having Fun With Big Brothers

Brothers – you can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em.

I have two "big" brothers myself. When I was a kid, of course, I thought I could do without them, but now I wish I had them closer. My brothers, Mike (the middle child) and Bob (the oldest) are all four years apart. I thought that was [email protected].

January 24, 2001

Having Fun With Big Brothers

Brothers – you can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em.

Early on, there weren't any girls in the neighborhood my age to play with. If I wanted someone to play with, it'd have to be my brothers, and I'd have to play by their rules. Good thing I wasn't big into dolls. Bob and Mike were naturally into playing with Hot Wheels cars and Creepy Crawlers. For those of you youngsters who don't remember Creepy Crawlers from Mattel: It consisted mainly of a hot plate-type device, molds and "goop." You could get all kinds of molds, but mostly there were bugs, worms, frogs and spiders. The goop, which would cook so perfect growing up that I planned my own sons four years apart.

Early on, there weren't any girls in the neighborhood my age to play with. If I wanted someone to play with, it'd have to be my brothers, and I'd have to play by their rules. Good thing I wasn't big into dolls. Bob and Mike were naturally into playing with Hot Wheels cars and Creepy Crawlers. For those of you youngsters who don't remember Creepy Crawlers from Mattel: It consisted mainly of a hot plate-type device, molds and "goop." You could get all kinds of molds, but mostly there were bugs, worms, frogs and spiders. The goop, which would cook into a nice, rubbery texture in the "Thing Maker" (the hot plate), came in all colors – black, white, brown, red, green and even glow in the dark.

We would make these in mass quantities and store them up for our occasional "throw Creepy Crawlers at each other" events. They actually always turned into "see how many times you can hit Julie in the eye with a Creepy Crawler before she starts bawling" fights. The game would take place in the boys' room in the basement. There, the floor was slick, cold concrete, the walls were glossy-painted cinder block and bunk beds were where Mike ank into a nice, rubbery texture in the "Thing Maker" (the hot plate), came in all colors – black, white, brown, red, green and even glow in the dark.

To make things really interesting, the boys would turn out the lights. After charging up the glow-in-the-dark Creepy Crawlers by the table lamp, the lights would go out, and we'd all see if we could hit each other with them. The trick was to remain quiet so you wouldn't be detected. Cowering in a corner, I'd hear a "whoosh," and splat, a giant, plastic tick in my face. Being only four or five years old, I'd squeal – a dead giveaway to my exact location, leading to a severe pelting. More crying. Suddenly, the light would come on and a pillow was shoved in my face. "Shuddup! Ya want Mond Bob slept.

Of course I didn't want Mom to hear me, because then, she'd stop all the fun. And, so on it went.

When the boys got tired of that, they'd think of something else to do. For example, how about a game of "push Julie down the stairs in a cardboard box"? I don't remember where the box came from, but it was pretty good size. In theory, to the boys and me, it sounded like it'd be the next best thing to sledding down a snowy hill. Maybe little sister should have the honor of going first. Wow. I feltom to hear ya?" Bob would be saying in a loud, hoarse whisper.

Of course I didn't want Mom to hear me, because then, she'd stop all the fun. And, so on it went.

When the boys got tired of that, they'd think of something else to do. For example, how about a game of "push Julie down the stairs in a cardboard box"? I don't remember where the box came from, but it was pretty good size. In theory, to the boys and me, it sounded like it'd be the next best thing to sledding down a snowy hill. Maybe little sister should have the honor of going first. Wow. I felt important. Obviously, I was too young to understand the guinea pig concept.

The boys generously carried the box to the top of the basement steps and helped me in. I remember thudding roughly down the stairs and falling out of the box onto the floor at the bottom, but somehow, I don't recall my brothers ever taking their turn.

I gotta hand it to them. My brothers were always imaginative and even artistic. Both of them enjoyed reading MAD Magazine and they could draw those Don Martin characters extremely well. As we got older, Mike and I, on quiet rainy or cold afternoons,t important. Obviously, I was too young to understand the guinea pig concept.

I gotta hand it to them. My brothers were always imaginative and even artistic. Both of them enjoyed reading MAD Magazine and they could draw those Don Martin characters extremely well. As we got older, Mike and I, on quiet rainy or cold afternoons, would get out the coloring books and do some unconventional coloring. It involved not only crayons, but pencil or typing erasers and black ballpoint ink pens. Using an eraser, we'd remove portions of the original drawing in a coloring book and turn Woody Woodpecker into an old woman or Batman into a ballet dancer with a tutu. This tradition carried on until we were skillfully turning Charlie Brown into E.T. and Dennis the Menace into an '80s-style punk rocker. In his adult life as a big company's computer tech guy, Mike has gone on to use a computer program to put his friends' heads on celebrities' bodies with seamless precision.

Always an aspiring cartoonist, Mike's developed a comic strip he calls "Joey." It features Australian critters – a little kangaroo aptly named Joey and his friend, a koala who has not yet been named. Still living in Illinois, where we grew up, Mike mailed our folks the first installment of Joey. It's quite good, so I thought I'd share it with Arkansas Weekly readers. Please check it out on page eight of this edition.

Mike's developed four more of the Joey strips and has plans to keep going until he runs out of ideas. He says they're based on a lot of things from our childhood (which obial"> Always an aspiring cartoonist, Mike's developed a comic strip he calls "Joey." It features Australian critters – a little kangaroo aptly named Joey and his friend, a koala who has not yet been named. Still living in Illinois, where we grew up, Mike mailed our folks the first installment of Joey. It's quite good, so I thought I'd share it with Arkansas Weekly readers. Please check it out on page eight of this edition.

Mike's developed four more of the Joey strips and has plans to keep going until he runs out of ideas. He says they're based on a lot of things from our childhood (which obviously was pretty funny). Future strips include Joey and his friend plotting to build a tree house in their neighborhood. Let me know what you think of the strips (you might wait till you've seen more than one), and I'll pass the word on to big brother.

January 17, 2001

At this writing, Rep. Jim Wood (D-Tupelo) has introduced proposed legislation against animal cruelty. House Bill 1180 has gone through two readings and was referred to the House's judiciary committee. Wood wants to increabviously was pretty funny). Future strips include Joey and his friend plotting to build a tree house in their neighborhood. Let me know what you think of the strips (you might wait till you've seen more than one), and I'll pass the word on to big brother.

January 17, 2001

At this writing, Rep. Jim Wood (D-Tupelo) has introduced proposed legislation against animal cruelty. House Bill 1180 has gone through two readings and was referred to the House's judiciary committee. Wood wants to increase penalties for deliberate and violent acts against animals and wants judges to be able to require mental exams for people who are cruel to animals.

This is not a bad idea. Animal cruelty in Arkansas seems to be in the news more and more lately. We had those young men who thought it would be humorous to toss a little kitten out the window of a pickup truck, and more recently surfacing was an animal shelter whose staff drowned cats as a form of euthanasia.

The Humane Society of the United States, found on the Internet at www.hsus.org, tells about thousands of chickens dyiase penalties for deliberate and violent acts against animals and wants judges to be able to require mental exams for people who are cruel to animals.

The Humane Society of the United States, found on the Internet at www.hsus.org, tells about thousands of chickens dying in western Arkansas, as a result of the December ice storms.

According to the Web site, "Some have escaped from caved-in buildings, others are still trapped inside. Most have been without food or water for weeks."

The article says roofs caved in and power went out, shutting down the feeding and watering machines. Thousands of the chickens were either crushed, caught in the wreckage or forced outside into the freezing cold.

The farmers who raise chickens do so for corporations such as Tyson Foods. They're contraing in western Arkansas, as a result of the December ice storms.

According to the Web site, "Some have escaped from caved-in buildings, others are still trapped inside. Most have been without food or water for weeks."

The farmers who raise chickens do so for corporations such as Tyson Foods. They're contracted to house and care for the birds but do not own them.

According to HSUS, "When the barns collapse, the farming 'partners' have no legal right to move the chickens to a safe place. So while the birds die of cold, hunger, thirst and suffocation (from huddling too closely for warmth), farmers must wait for the corporations to act."

In Wood's proposal to update Arkansas Code 5-62-101 regarding cruelty to animals, he makes it a first degree offense for any person who "causes pain, serious physical injury or death to any domesticated animal;or tortures, acted to house and care for the birds but do not own them.

In Wood's proposal to update Arkansas Code 5-62-101 regarding cruelty to animals, he makes it a first degree offense for any person who "causes pain, serious physical injury or death to any domesticated animal;or tortures, mutilates, maims, cripples, poisons or disables any domesticated animal.

"A person commits the offense of cruelty to animals in the second degree if he knowingly: abandons any animal; subjects any animal to cruel treatment; subjects any animal in his custody to cruel neglect; or kills or injures any animal belonging to another without legal privilege or consent of the owner."

A first degree offense is a felony; a second degree offense is a misdemeanor. Get three misdemeanor offenses, and it's automatically a felony.

mutilates, maims, cripples, poisons or disables any domesticated animal.

A first degree offense is a felony; a second degree offense is a misdemeanor. Get three misdemeanor offenses, and it's automatically a felony.

Wood's proposal states "the court may order any person found guilty of first or second degree cruelty to animals to receive a psychiatric or psychological evaluation …" Officers, upon arresting someone for the offense, would be allowed to seize the animal from the suspect.

Seeing a shrink is a good idea for someone who would do such a thing. I've read articles about the fact that someone who abuses animals often "graduates" to humans. The man who stands out in my mind is Jeffrey Dahmer.

According to information compiled and researched by Eleanor S;Wood's proposal states "the court may order any person found guilty of first or second degree cruelty to animals to receive a psychiatric or psychological evaluation …" Officers, upon arresting someone for the offense, would be allowed to seize the animal from the suspect.

According to information compiled and researched by Eleanor Shelburne, doctor of veterinary medicine of the Portland Veterinary Medical Association's animal welfare committee, and the Humane Society of the United States, Dahmer's not alone.

Shelburne writes:

"Some of the most striking evidence for a link between animal cruelty and human violence lies in the case histories of many of the 20th century's most infamous criminals."

• Mass-murderer and cannibal Jeffrey Dahmer killed neighbors' pets, staked cats to trees and impaled a dog's head on a stick.

Shelburne writes:

"Some of the most striking evidence for a link between animal cruelty and human violence lies in the case histories of many of the 20th century's most infamous criminals."

• Mass-murderer and cannibal Jeffrey Dahmer killed neighbors' pets, staked cats to trees and impaled a dog's head on a stick.

• Patrick Sherril, who murdered 14 co-workers and then killed himself, stole pets, then tied them up and allowed his own dog to mutilate them.

• David Berkowitz, the so-called "Son of Sam," shot his neighbor's labrador retriever.

• Albert DeSalvo, the "Boston Strangler," shot arrows into boxes of trapped cats and dogs. He killed 13 women in 1962-63.

• Brenda Spencer, who fired 40 shots into a crowd of children, murdering two and wounding nine, had a history of setting the taial">• Patrick Sherril, who murdered 14 co-workers and then killed himself, stole pets, then tied them up and allowed his own dog to mutilate them.

• David Berkowitz, the so-called "Son of Sam," shot his neighbor's labrador retriever.

• Albert DeSalvo, the "Boston Strangler," shot arrows into boxes of trapped cats and dogs. He killed 13 women in 1962-63.

• Brenda Spencer, who fired 40 shots into a crowd of children, murdering two and wounding nine, had a history of setting the tails of neighborhood cats and dogs on fire.

• Edmund Emil Kemper III murdered his mother and seven other women in the early 1970s. At 13, he killed neighborhood cats (sometimes burying them alive) and put their heads on poles and muttered incantations over his "trophies." He sliced off the top of one cat's head with a machete, decapitated another one and killed his own cat then decapitated and cut her into small pieces. This is exactly what he did to his mother in later years, after killing her.

• Luke Woodham of Pearl, Miss., at 16, stabbed his motheils of neighborhood cats and dogs on fire.

• Luke Woodham of Pearl, Miss., at 16, stabbed his mother to death and then went to high school, where he shot and killed two classmates and injured seven others. Prior to these killings, Woodham wrote in his journal that he and an accomplice beat, burned and otherwise tortured his dog, Sparkle, to death. He described the act as "true beauty." In June 1998, Woodham was found guilty of three murders and seven counts of aggravated assault. He was sentenced to three life sentences and an additional 20 years for each assault charge.

• Kip Kinkel of Springfield, Ore., at 15, killed both of his parents and then proceeded to open fire on his high school cafeteria, kier to death and then went to high school, where he shot and killed two classmates and injured seven others. Prior to these killings, Woodham wrote in his journal that he and an accomplice beat, burned and otherwise tortured his dog, Sparkle, to death. He described the act as "true beauty." In June 1998, Woodham was found guilty of three murders and seven counts of aggravated assault. He was sentenced to three life sentences and an additional 20 years for each assault charge.

• Kip Kinkel of Springfield, Ore., at 15, killed both of his parents and then proceeded to open fire on his high school cafeteria, killing two classmates and injuring twenty-two others.

• Eric Harris, 18, and Dylan Klebold, 17, of Littleton, Colo., allegedly brought guns and pipe bombs to their high school and killed 12 fellow students and one teacher before killing themselves. Several friends reported that Harris enjoyed smashing the heads of mice with a crowbar and then lighting them on fire. The Rev. Don Marxhausen, who officiated the funeral of Klebold, said "Yes, the parents knew that the boy had firearms at their home, but the biggest gun they knew about was just to shoot the woodpeckers."

illing two classmates and injuring twenty-two others.

• Carol Edmund Cole, who murdered 35 people, admitted that his first violent act was strangling a puppy.

• Richard Allen Davis, kidnapper and murderer, doused cats with gasoline and set them on fire.

"Studies of prison inmates reveal that as many as 75 percent of violent offenders had early records of animal cruelty. There is also a high correlation between family violence and animal cruelty. A study in 1983 of New Jersey families referred to youth and family services for reasons of child abuse reported that 88 percent of cases had at least one >• Carol Edmund Cole, who murdered 35 people, admitted that his first violent act was strangling a puppy.

• Richard Allen Davis, kidnapper and murderer, doused cats with gasoline and set them on fire.

"Studies of prison inmates reveal that as many as 75 percent of violent offenders had early records of animal cruelty. There is also a high correlation between family violence and animal cruelty. A study in 1983 of New Jersey families referred to youth and family services for reasons of child abuse reported that 88 percent of cases had at least one member of the household who physically abused animals. An English researcher found that 83 percent of families reported for animal abuse also had children listed at high risk of abuse or neglect."

In my own city, I've seen one man light a firecracker and throw it for his dog to "fetch," another man beat his dog for tearing up the garbage and two small boys fling a kitten as high as they could in the air and watch it come crashing down in the street. What else might these citizens be capable of?

You can write to Rep. Wood about your feelings on his proposed member of the household who physically abused animals. An English researcher found that 83 percent of families reported for animal abuse also had children listed at high risk of abuse or neglect."

You can write to Rep. Wood about your feelings on his proposed bill at P.O. Box 219, Tupelo, AR 72169 or call him at (870) 744-2266. Or write to your representative and be heard.

There is all kinds of interesting legislature before the Arkansas 83rd General Assembly. You can check out the status of any proposal on the Internet at www.arkleg.state.ar.us.

January 10, 2001

I got old overnight. It seems I was putting along, a young reporter, and all of a sudden, I'm an old codger editor, reminiscing about the bill at P.O. Box 219, Tupelo, AR 72169 or call him at (870) 744-2266. Or write to your representative and be heard.

There is all kinds of interesting legislature before the Arkansas 83rd General Assembly. You can check out the status of any proposal on the Internet at www.arkleg.state.ar.us.

January 10, 2001

I got old overnight. It seems I was putting along, a young reporter, and all of a sudden, I'm an old codger editor, reminiscing about the things I miss from yesteryear.

At age 7, I discovered Sonny and Cher, and began to collect everything I could get my hands on that had to do with them. There were Sonny and Cher records, dolls, posters and magazines. Every trip to the grocery store, department store, mall or our neighborhood convenience store found me in the magazine section, poring over the latest Photoplay, or Rona Barrett's Gossip.

In September 1973, at age 10, I was scanning the newest crop of star mags in the Convenient close enough to ride my bike to. There, amid the movie star and things I miss from yesteryear.

In September 1973, at age 10, I was scanning the newest crop of star mags in the Convenient close enough to ride my bike to. There, amid the movie star and rock magazines, I saw one called "Tiger Beat." Shining out from the glossy cover were the faces of numerous cute boys!

There were toe-headed twins Andy and David Williams (nephews of crooner Andy Williams and featured on The Partridge Family), Donny Osmond, and someone beautiful who I had never seen before – Tony DeFranco! What a fox! I plucked down my 75 cents, plus tax, and peddled on home with the magazine in my bike basket to study up on Tony.

For those of you who don't recall, Tony was the lead singer of The DeFranco Family. The group from Ontad rock magazines, I saw one called "Tiger Beat." Shining out from the glossy cover were the faces of numerous cute boys!

For those of you who don't recall, Tony was the lead singer of The DeFranco Family. The group from Ontario, Canada, featured him and his brothers, Nino and Benny, and sisters, Merlina and Marisa. Together, they had one memorable hit, "Heartbeat, It's a Lovebeat." They put out two albums and several singles, all of which I still have.

All the way from then (fifth grade) on through high school, I got hold of every teen star magazine I could and went on to fall in love with other boys whom I'd never meet. Among them were: Brett Hudson, youngest of the Hudson Brothers, Leif Garrett (now seen as a washed up, drug-addicted, balding has-been on VH-1's Behind the Music), Scott Baio (I first saw him on an Ovaltime commercial; he later went on as Chachi on Happy Days and Charles in Charles in Charge), Tony Orlando, Freddie Prinze (comedian featured on TV's Chico and the Man, he shot himself dead in the height of his career in his early 20s), Parker Stevenson (played opposite David Cassidy's younger half-brother, Shaun Cassidy, on The Hardy Boys), Richard Hatch (not the fat, naked guy from Survivor but the babe on General Hospital, Streets of San Francisco and later on Battlestar Galactica), Robby Benson (of Ode to Billie Jo, and more recently the voice of Disney's Beast in Beauty and the Beastaltime commercial; he later went on as Chachi on Happy Days and Charles in Charles in Charge), Tony Orlando, Freddie Prinze (comedian featured on TV's Chico and the Man, he shot himself dead in the height of his career in his early 20s), Parker Stevenson (played opposite David Cassidy's younger half-brother, Shaun Cassidy, on The Hardy Boys), Richard Hatch (not the fat, naked guy from Survivor but the babe on General Hospital, Streets of San Francisco and later on Battlestar Galactica), Robby Benson (of Ode to Billie Jo, and more recently the voice of Disney's Beast in Beauty and the Beast), Wesley Eure (from the soap Days of Our Lives and Sid and Marty Krofft's Saturday morning program, Land of the Lost), John Travolta (the sweathog from Welcome Back Kotter) and on and on. . .

As I got each magazine, I'd cut out pictures of my favorites, stick them in scrapbooks, or up on my wall. Eventually I got into trouble because, when I couldn't find any cellophane tape, I used Elmer's Glue to put posters of Tony DeFranco all over my wooden closet doors. Boy, was Dad angry!

All the while I was clipping, my mother told me I ought to keep thost), Wesley Eure (from the soap Days of Our Lives and Sid and Marty Krofft's Saturday morning program, Land of the Lost), John Travolta (the sweathog from Welcome Back Kotter) and on and on. . .

All the while I was clipping, my mother told me I ought to keep those magazines in tact because they'd be worth something some day. Aw, what fun was that? Later, in the early '80s, I followed her advice as I outgrew putting up the pinups. So, I do still have some Tiger Beats from 1980-82 in good shape.

Late one recent night, I was looking at one of those Internet auction sites and stumbled onto a bunch of Tiger Beats from my prime. Cowabunga! I bid on all of them, and consequently, won most of the auctions. They've been rolling in via the U.S. Postal Service's priority mail. And what fun to look through! I can remember every word in some of those mags, and which ones contase magazines in tact because they'd be worth something some day. Aw, what fun was that? Later, in the early '80s, I followed her advice as I outgrew putting up the pinups. So, I do still have some Tiger Beats from 1980-82 in good shape.

Now, however, I'm even looking at the ads. They're hilarious. Most of them are for strictly girls' products, such as Avon's Sweet Honesty perfume and full-page comics for Pursettes tampons and QT by Coppertone ("Get a tan in the rain; QT tans sun or no sun!"). But one of the funniest I've come across (in the July 1974 Tiger Beat) is for Midol. It features a full-color picture of a hunky guy with sandy blonde feathered hair, his denim jacket thrown over his shoulder and sporting a bright colorful big-checked shirt. The copy in the ad reads, "Your Guy: Your No. 1 reason for Midained which pinups.

OK. So a teen or pre-teen girl should take this medication to make her boyfriend happy?

On that note, I'll sign off. Stay groovy!

January 3, 2001

We've all known people, possibly even ourselves, who have experienced some pretty adverse or extreme con-ditions and ordeals. Often times, if you're in one of these sitdol. Be the you he likes. Good to be around, any day of the month. Midol helps."

OK. So a teen or pre-teen girl should take this medication to make her boyfriend happy?

On that note, I'll sign off. Stay groovy!

January 3, 2001

We've all known people, possibly even ourselves, who have experienced some pretty adverse or extreme con-ditions and ordeals. Often times, if you're in one of these situations, a co-worker, friend or relative might be heard to say, "I just don't know how you do it. I don't think I could handle it." Heck, I've even had people say that about my situation – being the single mother of two rambunctious boys.

This notion is the basis for the new film, Cast Away

The reality is, we all deal with what is thrown at us. You HAVE to. I've heard it said before: God won't dump on you any more than He knows you can handle. Sometimes it seems as though He's definitely handed you more than you can stand. Yet, somehow, we always go on.

This notion is the basis for the new film, Cast Away, directed by Robert Zemeckis and starring Tom Hanks. The two last paired up to bring us Academy Award-winning Forrest Gump. I have a feeling Hanks is in for another best actor nomination. And rightly so.

On the movie's official Web site at www.castawaymovie.com, Zemeckis says, "Cast Away celebrates the idea that no matter how many obstacles are thrown in our paths, we will find ways to accept them. The story is not so much about the survival of a human being, but rather the survival of the human spirit and an illustration of the idea that surviving is easy, it's living that's difficult., directed by Robert Zemeckis and starring Tom Hanks. The two last paired up to bring us Academy Award-winning Forrest Gump. I have a feeling Hanks is in for another best actor nomination. And rightly so.

A synopsis of the film: Chuck Noland (Hanks) is a FedEx troubleshooter, whose charter flight crashes near the South Pacific, and leaves him stranded alone on an island for four years. While his fiance� (played by Helen Hunt) and co-workers assume he's dead, he must give up everything that he once took for granted and learn how to survive both physically and emotionally.

Cast Away is the type of film that will stay with you for a long while. It's that rare kind of movie that you'll be pondering, hopefully, with others who've seen it. That's the fun part. My s."

Cast Away is the type of film that will stay with you for a long while. It's that rare kind of movie that you'll be pondering, hopefully, with others who've seen it. That's the fun part. My sons and I discussed it on the way home. "What do you think the wings on that package meant?" I asked. "What do you suppose Chuck did next (after the movie ended)?" It's interesting to develop theories about the questions the movie raises. It makes you think – about your own mortality; about being human.

One irony in the film that contrasts one extreme with another is when Chuck is aboard the FedEx flight, which is experiencing turbulence. In the lavatory, he pulls a Band-Aid (visible during the beginning of the movie) off his thumb and grimaces about the injury. It's at that very moment thatsons and I discussed it on the way home. "What do you think the wings on that package meant?" I asked. "What do you suppose Chuck did next (after the movie ended)?" It's interesting to develop theories about the questions the movie raises. It makes you think – about your own mortality; about being human.

Much of the film features only Hanks, on the desolate island, with very little dialogue. It's a great lesson about the human psyche. It's interesting to watch the order in which he meets his needs. Upon washing up on the island, the first thing he does is take out his pager, full of water and sand. Secondly, a pocket watch, given to him by his fianc�e. The clock doesn't work. Time is another prevalent theme throughout Cast Away.

Right off the bat, he yells for help. Tht all hell breaks loose and he's soon to realize how tiny that problem was. Problems are relative.

Right off the bat, he yells for help. There's no one there. Next, he tries spelling out "help" in the sand. No one's going to see that. Soon, he knows he needs shelter, drink and food. Murphy's Law seems to be with Chuck throughout the film. What can go wrong does.

One thing that helps Chuck through the ordeal is his sense of humor. When he finally makes fire, he is singing the Doors' "C'mon Baby, Light My Fire." Many who are faced with grave situations will tell you later that it was humor that helped them get through.

The four years Chuck spends in isolation change him forever. When Hahere's no one there. Next, he tries spelling out "help" in the sand. No one's going to see that. Soon, he knows he needs shelter, drink and food. Murphy's Law seems to be with Chuck throughout the film. What can go wrong does.

The four years Chuck spends in isolation change him forever. When Hanks' character makes it back to civilization, Zemeckis once again shows contrast to help us realize what Chuck is dealing with. There is an excellent scene with him at the airport, where a cheering crowd outside is juxtaposed with our hero, inside in solitude behind glass doors.

Near the end of the film it's revealed to us some of what Chuck was thinking while he was surviving on that island. He tells a friend he realized he had to stay alive, had to keep breathing even though there was no reason to hope. "So I stayed alive, kept breathing and logic was proven all wrong," he says. "Tomorrow the sun wianks' character makes it back to civilization, Zemeckis once again shows contrast to help us realize what Chuck is dealing with. There is an excellent scene with him at the airport, where a cheering crowd outside is juxtaposed with our hero, inside in solitude behind glass doors.

Indeed. That's how we go on.

Decemer 27, 2000

We're about to enter the 21^st century, the third millennium. Are you ready to celebrate?

"Wait a minute," I hear a few of you out there saying. "Julie, we did that last year when we partied like it was 1999." Well, now you can do it again, because the REAL millennium isill rise, and who knows what the tide could bring."

Indeed. That's how we go on.

Decemer 27, 2000

We're about to enter the 21^st century, the third millennium. Are you ready to celebrate?

"Wait a minute," I hear a few of you out there saying. "Julie, we did that last year when we partied like it was 1999." Well, now you can do it again, because the REAL millennium is about to change.

According to the White House Millennium Council (found on the Internet at www.whitehouse.gov/Initiatives/Millennium/when.html), "every millennium is made up of 1,000 years – which means that the year 2000 belongs to the second not the third. Credit for this confusing state of affairs goes to Dennis the Diminutive, a sixth-century monk who prepared a calendar for Pope St. John I. Instead of beginning his calendar at year 0, Dennis started with 1 A.D. – bequeathing us the chronological quandary we face today.

"So what is the answs about to change.

"So what is the answer? According to the U.S. Naval Observatory, the third millennium begins on Jan. 1, 2001. Even so, most Americans and much of the world focused on the flip of the calendar from '99 to '00. White House millennium programs began in 1997 and will run through Jan. 1, 2001."

There was no year ZERO! Time and Date.com (www.timeanddate.com) says the following: "The year before 1 A.D. is defined as year 1 B.C., so year 0 was skipped. Therefore, Jan. 1, year 1 is defined to be the start of the first century and the first millennium. Because one millennium is 1,000 years, the first millennium ends with year 10wer? According to the U.S. Naval Observatory, the third millennium begins on Jan. 1, 2001. Even so, most Americans and much of the world focused on the flip of the calendar from '99 to '00. White House millennium programs began in 1997 and will run through Jan. 1, 2001."

There was no year ZERO! Time and Date.com (www.timeanddate.com) says the following: "The year before 1 A.D. is defined as year 1 B.C., so year 0 was skipped. Therefore, Jan. 1, year 1 is defined to be the start of the first century and the first millennium. Because one millennium is 1,000 years, the first millennium ends with year 1000. The next (second) Millennium starts 1,000 years after the first, that is in year 1+1000 = 1001. And the third one starts 1,000 years later than the second: 1001+1000 = 2001. The same procedure could be followed for centuries."

Are you convinced? Apparently, many in the television media are not. I heard one say on Thanksgiving Day, after a commercial in the Macy's parade, "Welcome back to the first Christmas parade of the new millennium." Wrong! Yet, you hear it everywhere. Even Sam Donaldson has been wrong. Gosh, who can we trust?

Why was there no year 000. The next (second) Millennium starts 1,000 years after the first, that is in year 1+1000 = 1001. And the third one starts 1,000 years later than the second: 1001+1000 = 2001. The same procedure could be followed for centuries."

Why was there no year zero? Here's what Time and Date says about that: "When the present system we use to count years was invented by a scholar called Dionysius Exiguus in the sixth century (and later established around Europe) they used Roman numerals which did not have zero. Therefore 1 BC is the year before AD 1, with no intervening year 0. (Sequence ... 3 BC, 2 BC, 1 BC, AD 1, AD 2, AD 3 ...)."

I wonder what the Romans called it when they ran out of money and had zero cash on hand?

Yet another Web site (located at http://philkon.tripod.com/millennium zero? Here's what Time and Date says about that: "When the present system we use to count years was invented by a scholar called Dionysius Exiguus in the sixth century (and later established around Europe) they used Roman numerals which did not have zero. Therefore 1 BC is the year before AD 1, with no intervening year 0. (Sequence ... 3 BC, 2 BC, 1 BC, AD 1, AD 2, AD 3 ...)."

I wonder what the Romans called it when they ran out of money and had zero cash on hand?

Yet another Web site (located at http://philkon.tripod.com/millennium.html) makes it easy to understand. The Webmaster writes: "Were you 1 year old the day you were born? Of course not. You did not become 1 year old until the end of your first year. The calendar is very similar with one exception; it started with the year 1. There was no year 0. Therefore, the first year has not been completed until the end of the year 1, which would be on December 31, 0001."

So, as you read this on Dec. 27, 2000, not only is it still the second millennium, it's still the 20^th century. Points out our friend at the Web site mentioned in the above paragraph, "A century is a group m.html) makes it easy to understand. The Webmaster writes: "Were you 1 year old the day you were born? Of course not. You did not become 1 year old until the end of your first year. The calendar is very similar with one exception; it started with the year 1. There was no year 0. Therefore, the first year has not been completed until the end of the year 1, which would be on December 31, 0001."

So, as you read this on Dec. 27, 2000, not only is it still the second millennium, it's still the 20^th century. Points out our friend at the Web site mentioned in the above paragraph, "A century is a group of 100 years. The century is not finished until the end of the 100th year. Therefore, the first century would have ended on December 31, 0100. The second century started on January 1, 0101." So, the 20^th century ends on Dec. 31, 2000, and the 21^st begins on Jan. 1, 2001.

Well, enough of that. No matter how you figure it, have a happy new year!

December 20, 2000

At this writing, my family has seen Jim Carrey's T of 100 years. The century is not finished until the end of the 100th year. Therefore, the first century would have ended on December 31, 0100. The second century started on January 1, 0101." So, the 20^th century ends on Dec. 31, 2000, and the 21^st begins on Jan. 1, 2001.

Well, enough of that. No matter how you figure it, have a happy new year!

December 20, 2000

At this writing, my family has seen Jim Carrey's The Grinch Who Stole Christmas three times. We plan to see it at least once more before Christmas comes.

Why? Well, for one, we're big Carrey and Dr. Seuss fans. For another, the story brings back great childhood memories for me. Memories of watching A Charlie Brown Christmas and the Chuck Jones cartoon of the Grinch. Also, I love the message of the Grinch. The moment when he realizes the holiday isn't about toys is classic.

Aren't toys what everyone remembers in their fondest childhood memories of Christmas?

The Grinch Who Stole Christmas three times. We plan to see it at least once more before Christmas comes.

Why? Well, for one, we're big Carrey and Dr. Seuss fans. For another, the story brings back great childhood memories for me. Memories of watching A Charlie Brown Christmas and the Chuck Jones cartoon of the Grinch. Also, I love the message of the Grinch. The moment when he realizes the holiday isn't about toys is classic.

Aren't toys what everyone remembers in their fondest childhood memories of Christmas?

It's like that kid in "A Christmas Story" who will die if he doesn't get a Red Ryder BB gun. For a kid, the holiday centers around toys.

As a member of the fringe generation that barely qualifies as baby boomer but can't identify with those hippies and definitely can't identify with those whiny Generation X-ers, we had some pretty classic toys in our day. So classic that some of them are making "come backs."

I'm talking about G.I. Joe, Etch a Sketch, Slinky, the Easy Bake Oven, Lite Brite, Creepy Crawlers, Lego and lots of our favorite games, su;It's like that kid in "A Christmas Story" who will die if he doesn't get a Red Ryder BB gun. For a kid, the holiday centers around toys.

I'm talking about G.I. Joe, Etch a Sketch, Slinky, the Easy Bake Oven, Lite Brite, Creepy Crawlers, Lego and lots of our favorite games, such as Battleship, Mouse Trap, Cootie, Twister, Mystery Date and more. My sons, ages almost 12 and almost 8, tell me about these toys and games like they discovered them. They think we played with rocks and chisels.

One of my earliest Christmas present memories is a troll doll. It was a huge one with lilac-colored hair and a slot in his back for coins. I had to pop off his head to get the money out. I remember calling him Uncle Harry. I don't know why.

We all got things we didn't ask for or really didn't want. Of course, we all got socks and underwear. Yipee!

After having two boys, my mother finally had a girl to buy girly stuff for. Much to her chagrin, I hated dolls and girly stuff. Every year, she got me a baby doll and then ended up playing with it.

I do remember three special dolls through the years. My mom was thrilled to death that I would want them, and so she was glad to get me Baby Secret, Mrs. Beasley and Swingy.

For you Gen-X'ers out there, Baby Secret was permanently sewn into a red set of footed pajamas, and when you pulled her string, she would whisper.

After having two boys, my mother finally had a girl to buy girly stuff for. Much to her chagrin, I hated dolls and girly stuff. Every year, she got me a baby doll and then ended up playing with it.

I do remember three special dolls through the years. My mom was thrilled to death that I would want them, and so she was glad to get me Baby Secret, Mrs. Beasley and Swingy.

For you Gen-X'ers out there, Baby Secret was permanently sewn into a red set of footed pajamas, and when you pulled her string, she would whisper.

Mrs. Beasley was probably the most famous and was Buffy's doll on the TV series "Family Affair." She was my equivalent of the Red Ryder BB gun. My brothers often made me cry by calling her Mrs. Beastly, squishing her soft plastic face into a hideous visage or hanging her from the clothesline.

Mrs. Beasley also had a string to pull to make her talk. However, my Mrs. Beasley had a problem in that she always made a sound after each thing she said that led my brothers to believe she was passing gas.

It went something like this: "My name ist face="Arial"> Mrs. Beasley was probably the most famous and was Buffy's doll on the TV series "Family Affair." She was my equivalent of the Red Ryder BB gun. My brothers often made me cry by calling her Mrs. Beastly, squishing her soft plastic face into a hideous visage or hanging her from the clothesline.

It went something like this: "My name is Mrs. Beasley, would you like to play? Phth ... phthp ... th." Or "You may try on my glasses if you wish. Phth ... phthp ... th."

The Swingy doll was a real late '60s kind of groovy chick. She didn't utter a word, but boy could she dance. She wore a white, pleated mini skirt with a yellow belt and orange and pink blouse. She had blond hair, blue eyes and dimples.

Swingy came with a 45 rpm record, made out of cardboard, that contained the Swingy theme. It went to the tune of "Wendy." You older folks will know what song I'm talking about.s Mrs. Beasley, would you like to play? Phth ... phthp ... th." Or "You may try on my glasses if you wish. Phth ... phthp ... th."

Swingy came with a 45 rpm record, made out of cardboard, that contained the Swingy theme. It went to the tune of "Wendy." You older folks will know what song I'm talking about.

Swingy took four powerful D cell batteries. She had a switch on her back. When turned on, Swingy would convulse in a combination of motions meant to be the twist or something similar. She would vibrate, swinging her arms and tromping her feet, so hard that eventually, she would fall over and appear to have a seizure. All to the tune of "Wendy."

Then there are those gifts that you really wanted, but couldn't figure out how to use once you got them. This almost became true with a unicycle.

We borrowed a friend's and he let me>

Then there are those gifts that you really wanted, but couldn't figure out how to use once you got them. This almost became true with a unicycle.

We borrowed a friend's and he let me try it for a month. I never did get the hang of it. Heck, my dad even tried it, and that's the only time in my life I ever remember seeing my dad fall.

The next year, I got the pogo stick I had asked for. This time, I got on that thing and really took off. My best friend had gotten one too, and we went around the neighborhood on those things.

Other favorites include Lincoln Logs. One Christmas (the same one that I got Uncle Harry) my brother Mike got some Lincoln Logs. They came in a cardboard, tubular container with a metal lid.

&nbse try it for a month. I never did get the hang of it. Heck, my dad even tried it, and that's the only time in my life I ever remember seeing my dad fall.

The next year, I got the pogo stick I had asked for. This time, I got on that thing and really took off. My best friend had gotten one too, and we went around the neighborhood on those things.

Other favorites include Lincoln Logs. One Christmas (the same one that I got Uncle Harry) my brother Mike got some Lincoln Logs. They came in a cardboard, tubular container with a metal lid.

Mike couldn't twist off the lid and neither could anyone else in the family, including Dad. He got so frustrated with it, he pried it off with a screwdriver or some other tool and rendered it useless.

I hope your Christmas this year brings you plenty of fun memories, along with plenty of TOYS!

Julie M. Fidler is editor of the Arkansas Weekly and news director for WRD Entertainment Inc. She may be reached by e-mail at [email protected]

December sp; Mike couldn't twist off the lid and neither could anyone else in the family, including Dad. He got so frustrated with it, he pried it off with a screwdriver or some other tool and rendered it useless.

I hope your Christmas this year brings you plenty of fun memories, along with plenty of TOYS!

Julie M. Fidler is editor of the Arkansas Weekly and news director for WRD Entertainment Inc. She may be reached by e-mail at [email protected]

December 13, 2000

Kids and cooking. That's a combination that can either be fun or a nightmare. I've opened the door by letting the boys help me in the kitchen a time or two. Now, if I don't want help, I have to be sneaky about it because every time I start cooking dinner or something, both of them show up. "Can I crack the eggs?" "Can I stir that?" "Can I lick the bowl?"

I can't really blame them. By the time I was seven I was "helping" my mom in the kitchen. It all goes back to the Peanuts Cook Book. When I was in grade 13, 2000

Kids and cooking. That's a combination that can either be fun or a nightmare. I've opened the door by letting the boys help me in the kitchen a time or two. Now, if I don't want help, I have to be sneaky about it because every time I start cooking dinner or something, both of them show up. "Can I crack the eggs?" "Can I stir that?" "Can I lick the bowl?"

I can't really blame them. By the time I was seven I was "helping" my mom in the kitchen. It all goes back to the Peanuts Cook Book. When I was in grade school, we used to order books from Scholastic like most kids. My brother, Mike, and I would always be sure to order anything that had to do with Charles Schulz' Peanuts. A couple of years later, when I joined 4-H, I took a cooking class and a love of cooking and baking grew.

Over the years, we made most of the recipes in the Peanuts Cook Book. I'm sure it was my brother's book, and now its whereabouts are unknown. The recipes within the book, published in 1969 or 1970, included Great Pumpkin Cookies, Franklin's Jam Tarts, Lucy's Lemon Squares, Red Baron Root Beer and Happiness is a Hot Cheese-Tomato Sandwich. I kne school, we used to order books from Scholastic like most kids. My brother, Mike, and I would always be sure to order anything that had to do with Charles Schulz' Peanuts. A couple of years later, when I joined 4-H, I took a cooking class and a love of cooking and baking grew.

Over the years, we made most of the recipes in the Peanuts Cook Book. I'm sure it was my brother's book, and now its whereabouts are unknown. The recipes within the book, published in 1969 or 1970, included Great Pumpkin Cookies, Franklin's Jam Tarts, Lucy's Lemon Squares, Red Baron Root Beer and Happiness is a Hot Cheese-Tomato Sandwich. I know for a fact we did not whip up Peppermint Patty's Prune Whip. The book also had some really funny Peanuts comic strips having to do with cooking.

I have great memories of working with Mom and Mike in the kitchen before Mike became more interested in cars and moved on to the garage to learn everything he could about car repair from our dad.

In one of my columns back in September, I mentioned how I enjoy pumpkin recipes. The column resulted in an e-mail with a great recipe from a reader and a holiday cookbook from Arkansas Weekly columnist Duffie Bryant. But the real surnow for a fact we did not whip up Peppermint Patty's Prune Whip. The book also had some really funny Peanuts comic strips having to do with cooking.

I have great memories of working with Mom and Mike in the kitchen before Mike became more interested in cars and moved on to the garage to learn everything he could about car repair from our dad.

Our receptionist, Leslie, came to the newsroom and said there was a couple who wished to see me, and they knew who I was on sight (the radio newsroom and control rooms are like working in a fish bowl). Ends up, they recognized me from that ugly picture we were running with the column.

When they first entered the newsroom, the woman said she had something for me, and reached into her black purse. The thought that flashed in my mind was someone who hates my work and who would take out a pistol and, well, you get the idea. Au contraire! Bill and Debbie Paxton of Franklin had a copy of the Peanuts Cook Book they wished to give me. How nice is that? When she read that earlier column, Mrs. Paxton recognized the book from my description and remembered she had a copy.

The boys and I will be trying our hand at some of the Great Pumpkin Cookies soon. Here is that recipe, thanks to the Paxtons:

Great Pumpkin Cookies

One and a half cups brown sugar, packed

One-half cup shortening

2 eggs

1 lb. Can pum Paxton of Franklin had a copy of the Peanuts Cook Book they wished to give me. How nice is that? When she read that earlier column, Mrs. Paxton recognized the book from my description and remembered she had a copy.

The boys and I will be trying our hand at some of the Great Pumpkin Cookies soon. Here is that recipe, thanks to the Paxtons:

Great Pumpkin Cookies

One and a half cups brown sugar, packed

One-half cup shortening

2 eggs

1 lb. Can pumpkin

Two and three-fourths cups flour, sifted

1 tablespoon baking powder

1 teaspoon cinnamon

one-half teaspoon nutmeg

one-half teaspoon salt

one-fourth teaspoon ginger

1 cup raisins

1 cup pecans, chopped

(Mike and I never included the raisins or pecans.) Pre-heat oven to 400. Mix sugar, shortening, eggs and pumpkin thoroughly in a large bowl. Simpkin

Two and three-fourths cups flour, sifted

1 tablespoon baking powder

1 teaspoon cinnamon

one-half teaspoon nutmeg

one-half teaspoon salt

one-fourth teaspoon ginger

1 cup raisins

1 cup pecans, chopped

(Mike and I never included the raisins or pecans.) Pre-heat oven to 400. Mix sugar, shortening, eggs and pumpkin thoroughly in a large bowl. Sift dry ingredients and add to pumpkin mixture. Blend well. Add raisins and pecans. Drop batter by teaspoonsful on ungreased baking sheets. Bake 12 to 15 minutes or until lightly browned. Remove from oven, and lift off with a pancake turner. Makes about six dozen. A delicious snack while you're waiting for the "Great Pumpkin."

As for kids and recipes, we got some pretty interesting ones for holiday turkey from Cindy Perkey's third-grade class at Cushman Elementary School. They're a real hoot, and you'll find some of them in this edition of the Weekly. Enjoy reading them, but I wouldn't advise trying to cook mosift dry ingredients and add to pumpkin mixture. Blend well. Add raisins and pecans. Drop batter by teaspoonsful on ungreased baking sheets. Bake 12 to 15 minutes or until lightly browned. Remove from oven, and lift off with a pancake turner. Makes about six dozen. A delicious snack while you're waiting for the "Great Pumpkin."

Happy cooking!

Julie M. Fidler is editor of the Arkansas Weekly and news director for WRD Entertainment Inc. She may be reached by e-mail at [email protected]

November 15, 2000

Just a little over a week until Thanksgiving! We got nearly 80 recipes from all of you through our contest with Westside Grocery in Batesville.

This week, we'll rst.

Happy cooking!

Julie M. Fidler is editor of the Arkansas Weekly and news director for WRD Entertainment Inc. She may be reached by e-mail at [email protected]

November 15, 2000

Just a little over a week until Thanksgiving! We got nearly 80 recipes from all of you through our contest with Westside Grocery in Batesville.

This week, we'll run about half of them, and next week, we'll run the rest. Thanks to all of you who took the time to share your recipes with us. I know I'll be trying more than one, for sure!

We'll announce the winners of our contest in next week's Arkansas Weekly

November 8, 2000

Beware of drawstring trash bags. An encounter with a drawstring trash bag landed me in the emergency room last week. This could only happen to me.

We'll announce the winners of our contest in next week's Arkansas Weekly

November 8, 2000

Beware of drawstring trash bags. An encounter with a drawstring trash bag landed me in the emergency room last week. This could only happen to me.

It was my day off. I'd gotten the boys up for school and was changing the litter box. The cheapo version of the Hefty lay unassuming in the middle of the hallway. My oldest son bustled around me.

I only remember stepping away from the litter box and getting my foot caught in the drawstring. The rest is a blur. Oh, yeah, I do remember cursing loudly. The next thing I remember, both boys were near by. They know to call 9-1-1 if I don't answer them.

The pain in my shoulder was enough to make a super mom cry. I managed to drive the boys to their schools, ev"Arial"> It was my day off. I'd gotten the boys up for school and was changing the litter box. The cheapo version of the Hefty lay unassuming in the middle of the hallway. My oldest son bustled around me.

The pain in my shoulder was enough to make a super mom cry. I managed to drive the boys to their schools, even though I couldn't turn my head. At each intersection, I would ask them, "Any cars coming?"

My mom and dad were coming over from Mountain View so that Mom could help me work on a homemade Harry Potter costume for the oldest boy and Dad could see what was making my satellite dish go off for hours at a time (it ended up a dog had chewed the cable under my porch between the dish and the house).

When the folks got here, they saw I was in great pain. I had already taken some cheapo ibuprofen. That didn't work, so I'd moved on to the cheapo aspirin (we don't have anven though I couldn't turn my head. At each intersection, I would ask them, "Any cars coming?"

When the folks got here, they saw I was in great pain. I had already taken some cheapo ibuprofen. That didn't work, so I'd moved on to the cheapo aspirin (we don't have any name-brand consumables in our home). Nothing helped.

The folks had brought some Ben-Gay. In the bathroom, I removed my shirt so Mom could smear the stuff on. After seeing my shoulder and wing, she disappeared. I heard her whispering to my father in the front room. Next, he came in to have a look. "It's all swollen up, Sis," Dad said.

The two of them decided I should go to the emergency room. Well, it hurt badly enough. I called my family doctor, and described my situation to the nurse there. She said, if there was swelling, there could be a fracture. I called the ny name-brand consumables in our home). Nothing helped.

The two of them decided I should go to the emergency room. Well, it hurt badly enough. I called my family doctor, and described my situation to the nurse there. She said, if there was swelling, there could be a fracture. I called the eye doctor and canceled the boys' afternoon appointment, and the folks brought me to the ER at White River Medical Center.

Upon seeing me, the triage nurse observed the hurt shoulder was hanging lower than the good one. She gave me a sling and told me there would be a very long wait. Well, long story short – nothing was broken. The doc came in, harried because there were people there with REAL injuries, told me nothing showed up broken in the X-ray, held my arm up over my head and moved it around, and declared me fine. One day off lost. Ouch.

* * *

eye doctor and canceled the boys' afternoon appointment, and the folks brought me to the ER at White River Medical Center.

* * *

I want to be sure to thank all of you great cooks out there who entered our Warmth of Home holiday recipe contest. We'll be running your recipes beginning next week in the Arkansas Weekly. We'll announce the winners soon.

Speaking of Thanksgiving, we'd like to run children's recipes and some holiday drawings in the Weekly. Ask your kindergarten through fourth-grader "How would you prepare a Thanksgiving or Christmas turkey?" and then write it down or, if they're old enough, have them write it themselves, and we'll run them as space permits th

* * *

Two notes on correspondence from readers: One call came from Roger Jones of Newport who objected to the picture we ran of the Mary Woods on last week's cover. He said it was taken before the tornado and that we need to run one of the way the boat looks now. See, Mr. Jones spent a year working on the restoration of the boat and says it looks nothing like the picture we ran. That picture was provided to use by the Arkansas Department of Parks and Tourism. I shall personally get over to Jacksonport and snap a newhrough the holidays. It'll be fun!

* * *

An e-mail came from a 22-year-old psychology major. He simply wrote to me: "Please put your old picture back in your column." I guess it bothers his eyes to see the picture taken by a fellow Weekly staff member a few weeks back rather than the Glamour Shot from 1996. OK, I wasn't wearing any makeup, but that e-mail hurt. So, I am completely removing my picture from this column to spare everyone from looking at my ugly mug. If this makes you happy, please refw picture for future publication, and I invite everyone to check out the beautiful ship for themselves. Thanks for pointing this out, Mr. Jones!

An e-mail came from a 22-year-old psychology major. He simply wrote to me: "Please put your old picture back in your column." I guess it bothers his eyes to see the picture taken by a fellow Weekly staff member a few weeks back rather than the Glamour Shot from 1996. OK, I wasn't wearing any makeup, but that e-mail hurt. So, I am completely removing my picture from this column to spare everyone from looking at my ugly mug. If this makes you happy, please refrain from e-mailing to tell me so. I've already had my ego bruised enough for one week.

Julie M. Fidler is news director for WRD Entertainment and editor of the Arkansas Weekly. She can be contacted by e-mail at [email protected].

November 1, 2000

If you're in the Newport area, welcome to the Arkansas Weekly!

We've been delivering the Weekly to a few places in Newpfrain from e-mailing to tell me so. I've already had my ego bruised enough for one week.

Julie M. Fidler is news director for WRD Entertainment and editor of the Arkansas Weekly. She can be contacted by e-mail at [email protected].

November 1, 2000

If you're in the Newport area, welcome to the Arkansas Weekly!

We've been delivering the Weekly to a few places in Newport in the past, but as of last week, we began direct mailing the paper and the Kroger inserts to folks from the Newport Post Office.

If you're not getting your Weekly in the mail, or know someone else in the Newport area who's missing it, get hold of us at (870) 793-4196.

We also hope to do some feature and interesting articles about the Newport and Jackson County areas. But we can't do them if we don't know about them. So, if you know of something or someone interesting who'd make a good story for the Arkansas Weekly; or you know of something that'd be a great picturport in the past, but as of last week, we began direct mailing the paper and the Kroger inserts to folks from the Newport Post Office.

If you're not getting your Weekly in the mail, or know someone else in the Newport area who's missing it, get hold of us at (870) 793-4196.

We also hope to do some feature and interesting articles about the Newport and Jackson County areas. But we can't do them if we don't know about them. So, if you know of something or someone interesting who'd make a good story for the Arkansas Weekly; or you know of something that'd be a great picture, give me a call at the number above or e-mail me at [email protected].

And, as always, if you have any story ideas, please feel free to get hold of me in the same way.

Julie M. Fidler is editor of the Arkansas Weekly and news director for WRD Entertainment.

October 25, 2000

It's the week before Halloween and that makes me think of ghosts, pumpkins and outhouse races.

re, give me a call at the number above or e-mail me at [email protected].

And, as always, if you have any story ideas, please feel free to get hold of me in the same way.

Julie M. Fidler is editor of the Arkansas Weekly and news director for WRD Entertainment.

October 25, 2000

It's the week before Halloween and that makes me think of ghosts, pumpkins and outhouse races.

One of my family's favorite things to do is watch "Haunted History" on the History Channel. They always have some great stories about haunted battlefields, hotels, cemeteries and homes all around the nation. A particular favorite featured New Orleans.

I'm hoping the History Channel will bring its crew to Eureka Springs sometime where we have our state's own haunted Crescent Hotel.

In this issue of the Arkansas Weekly, we're sharing with you some ghost stories from around the state. I thought I'd tell you a bit here about the Crescent.

I'm hoping the History Channel will bring its crew to Eureka Springs sometime where we have our state's own haunted Crescent Hotel.

In this issue of the Arkansas Weekly, we're sharing with you some ghost stories from around the state. I thought I'd tell you a bit here about the Crescent.

The information below comes from travel writer Jill M. Rohrbach with the Arkansas Department of Parks and Tourism.

Dani Wilson, Carroll Heath and Ken Fugate are co-owners of The Eureka Springsghost Tours. Three tours are offered: the Historic Haunted Mansions Tour, the Eureka Springs Historic Cemetery Tour and the Crescent Hotel Tour.

The information below comes from travel writer Jill M. Rohrbach with the Arkansas Department of Parks and Tourism.

The most popular tour, of course, is the tour of the legendary Crescent, constructed in 1886. Not only do tourists learn about secret underground passages, they also receive a special treat of visiting the basement room that was once the morgue. It still contains an old autopsy table. That room was part of perhaps the strangest chapter in the Crescent's history from 1937-39, when Norman Baker of Iowa bought the hotel and converted it into his third cancer facility, naming it the Baker Hospital of Eureka Springs.

The business owners keep a database of haunted activity. For example, if someone tells them they saw a ghost in Room 305, the info is put into the database. When the same story is told numerous times by different people, the tour guides do a formal investigation.

the basement room that was once the morgue. It still contains an old autopsy table. That room was part of perhaps the strangest chapter in the Crescent's history from 1937-39, when Norman Baker of Iowa bought the hotel and converted it into his third cancer facility, naming it the Baker Hospital of Eureka Springs.

This way, the only ghost stories told by the guides are those with experiential evidence that have also been checked by the trio.

The guides have also had numerous experiences of their own within the walls of the historic hotel. Fugate did the decorative stenciling in the hotel, which was recently refurbished. In a guest room, Fugate was stenciling high up on the wall when he heard an old lady's voice right next to his ear say, "Oh that's very nice. Thank you." He turned around to see who was talking to him, but no one was there. The small voice then said her name was Theodora and asked his name. Fugate ; This way, the only ghost stories told by the guides are those with experiential evidence that have also been checked by the trio.

The guides have also had numerous experiences of their own within the walls of the historic hotel. Fugate did the decorative stenciling in the hotel, which was recently refurbished. In a guest room, Fugate was stenciling high up on the wall when he heard an old lady's voice right next to his ear say, "Oh that's very nice. Thank you." He turned around to see who was talking to him, but no one was there. The small voice then said her name was Theodora and asked his name. Fugate says Theodora told him the room was nice, but not as nice as when she lived in it.

Probably the most well-known ghost is Michael, a stonecutter who helped build the hotel. He fell to his death at the location of Room 218, now the most requested room in the hotel. He's said to have been a good-looking man who often got in trouble for flirting with the ladies. Michael is still known for turning his attention and tricks to women guests.

Dr. John Freemont Ellis was the hotel physician during the Victorian Era. Dressed in top hat and fine clothing, he is sometimes seen on the says Theodora told him the room was nice, but not as nice as when she lived in it.

Dr. John Freemont Ellis was the hotel physician during the Victorian Era. Dressed in top hat and fine clothing, he is sometimes seen on the staircase from the second floor to the lobby. Heath says the smoke from Ellis' tobacco pipe is sometimes smelled near the elevator.

Ellis even showed up on one couple's videotape. When slowed down, frame by frame, a blur on the tape in the lobby turns out to be a proper Victorian man in a tall top hat.

For cost and tour schedule information, you can call (501) 253-6800 or visit http://www.eureka-springs-ghost.com on the Internet.

* * *

&nbs staircase from the second floor to the lobby. Heath says the smoke from Ellis' tobacco pipe is sometimes smelled near the elevator.

Ellis even showed up on one couple's videotape. When slowed down, frame by frame, a blur on the tape in the lobby turns out to be a proper Victorian man in a tall top hat.

For cost and tour schedule information, you can call (501) 253-6800 or visit http://www.eureka-springs-ghost.com on the Internet.

* * *

And about those outhouses ….. The 18^th annual Bean Fest and Arkansas Championship Outhouse Race is coming this weekend in Mountain View. It's a sight to behold. If you've never seen the outhouse races, you're in for a treat.

The Bean Fest gets under way at 11 a.m. with outhouse registration and judging of beans and cornbread. The parade of outhouses on the courthouse square begins at 1 p.m., and the race starts at 2 p.m.

KWOZ will have a talent contest following the races.

Julie M. Fidler is editor of the Arkansas sp;And about those outhouses ….. The 18^th annual Bean Fest and Arkansas Championship Outhouse Race is coming this weekend in Mountain View. It's a sight to behold. If you've never seen the outhouse races, you're in for a treat.

The Bean Fest gets under way at 11 a.m. with outhouse registration and judging of beans and cornbread. The parade of outhouses on the courthouse square begins at 1 p.m., and the race starts at 2 p.m.

KWOZ will have a talent contest following the races.

Julie M. Fidler is editor of the Arkansas Weekly and news director for W.R.D. Entertainment, Inc

October 18, 2000

How much can one person in her mid 30s deteriorate in just three or four years?

If you're me, apparently quite a lot.

You may have noticed a different picture of me running with this column. Or, perhaps you thought someone else was writing "Inside View" this week.

&n Weekly and news director for W.R.D. Entertainment, Inc

October 18, 2000

How much can one person in her mid 30s deteriorate in just three or four years?

If you're me, apparently quite a lot.

You may have noticed a different picture of me running with this column. Or, perhaps you thought someone else was writing "Inside View" this week.

I've had several real blows to my self-esteem recently over the picture that previously ran with my column. The one you see now was taken the day on which this column was written. The previous one was taken just before Thanksgiving 1996. It is one of those "glamour-type" photos. You know, you go into a place at the mall, they pile enough makeup on you to gag you, foof your hair up in some unnatural manner, dress you in some sequins or rhinestones and shoot you with a blurry filter on the lens.

The picture you see here was taken by a co-worker with my digital camera. No makeup, no foof, no sequins.

While I was covering a city council meeting not long ago for the radio stations, one of the aldermen flat out asked me, "How old is that picture?" Gee thanks.

Then, this past weekend, while I was in Wal-Mart, a nice lady came up to me and said "Who is that pretty young girl pictured with your column?"

"Uh," I answered.

"That was taken WAY back," she said.

"It was a few years agnt>

While I was covering a city council meeting not long ago for the radio stations, one of the aldermen flat out asked me, "How old is that picture?" Gee thanks.

Then, this past weekend, while I was in Wal-Mart, a nice lady came up to me and said "Who is that pretty young girl pictured with your column?"

"Uh," I answered.

"That was taken WAY back," she said.

"It was a few years ago," I muttered. Gee thanks.

One man e-mailed me after reading one of my columns. "You're beautiful," he wrote.

"I clean up pretty well," I wrote back. Thanks.

Always a tomboy, I never have enjoyed getting all dolled up. But, now, after dealing with the depression that sat in over not looking in daily life like my Glamour Shot, I'm starting a diet and getting into an exercise routine. Twenty pounds later, I'll get another foofy-hair picture taken and wait for your response.

One man e-mailed me after reading one of my columns. "You're beautiful," he wrote.

"I clean up pretty well," I wrote back. Thanks.

* * *

October is a significant month for women. It's Breast Cancer Awareness month and Domestic Violence Awareness Month.

My mother is a breast cancer survivor. I can't stress how important it is to get regular mammograms. Fun, they're not – but crucial, they are. If Mom would've had one sooner, she wouldn't have had a mastectomy, no doubt. Early detection saves lives. If you're over 40, or if your family has a history of breast cancer, do yourself and your family a favor and make an appointment today to have a mammogracenter">* * *

October is a significant month for women. It's Breast Cancer Awareness month and Domestic Violence Awareness Month.

Some facts:

It is estimated that 400 Arkansas women will die each year as a result of breast cancer.

One in eight women in the state will develop breast cancer over their lifetimes.

One-third of the deaths from breast cancer can be prevented with regular screening and early detection.

You may qualify for a free mammogram. You can call the Arkansas Department of Health's Breastcare line at 1-877-670-CARE. You are elam or X-ray of the breast.

Some facts:

It is estimated that 400 Arkansas women will die each year as a result of breast cancer.

One in eight women in the state will develop breast cancer over their lifetimes.

One-third of the deaths from breast cancer can be prevented with regular screening and early detection.

You may qualify for a free mammogram. You can call the Arkansas Department of Health's Breastcare line at 1-877-670-CARE. You are eligible if you are at least 40, uninsured or have an income at or below 200 percent of the federal poverty level.

Did you know that Arkansas is the only state in which domestic violence receives no state funding?

Some facts:

Fifty percent of all women in the U.S. will be victims of domestic violence.

Fifteen-hundred women are murdered by husbands or boyfriends each year.

Four million to six million women are beaten each year by theirligible if you are at least 40, uninsured or have an income at or below 200 percent of the federal poverty level.

Did you know that Arkansas is the only state in which domestic violence receives no state funding?

Some facts:

Fifty percent of all women in the U.S. will be victims of domestic violence.

Fifteen-hundred women are murdered by husbands or boyfriends each year.

Four million to six million women are beaten each year by their husbands or boyfriends.

At least one-third of all visits by women to emergency medical services are caused by battering.

Federal funding had been available through the Violence Against Women Act. Sen. Blanche Lincoln, a Democrat from Arkansas, is calling on Congress to reauthorize the bill, which funds state and local programs to help women victims of violence and abuse.

Since the federal act was first implemented in 1994, Arkansas received almost $16 million in resources to combat violence against women and to treat victir husbands or boyfriends.

At least one-third of all visits by women to emergency medical services are caused by battering.

Since the federal act was first implemented in 1994, Arkansas received almost $16 million in resources to combat violence against women and to treat victims. The act expired Sept. 30. While the House of Representatives recently voted to continue to support the act's programs, the Senate has yet to act. Senate leadership has refused to allow a vote on the legislation.

Please contact your local, state and federal representatives and voice your concerns.

Julie M. Fidler is editor of the Arkansas Weekly and news director for WRD Entertainment, Inc. She may be reached by e-mail at [email protected].

October ims. The act expired Sept. 30. While the House of Representatives recently voted to continue to support the act's programs, the Senate has yet to act. Senate leadership has refused to allow a vote on the legislation.

Please contact your local, state and federal representatives and voice your concerns.

Julie M. Fidler is editor of the Arkansas Weekly and news director for WRD Entertainment, Inc. She may be reached by e-mail at [email protected].

October 11, 2000

I want to remind you of the Arkansas Weekly's free classified ad service. It's no secret these ads get results, and they cost you nothing. I put in an ad to find a good home for my bassett hound, and I got 15 different calls by bedtime the Wednesday the ad was published!

You'll find a classified form in this edition, or you can get one at our offices on Harrison Street behind the Subway in Batesville. Fill it out, and you get 20 words or less for free. You can't beat that with a stick!

11, 2000

I want to remind you of the Arkansas Weekly's free classified ad service. It's no secret these ads get results, and they cost you nothing. I put in an ad to find a good home for my bassett hound, and I got 15 different calls by bedtime the Wednesday the ad was published!

  You'll find a classified form in this edition, or you can get one at our offices on Harrison Street behind the Subway in Batesville. Fill it out, and you get 20 words or less for free. You can't beat that with a stick!

* * *

  Am I the only one excited about a new fall TV season? Granted, it may not be much of a season, but when fall is in the air, I look forward to something new to on TV.

  It looks like we might get a bit of a break from the reality TV and reruns we suffered through this summer.

  According to my handy dandy fall preview issues of TV Guide, there are several worthwhile shows returning, some of which have already had their season premiere by publication time.

  >* * *

Am I the only one excited about a new fall TV season? Granted, it may not be much of a season, but when fall is in the air, I look forward to something new to on TV.

It looks like we might get a bit of a break from the reality TV and reruns we suffered through this summer.

According to my handy dandy fall preview issues of TV Guide, there are several worthwhile shows returning, some of which have already had their season premiere by publication time.

Many of the shows on the Fox network won't begin their new seasons until next month. I'm looking forward to the return of "Malcolm in the Middle" on Nov. 5 at 7:30 p.m. If you have a sense of humor and a family, I recommend it. I get a big kick out of mother, Lois, who has four sons and an immature husband to deal with. Jane Kaczmarek was up for best actress in a comedy series for this one, but didn't win the Emmy. Last season's finale featuring Bea Arthur (good ol' Maude) as a babysitter who died while watching Dewey, left us wondering where Dewey wandered off to.

Also worth watching and returning on Sunday p;Many of the shows on the Fox network won't begin their new seasons until next month. I'm looking forward to the return of "Malcolm in the Middle" on Nov. 5 at 7:30 p.m. If you have a sense of humor and a family, I recommend it. I get a big kick out of mother, Lois, who has four sons and an immature husband to deal with. Jane Kaczmarek was up for best actress in a comedy series for this one, but didn't win the Emmy. Last season's finale featuring Bea Arthur (good ol' Maude) as a babysitter who died while watching Dewey, left us wondering where Dewey wandered off to.

Also worth watching and returning on Sunday nights on Fox are "Futurama" (Nov. 5 at 6 p.m.), "King of the Hill" (Nov. 5 at 6:30 p.m.), the twelfth season of "The Simpsons" (Nov. 5 at 7 p.m.), and "The X-Files," mostly minus David Duchovny (Nov. 5 at 8 p.m.).

Also returning on Sunday nights and worth watching is the Emmy-winning "The Practice" on ABC at 9 p.m.

"Everybody Loves Raymond" made its season debut on CBS last week with a 1-hour special. The show is quite funny and airs at 8 p.m. every Monday.

Another one of my favorite sit nights on Fox are "Futurama" (Nov. 5 at 6 p.m.), "King of the Hill" (Nov. 5 at 6:30 p.m.), the twelfth season of "The Simpsons" (Nov. 5 at 7 p.m.), and "The X-Files," mostly minus David Duchovny (Nov. 5 at 8 p.m.).

Also returning on Sunday nights and worth watching is the Emmy-winning "The Practice" on ABC at 9 p.m.

"Everybody Loves Raymond" made its season debut on CBS last week with a 1-hour special. The show is quite funny and airs at 8 p.m. every Monday.

Another one of my favorite sitcoms, "That '70s Show," had its season premiere last week too. It airs at 7 p.m. on Fox on Tuesdays.

Also worth watching and returning on Tuesdays is "Third Rock From the Sun" (Oct. 24 on NBC). My favorite Monday night drama, "Once and Again," is moving to Tuesday nights this month still on ABC.

I'll look forward to "The Drew Carey Show" returning this month at 8 p.m. on Wednesdays on ABC.

"ER" begins a new season in its old time slot at 9 p.m. Thursdays on NBC tomorrow night, Otcoms, "That '70s Show," had its season premiere last week too. It airs at 7 p.m. on Fox on Tuesdays.

Also worth watching and returning on Tuesdays is "Third Rock From the Sun" (Oct. 24 on NBC). My favorite Monday night drama, "Once and Again," is moving to Tuesday nights this month still on ABC.

I'll look forward to "The Drew Carey Show" returning this month at 8 p.m. on Wednesdays on ABC.

"ER" begins a new season in its old time slot at 9 p.m. Thursdays on NBC tomorrow night, Oct. 12. Dr. Carter will return to the E.R. where he faces supportive, and some not-so-supportive, colleagues after his treatment for drug addiction, according to TV Guide.

As far as the new shows go, what do we have to look forward to? Well, I've been hearing a lot about "Ed," which will have premiered by the time you read this. It's on at 7 p.m. Sundays on NBC. It's being compared to "Northern Exposure," which was fun and quirky. Critics are afraid it may go the way of NBC's "Freaks and Geeks," an endearing and intriguing comedy/drama that NBC abused last year by moving it all oOct. 12. Dr. Carter will return to the E.R. where he faces supportive, and some not-so-supportive, colleagues after his treatment for drug addiction, according to TV Guide.

As far as the new shows go, what do we have to look forward to? Well, I've been hearing a lot about "Ed," which will have premiered by the time you read this. It's on at 7 p.m. Sundays on NBC. It's being compared to "Northern Exposure," which was fun and quirky. Critics are afraid it may go the way of NBC's "Freaks and Geeks," an endearing and intriguing comedy/drama that NBC abused last year by moving it all over the schedule and finally canceling it without airing all of the episodes.

A promising show from "Ally McBeal" and "The Practice's" David E. Kelley is "Boston Public." The show premieres Oct. 23 at 7 p.m. on Fox. According to TV Guide, it is about "the public high school, where students and parents constantly clash with the embattled, overworked, underpaid teachers. Bucking the youth trend, this ensemble drama focuses not on the kids but on the educators, led by principal Steven Harper."

Another new show that might be wortover the schedule and finally canceling it without airing all of the episodes.

Another new show that might be worth watching premiered last week. It's "Dark Angel" at 8 p.m. Tuesdays on Fox. TV Guide picks it as "The most promising and exciting of this season's many murky attempts at dark adventure-fantasy, 'Dark Angel' boasts a strong narrative hook and a stunning heroine."

I'm anxious to check out "The Michael Richards Show," beginning at 7 p.m. Oct. 24 on NBC. I've followed Richards' career since he was on ABC's "Saturday Night Live" ripoff "Fridays" in the late '70s and early '80s. He's a very funny guy, but whether his new show will be any good remains a mystery.th watching premiered last week. It's "Dark Angel" at 8 p.m. Tuesdays on Fox. TV Guide picks it as "The most promising and exciting of this season's many murky attempts at dark adventure-fantasy, 'Dark Angel' boasts a strong narrative hook and a stunning heroine."

Wednesday nights could prove interesting with a new sitcom featuring Bette Midler. It premieres tonight at 7 on CBS. Then, at 7:30 on Fox, premiering Nov. 1, John Goodman makes his television comeback with "Normal, Ohio." Goodman plays a gay father from a small town who returns after four years of "self-discovery" in Los Angeles.

On Thursdays, it looks like "Gilmore Girls" at 7 p.m. on WB might be decent. It's about a single mom and her daughter, who is just 16 years her junior. It premiered last week.<. It's had some pre-production problems.

On Thursdays, it looks like "Gilmore Girls" at 7 p.m. on WB might be decent. It's about a single mom and her daughter, who is just 16 years her junior. It premiered last week.

On Fridays, I plan to check out the new version of the 1960s series, "The Fugitive," at 7 p.m. on CBS. It premiered last week also. I also plan to tune in to "Freakylinks" at 8 p.m. on Fox.

That gives us plenty to look at. Let me know what you find best in the new TV season.

Julie M. Fidler is editor of the ArkansasWeekly and news director for WRD Entertainment

October 4, 2000

  On Fridays, I plan to check out the new version of the 1960s series, "The Fugitive," at 7 p.m. on CBS. It premiered last week also. I also plan to tune in to "Freakylinks" at 8 p.m. on Fox.

  That gives us plenty to look at. Let me know what you find best in the new TV season.

  Julie M. Fidler is editor of the ArkansasWeekly and news director for WRD Entertainment

October 4, 2000

Cookin' with natural gas. This winter, we might be better off cooking over an open flame.

  The Public Service Commission in Little Rock is telling gas consumers of the significant price increases expected for this winter's gas bills.

  The commission's chairman, Sandra L. Hochstetter, has a few recommendations:

•  Consider signing up for your gas utility's levelized billing program.

• Weatherize your home if necessary.

Cookin' with natural gas. This winter, we might be better off cooking over an open flame.

The Public Service Commission in Little Rock is telling gas consumers of the significant price increases expected for this winter's gas bills.

The commission's chairman, Sandra L. Hochstetter, has a few recommendations:

• Consider signing up for your gas utility's levelized billing program.

• Weatherize your home if necessary.

• Consider using less gas through engaging in conservation efforts at your home and/or business.

Here's what the Public Service Commission's utilities division says: The wholesale market price of natural gas has been increasing to near-record levels over the past several months. Distribution companies (the natural gas companies that deliver natural gas to your home or business) are having to pay these higher natural gas prices. In turn, your natural gas bill has or will increase to cover these costs, and may be two to three times higher than last winter's bills.

• Consider using less gas through engaging in conservation efforts at your home and/or business.

While there's no one reason why natural gas prices are going up, the commission says there are a number of factors affecting natural gas prices. The economy is growing and natural gas is fueling much of that growth. Also, natural gas has become the fuel of choice for new electric generation plants being constructed across the country. In short, the demand for natural gas is currently greater than supply. As with other commodities, the price of natural gas is responding to market conditions.

While President Clinton has approved dipping into the nation's oil reserves, we have no idep>

While President Clinton has approved dipping into the nation's oil reserves, we have no idea how much that might help our bills this winter. If you'd like to learn more about this situation and what you can do to help your pocket book, read the article in this issue of the Arkansas Weekly and visit the Arkansas Public Service Commission's Web site at www.state.ar.us/psc.

* * *

We hope you're noticing and enjoying the changes in the Weekly. Within just the last couple of days, we heard from several of you with good feature story ideas. You'll have those interesting stories to look forward to in the near future. They ea how much that might help our bills this winter. If you'd like to learn more about this situation and what you can do to help your pocket book, read the article in this issue of the Arkansas Weekly and visit the Arkansas Public Service Commission's Web site at www.state.ar.us/psc.

* * *

We hope you're noticing and enjoying the changes in the Weekly. Within just the last couple of days, we heard from several of you with good feature story ideas. You'll have those interesting stories to look forward to in the near future. They include an area racecar driver who's doing pretty well for himself (on the cover of this edition) and a group of Southside Middle School kids with no lack of enthusiasm.

Thanks for picking up the Weekly and letting us know what you think. Keep it up!

Also, we'll be offering our holiday recipe contest again this year.

Look for entry forms for the Warmth of Home cooking recipes contest at Westside Grocery in Batesville. That's the only place you can get the entry forms. Early in November, we'll draw several recipes at include an area racecar driver who's doing pretty well for himself (on the cover of this edition) and a group of Southside Middle School kids with no lack of enthusiasm.

Thanks for picking up the Weekly and letting us know what you think. Keep it up!

Also, we'll be offering our holiday recipe contest again this year.

Look for entry forms for the Warmth of Home cooking recipes contest at Westside Grocery in Batesville. That's the only place you can get the entry forms. Early in November, we'll draw several recipes at random from all of them, and big prizes will be given. They include free turkeys and shopping sprees. So, be sure to get us your favorite holiday recipes.

Julie M. Fidler is editor of the Arkansas Weekly and news director for WRD Entertainment Inc. She may be reached by e-mail at [email protected].

September 27, 2000

We're changing a few things here at Arkansas Weekly. But don't worry. We won't take anything away fr random from all of them, and big prizes will be given. They include free turkeys and shopping sprees. So, be sure to get us your favorite holiday recipes.

Julie M. Fidler is editor of the Arkansas Weekly and news director for WRD Entertainment Inc. She may be reached by e-mail at [email protected].

September 27, 2000

We're changing a few things here at Arkansas Weekly. But don't worry. We won't take anything away from you, and it's only going to get better.

We hope to include more local content and involve more of our readers. We would like to include news about what your communities, school organizations, civic clubs and other groups are doing. If you've got an important community activity coming up, let us know. Or, if you've just received an honor or provided a community service, let us know. If you know of an interesting person who would make a great feature story, let us know. Got an idea for a picture for the cover or inside the paper? We'd like to hear your ideas.

You canrom you, and it's only going to get better.

You can write to me in care of the Arkansas Weekly at P.O. Box 2077, Batesville, AR 72503; call (870) 793-4196, extension 30, or e-mail me at [email protected].

We also hope to have a holiday recipe issue. So, be watching upcoming issues for details.

By the way, on all communications with us, please include your full name, mailing address and a phone number so we can verify that the information actually came from you and also so we'll know who to check with if we have any questions.

Our deadline to include somethingn write to me in care of the Arkansas Weekly at P.O. Box 2077, Batesville, AR 72503; call (870) 793-4196, extension 30, or e-mail me at [email protected].

We also hope to have a holiday recipe issue. So, be watching upcoming issues for details.

Our deadline to include something in the paper, other than classifieds, is Wednesday of the week before the paper in which you would like your submission to appear. The deadline for classifieds is Thursday at noon.

* * *

Oh, by the way, for those of you who might've wanted to try the roasted pumpkin seed recipe I included in last week's column, you might be interested to know that a measurement was lost in the computer. Where there was a dash, there should've been a "half." I'll rerun the recipe below:

Spread the pumpkin seedg in the paper, other than classifieds, is Wednesday of the week before the paper in which you would like your submission to appear. The deadline for classifieds is Thursday at noon.

* * *

Spread the pumpkin seeds (about one and a half cups) in a single layer in a shallow baking pan. (It's OK to leave some strings and pulp; they add flavor.) Drizzle with a half tablespoon melted butter and sprinkle with salt or other seasonings of your choice. Bake at 300 degrees, stirring occasionally, for 45 minutes or until the seeds are golden brown.

Julie M. Fidler is news director for WRD Entertainment and editor of Arkansas Weekly.

September 20, 2000

brown.

Julie M. Fidler is news director for WRD Entertainment and editor of Arkansas Weekly.

September 20, 2000

Autumn begins on Friday! Yay!

Fall this year could be a bit of a bummer, however, thanks to the drought-like conditions we had this summer. The National Weather Service is saying we won't have the vibrant colors we normally do in the Ozarks because the moisture wasn't there for the leaves. In fact, we're already seeing leaves falling from trees and blowing across our paths. Yeah, because they're dead!

Fall has always been my favorite season. I like it because the sky is usually at its bluest and the air at its crispest, and of course, because of the beautiful faize="2">Autumn begins on Friday! Yay!

Fall has always been my favorite season. I like it because the sky is usually at its bluest and the air at its crispest, and of course, because of the beautiful fall colors. I always enjoyed raking up the leaves and jumping in them as a child. Now, I like to rake them and let my kids jump in the piles. Afterward, they help put them in giant trash bags that are decorated like jack-o-lanterns.

Those who know me know I am a bit obsessed with fall when it comes to pumpkins. The number of pumpkins I carve a year has steadily grown from two or three to a dozen or 20. I use the small knives from Pumpkin Masters and do some pretty intricate stuff. A couple of years ago, I even designed and carved one that bore the unmistakable crooked grin of my bespectacled oldest son. To see the type oall colors. I always enjoyed raking up the leaves and jumping in them as a child. Now, I like to rake them and let my kids jump in the piles. Afterward, they help put them in giant trash bags that are decorated like jack-o-lanterns.

Those who know me know I am a bit obsessed with fall when it comes to pumpkins. The number of pumpkins I carve a year has steadily grown from two or three to a dozen or 20. I use the small knives from Pumpkin Masters and do some pretty intricate stuff. A couple of years ago, I even designed and carved one that bore the unmistakable crooked grin of my bespectacled oldest son. To see the type of pumpkins I'm talking about, you can visit www.pumpkinmasters.com on the Internet.

This year, I'm even more excited about pumpkins because I have a couple from my very own, unplanned pumpkin patch. See, last fall, there was one of the couple-dozen pumpkins I bought that I never got around to carving. By the time I finished procrastinating about moving it from beside the front doorstep, it had rotted into the ground. Then this summer, voila! (that's French for "looky here!") the most beautiful pumpkin patch came to life under and around my porch. It was killed rapidly by the drought before it could'of pumpkins I'm talking about, you can visit www.pumpkinmasters.com on the Internet.

This year, I'm even more excited about pumpkins because I have a couple from my very own, unplanned pumpkin patch. See, last fall, there was one of the couple-dozen pumpkins I bought that I never got around to carving. By the time I finished procrastinating about moving it from beside the front doorstep, it had rotted into the ground. Then this summer, voila! (that's French for "looky here!") the most beautiful pumpkin patch came to life under and around my porch. It was killed rapidly by the drought before it could've become the most sincere pumpkin patch in the world, drawing the Great Pumpkin to leave lots of toys and goodies. At any rate, I got two nice, big round pumpkins out of it before the patch croaked.

The smaller pumpkin, I plan to use for pies. The larger one will end up with some fancy design. Both will yield lots of crunchy, roasted seeds. For a recipe no kid or adult could resist, try the following from the Pumpkin Masters folks:

Spread the seeds (about 1 _ cups) in a single layer in a shallow baking pan. (It's OK to leave some strings and pulp; they add flavor.) Drizz've become the most sincere pumpkin patch in the world, drawing the Great Pumpkin to leave lots of toys and goodies. At any rate, I got two nice, big round pumpkins out of it before the patch croaked.

Spread the seeds (about 1 _ cups) in a single layer in a shallow baking pan. (It's OK to leave some strings and pulp; they add flavor.) Drizzle with _ tablespoon melted butter and sprinkle with salt or other seasonings of your choice. Bake at 300 degrees, stirring occasionally, for 45 minutes or until the seeds are golden brown.

I'd be interested in your pumpkin recipes – anything involving pumpkin. Such as pies, cookies, bread, soup, etc. When we were kids, my brother and I had a Peanuts cookbook. It had such delicacies as Lucy's Lemon Cookies. Every year, we would make Linus' Great Pumpkin Cookies. They'd always turn out a bit mushy, but boy were they good. If any of you happen to have that old book (I remember it was paperback and had a greenzle with _ tablespoon melted butter and sprinkle with salt or other seasonings of your choice. Bake at 300 degrees, stirring occasionally, for 45 minutes or until the seeds are golden brown.

I'd be interested in your pumpkin recipes – anything involving pumpkin. Such as pies, cookies, bread, soup, etc. When we were kids, my brother and I had a Peanuts cookbook. It had such delicacies as Lucy's Lemon Cookies. Every year, we would make Linus' Great Pumpkin Cookies. They'd always turn out a bit mushy, but boy were they good. If any of you happen to have that old book (I remember it was paperback and had a green cover. I believe the pages were pink, and we ordered it from the Scholastic book club at school), please e-mail it, along with any of your other pumpkin recipes to me at [email protected].

Julie M. Fidler is news director for WRD Entertainment, Inc.

September 13, 2000

Remember that one special teacher? How could you forget her?

She was the one who really shown cover. I believe the pages were pink, and we ordered it from the Scholastic book club at school), please e-mail it, along with any of your other pumpkin recipes to me at [email protected].

Julie M. Fidler is news director for WRD Entertainment, Inc.

September 13, 2000

Remember that one special teacher? How could you forget her?

She was the one who really showed an interest in you. She went out of her way to help you out when you were having a hard time with something. She had just the right bit of advice when you had a problem you couldn't solve. She challenged you to use your imagination and creativity.

I had a teacher like that in first grade about a million years ago.

This year, my youngest son has a teacher he will never forget – Sheila Foley. She teaches second grade at West Elementary. My oldest son was in Mrs. Foley's class four years ago. Up to that point, there was no teacher who could get him to behave. He wed an interest in you. She went out of her way to help you out when you were having a hard time with something. She had just the right bit of advice when you had a problem you couldn't solve. She challenged you to use your imagination and creativity.

I had a teacher like that in first grade about a million years ago.

All summer, I hoped little brother would get Mrs. Foley for a teacher. Nick, son number two, is a character. He is bored easily with video games, tapes and shows. When he does watch TV, he likes to watch Animal Planet, the Discovery Channel, PBS or "Ripley's Believe or Not!" and his mind is like a sponge, soaking in the knowledge and retaining it, perhaps forever, but at least until the opportunity presents itself to recite a memorized fact.

This morning, in discussing the next "Survivor" series, to be shot in the Australi was later diagnosed with ADD.

This morning, in discussing the next "Survivor" series, to be shot in the Australian Outback, Nick told me about "saw grass" which is found near "gator ponds." The long strands of grass are covered with little saw-like things that cut into your skin, Nick told me. He said he hopes the next set of castaways doesn't run into any of that.

When Nick's not watching these programs, he has a disguise for every occasion. He has become a private investigator, a cowboy, an American Indian, a pirate, a soldier, a sheriff, a ninja, a Jedi, you name it.

On the second day of school, he hopped out of the car at West School's front sidewalk and putian Outback, Nick told me about "saw grass" which is found near "gator ponds." The long strands of grass are covered with little saw-like things that cut into your skin, Nick told me. He said he hopes the next set of castaways doesn't run into any of that.

On the second day of school, he hopped out of the car at West School's front sidewalk and put on a pair of Groucho Marx-type glasses complete with bushy eyebrows and mustache (the lenses he had taped over with green cellophane) and a backwards ball cap. When I asked what he was doing, he answered, "I'm going incognito today."

Nick also invents things. But that would take awhile to go into. Most of the inventions involve duct tape and some form of cardboard. You get an idea of what the kid is like.

I was hoping he would get Mrs. Foley for a teacher because she is extremely innovative and forward-thinking. Her teaching techniques allow students to be t on a pair of Groucho Marx-type glasses complete with bushy eyebrows and mustache (the lenses he had taped over with green cellophane) and a backwards ball cap. When I asked what he was doing, he answered, "I'm going incognito today."

Nick also invents things. But that would take awhile to go into. Most of the inventions involve duct tape and some form of cardboard. You get an idea of what the kid is like.

I was hoping he would get Mrs. Foley for a teacher because she is extremely innovative and forward-thinking. Her teaching techniques allow students to be at their most creative, imaginative and inventive. So, I knew she and Nick were two of a kind. Every year, Mrs. Foley's class creates a scale dinosaur and usually wins a prize at the county fair with it. She has an annual Thanksgiving play, and the kids contribute their thoughts and ideas to the script to make it unique. Parents often feel compelled to help with Mrs. Foley's activities and have built birdhouses and even a wooden "reading castle" for students to climb up into and peruse their favorite books. One dad helped rig a dinosaur's eyes to light up.

Right now, Mrs. Foley has two tadpoles, one with a leg at their most creative, imaginative and inventive. So, I knew she and Nick were two of a kind. Every year, Mrs. Foley's class creates a scale dinosaur and usually wins a prize at the county fair with it. She has an annual Thanksgiving play, and the kids contribute their thoughts and ideas to the script to make it unique. Parents often feel compelled to help with Mrs. Foley's activities and have built birdhouses and even a wooden "reading castle" for students to climb up into and peruse their favorite books. One dad helped rig a dinosaur's eyes to light up.

Right now, Mrs. Foley has two tadpoles, one with a leg already, in a jar in her room and is encouraging the kids to bring in ladybugs or any bug they can catch. Nick's grasshopper got away, so he brought his rock collection instead.

He comes home each day with stories of what went on in class. He's intrigued, he's inspired, he's learning and having fun. And we have one special memorable teacher to thank.

* * *

Can you believe Richard was the sole survivor on "Survivor"? Sure glad I didn't put money on Rudy, the guy who should've won. When it boiled g already, in a jar in her room and is encouraging the kids to bring in ladybugs or any bug they can catch. Nick's grasshopper got away, so he brought his rock collection instead.

He comes home each day with stories of what went on in class. He's intrigued, he's inspired, he's learning and having fun. And we have one special memorable teacher to thank.

* * *

Can you believe Richard was the sole survivor on "Survivor"? Sure glad I didn't put money on Rudy, the guy who should've won. When it boiled down to just Rich and Kelly, I was certain she would've and should've won the million. But, can you get over what it came down to? Greg-the-kook's swing vote. Based on what? Rich or Kelly picking a number between one and ten. Rich came the closest to what number the fruit loop was thinking and, as a result, he won the whole shebang. Ugh!

Julie M. Fidler may be reached by e-mail at [email protected].

August 23, 2000

It's been a coupl down to just Rich and Kelly, I was certain she would've and should've won the million. But, can you get over what it came down to? Greg-the-kook's swing vote. Based on what? Rich or Kelly picking a number between one and ten. Rich came the closest to what number the fruit loop was thinking and, as a result, he won the whole shebang. Ugh!

Julie M. Fidler may be reached by e-mail at [email protected].

August 23, 2000

It's been a couple of weeks since I've written a column for this space. Shame on me.

Really, each week, my mind has drawn a blank. (Not that unusual.) Everything I thought of to write about I had written about before. And perhaps I am experiencing some sort of mental block due to past criticism. After all, who really cares what I have to say about anything?

I spent a couple of weeks' worth of spare time finishing up my summer cleaning and moving-everything-in-the-house-to-some-place-different project. The boys are back in town. Although they were in Cajun country out of reach of this publication and unaware they could look at my columns on the Internet, their surprise was somewhat spoiled by a reader who apparently passed on the information to their father. Oh well, at least I know someone's reading! Someone who can't keep a secret.

At any rate, the boys were thrilled to have their own rooms when they returned for the school year. They set about "decorating" them immediately. To me, the so-called decoration looks a bit more like "cluttering up."

And, though they've not even been home quite two weeks, we've already had our share of publication and unaware they could look at my columns on the Internet, their surprise was somewhat spoiled by a reader who apparently passed on the information to their father. Oh well, at least I know someone's reading! Someone who can't keep a secret.

And, though they've not even been home quite two weeks, we've already had our share of adventures.

They were returned to me each several inches taller than when they left, but still weighing the same as they did last May. Good thing they can wear shorts for awhile, because the longer legs mean new trousers across the board.

One afternoon the first week, I dropped the two at the "Mickey Mouse" pool, the Batesville city pool on Harrison Street. That way, they'd have some adult supervision while I had to work. They both swim like fish. Well, while there, Vincent, who thinks he's Greg Louganis or some other famous diver, scaled the 10-foot diving board and dove off headfirst. In mid-air, he apparently spotted another boy in the water just below him. He tried to readjust to avoid hitting the child. Avoid he did, but he landed, SPLAT!, on the left side of his own face. He appeared to be in some pain that night, so I told him he'd better lie down and rest before our 4-day camping trip to Branson, Mo., began the next day.

The ear still seemed to bother him while we were vacationing, and I made him wear an earplug in it when we got near any water, advising him to keep his head above the water. That was difficult for the man from Atlantis who claims to not even know hrd and dove off headfirst. In mid-air, he apparently spotted another boy in the water just below him. He tried to readjust to avoid hitting the child. Avoid he did, but he landed, SPLAT!, on the left side of his own face. He appeared to be in some pain that night, so I told him he'd better lie down and rest before our 4-day camping trip to Branson, Mo., began the next day.

By the time we got back home, Vincent's ear was draining some yucky stuff. I had been thinking maybe we should go to the emergency room, but he acted like it no longer hurt, and I knew I had a before-school appointment with the family doctor the next morning.

Ends up, the poor kid's eardrum was "perforated." The doc had me look through his magnifying, ear-peering thingy at the other son's ear drum – looked exactly like the top of a snare drum – and then at big brother's. That one looked like a snare drum with a red tuhow to swim unless he is submerged.

The ear, nose and throat doctor told us to wait a month and come back and see him. Hopefully, it will heal up by then. Meanwhile, no more swimming for the kid from Atlantis.

***

On another note, we ran out to the fairgrounds while the carnies were setting up shop last week. Vincent spotted all the tents on the grounds there. "Look, Mom," he said. "Look at all the people so anxious to get into the fair they're camping out!"

The ear, nose and throat doctor told us to wait a month and come back and see him. Hopefully, it will heal up by then. Meanwhile, no more swimming for the kid from Atlantis.

***

How about that Frank Wallis, huh? He's now $29,900 richer than he was before he sold his George Washington-Sacagewea coin. Do you suppose the deadpan Batesville native showed any emotion at the auction? Poor Frank got the lowest price out of the three mis-stamped coins that have been sold. The one that got the most money? The one sold for $41,395 on the Internet auction site, E-bay.

Julie M. Fidler is news director for WRD Entertainment Inc. She may be reached by e-mail at [email protected].

***

Julie M. Fidler is news director for WRD Entertainment Inc. She may be reached by e-mail at [email protected].

July 26, 2000

Over the past couple of weeks I've found a reason it might be good to have a grown male human around the house – for the purpose of moving furniture.

Since my divorce, the only other reasons I could come up with were for killing bugs and for disposing of pets that die. I don't like mowing the lawn, but I can handle it.

I've had the unpleasant task recently of picking up and moving bab"65%" size="1" color="#C0C0C0">

July 26, 2000

Over the past couple of weeks I've found a reason it might be good to have a grown male human around the house – for the purpose of moving furniture.

Since my divorce, the only other reasons I could come up with were for killing bugs and for disposing of pets that die. I don't like mowing the lawn, but I can handle it.

I've had the unpleasant task recently of picking up and moving baby kitties that were runts and just didn't make it. Then, the other day I found a big ol' spider in my bathtub. What I would've given to just say in both cases, "Honey, take care of that wouldja?"

More recently, I had it in my head that I would undertake a major project inside my home. A 3-bedroom house, it's always been divided up with both sons in one room and the second bedroom with a bed, games, an electric treadmill and JUNK. While the boys have been away for a couple months this summer, I thought it would be a nice surprise to separate out their stuff and fix up one room for each of them. As a result,by kitties that were runts and just didn't make it. Then, the other day I found a big ol' spider in my bathtub. What I would've given to just say in both cases, "Honey, take care of that wouldja?"

More recently, I had it in my head that I would undertake a major project inside my home. A 3-bedroom house, it's always been divided up with both sons in one room and the second bedroom with a bed, games, an electric treadmill and JUNK. While the boys have been away for a couple months this summer, I thought it would be a nice surprise to separate out their stuff and fix up one room for each of them. As a result, I haven't been able to get to my own bedroom or the master bath for almost a solid week.

The first step was to take everything, and I mean everything, out of the room they had been sharing for seven years. This meant going through every drawer, the closet, toy boxes and under the bed with a fine-tooth comb. Yuck! I found old, smashed chocolate-covered marshmallow Easter eggs, dried up cat poop and plenty of dirty underwear and socks. But I also found some really sweet stuff. I found the beginnings of inventions made by number two son and school papers I had somehow never seen.

&, I haven't been able to get to my own bedroom or the master bath for almost a solid week.

Among the school papers was a theme by the oldest one about why his mom is so great. The three reasons backing up his statement? I'm fun; I'm a great cook; and I'm a hard worker. Wow.

It took a few hours each night and one whole weekend day to get that room cleared out and rearranged. The final night, I slept on the bottom bunk there.

Next, I tackled what would become the youngest boy's room. There, I moved out an exercise bike, the treadmill, a computer and computer table and rearranged the bed, dresser and entertainment center. After two days of that, I slept Among the school papers was a theme by the oldest one about why his mom is so great. The three reasons backing up his statement? I'm fun; I'm a great cook; and I'm a hard worker. Wow.

It took a few hours each night and one whole weekend day to get that room cleared out and rearranged. The final night, I slept on the bottom bunk there.

By this time, I was in great pain. Muscles ached that I probably hadn't used since climbing on the jungle gym at Mossville Elementary School.

Next, I'll get on my bedroom and hopefully, by next week, be able to sleep in my own bed. It'd be nice to say, "Honey, would you take care of that?"

*****

Governor and Mrs. Huckabee are moving into a mobile home while the governor's mansion is renovated. t on that kid's bed, still unable to get to my own.

By this time, I was in great pain. Muscles ached that I probably hadn't used since climbing on the jungle gym at Mossville Elementary School.

Next, I'll get on my bedroom and hopefully, by next week, be able to sleep in my own bed. It'd be nice to say, "Honey, would you take care of that?"

*****

Governor and Mrs. Huckabee are moving into a mobile home while the governor's mansion is renovated. The manufactured home is being donated by the Arkansas Manufactured Housing Association. It would retail for $105,000 to $110,000 and is being brought in by truck from Indiana. Apparently there are no house trailers available in Arkansas in the Huckabees' price range.

The governor's mansion renovation is expected to cost $1.4 million and will include plumbing and wiring work. That's just a portion of the $10 million makeover Mrs. Huckabee has envisioned for the mansion. My goodness, why must the governor and first lady live in a home that it takes over a million bucks just to repair? Why not donate some of that plan The manufactured home is being donated by the Arkansas Manufactured Housing Association. It would retail for $105,000 to $110,000 and is being brought in by truck from Indiana. Apparently there are no house trailers available in Arkansas in the Huckabees' price range.

*****

At this writing, word has gotten out that some computer geek believes he knows the winner of CBS' Survivor by looking up pictures on the official Web site. An unofficial Web site, www.survivorsucks.com, reports that, each week, when another contestant is voted off the island, his or her photo appears on the CBS cast page on the official site with a red X, meaning that they're gone. This Web surfer right-clicked on a photo, found its properties (specificallynned $10 million toward building moderate homes for the homeless?

*****

At this writing, word has gotten out that some computer geek believes he knows the winner of CBS' Survivor by looking up pictures on the official Web site. An unofficial Web site, www.survivorsucks.com, reports that, each week, when another contestant is voted off the island, his or her photo appears on the CBS cast page on the official site with a red X, meaning that they're gone. This Web surfer right-clicked on a photo, found its properties (specifically the image file names), and by inserting each of the original 16 cast members' names into the file name field, discovered that only one photo came up without an X.

Does this mean the one without the X is the sole survivor? I hope not.

Why, of all the dunderheads on the island, would it be Gervase after all? I seem to remember him sitting there and telling the camera that he hasn't done a darn thing since he got there. He didn't help build anything, he didn't do any of the food gathering or cooking. He said women are "dumber than cows," and, even though he's a basketball coach, he got tired after running a few yards in a competition.

Say it isn't so. We'll find out for sure in the final 1-hour episode airing Aug. 23.

Julie M. Fidler is news director at WRD Entertainment Inc. She can be reached by e-mail at [email protected].

July 19, 2000

Recently a man beat another man to death over their children's hockey game.

It was just a game.

The man who was killed was the single father of four who had just gained custody of all of his children. Now, his elderly mother is left to care for them.

What's wrong with people? I cannot fathom how any human could get his temper worked up so much over a game as to strike someone. It's just a game.

Why do kids play organized sports? No one in my family, including my two older brothers, has ever felt the desire to play on a team, so I truly can't say. But, my guess is that it is fun and there is good fellowship and maybe even some rewards.

From the comments I've heard from children athletes, they are out there to have fun. How upsetting it must be to watch your father killed over a game in which you are playing.

The latest incident has brought it home to me once again how grateful I am that my two sons, ages 7 and 11, show absolutely no interest in organized sports. For one thing, I won't ever have to worry about getting them to this or that game in this or that town and stay up all night for a late ballgame. I also won't have to worry about some parent beating the crap out of me if my kid does something stupid on the field or court.

This is not to say that my sons and I don't like sports. We love to play Wiffle Ball or catch, bat around the badminton in the side yard or play a round of H-O-R-S-E with the basketball hoop in the driveway, but we never lose our tempers over any of it. After all, we're just in it for the fun. We're more likely to play Monopoly. And, although we get upset that someone else manages to get both Park Place and Boardwalk, we're not going to kill over it.

My oldest son, Vincent, has had two attempts at organized sports, and both were a lesson to us.

The first was with tee ball when he was five. It was my idea to get him into it. It seemed like the thing to do. (So did that one baby pageant in which I entered him, and he cried the entire time he was on the stage.) He showed no enthusiasm either way about being on the team. Whenever it was his turn to bat, it would take him numerous swings to hit the ball even though it was right there in front of him, just resting there, waiting to be smacked.

When it was Vincent's turn in the outfield he would often sit down on the ground and play in the dirt. Another time, a ball rolled straight to him, coming to a halt less than a yard from his left foot. I was sitting on the bleachers wondering what he'd do. He put his hand up by his mouth, so as to amplify his voice, squinted in the sun, pointed at the ball and hollered, "Mommy, is it OK if I pick that up?"

I laughed and bellowed back, "Sure, go ahead. And throw it to the boy at second."

He had no idea what I meant. What was second? Why throw it there? Well, we survived. At the end of tee ball season every kid got a trophy for participating. He still keeps his little golden baseball player on his dresser.

The past two years, Vincent signed up for kids' church league basketball. Our church, I'm afraid, offers very few youth activities for children until junior high school when they can join the youth group. Vincent is in the children's choir and hand bells at church, and he saw the basketball team perhaps as a good way he might get to hang out with some of his friends from those activities.

As one of only a couple fourth-graders on the team, he was surprised to find none of his choir buddies were there. He came home after the weekly practice and talked about being bullied and picked on. I told him that's just the way it was when you're the smallest. "Wait 'till next year," I said. "You'll show them!"

Next year came, and Vincent reluctantly signed up for church basketball again. Now, he was a fifth-grader, but this time it was worse. The bigger kids remembered how awkward he was the year before, and it was magnified this year. He played in one painful game against another church. Or, I should say, he played in a small part of the game.

Rarely, someone on Vincent's team would accidentally pass the ball to him. He'd cover his face, protecting his glasses, and duck. He couldn't dribble and walk at the same time, and he never got anywhere near the hoop.

At half-time, I motioned to my son to "come here." His head hung low, he obviously expected me to chastise him. When he got close, I put my arm around him and the other around his little brother (who was getting very bored with all this) and said, "Let's go."

"Why Mommy?" Vincent asked.

As we were walking out of the building, I looked at my oldest boy and could see a tremendous weight lifted off his shoulders. He smiled broadly.

"You don't have to do that if you don't want to," I said.

"All riiiiiight!" he said.

And we went for pizza.

Julie M. Fidler is news director for WRD Entertainment. She may be reached by e-mail at [email protected], by phone at (870) 793-4196, extension 30, or by mail at P.O. Box 2077, Batesville, AR 72503

July 12, 2000

Broadcasting is an addiction. Once you've decided it's for you, you can try to escape, but you'll always have to come back for a fix.

As a teen-ager, I spent a lot of time alone, listening to the local top 40 radio station. It was a thrill to call the local disc jockey to request a song and then listen for it and see what he'd say about it. After playing my requested Andy Gibb tune once, I remember the d.j. saying Gibb sounded like a chimpanzee in heat. Ouch.

Eventually, I arranged to meet my favorite d.j. and take a tour of the station. I was in love – with both the broadcaster and broadcasting.

My father and I had always been fascinated with radio. He explained to me many times about the vacuum tube and we discussed Marconi a lot. We purchased a crystal radio kit from Radio Shack and that was fun for awhile. But it didn't satisfy my need to actually have my voice go out over the airwaves.

At the time, anyone who would be on the radio was required by the Federal Communications Commission to have a first class radio operator's license. So, I got the necessary books and began studying. I also recall buying a book called "How to be a radio disc jockey." It was full of all the fun stuff, tongue twisters and fake commercials to practice reading. It told how to enunciate, breathe and how to develop a good delivery while the technical books were dry and told about how to take various meter readings and about ohms and watts and such. I even signed up for a college-level radio/TV course.

One evening while perusing our Radio Shack catalog, Dad spotted a kit that would allow one to have her own frequency modulation (FM) "radio station." Of course, the wattage was very low and no licenses were required. We rushed out and got the kit.

Dad didn't just put together the kit, he made a switch so I could go back and forth between putting out the records I played on my stereo or the microphone in which I spoke; and he built an "on the air" sign that would light every time I turned the equipment on to broadcast.

At age 15, I had my very own radio station in the basement! At first, I called it WFID, using the first three letters of my last name. Then, I read in Broadcasting magazine (to which I subscribed) that it was becoming hip to include the letter "Z" within call letters. So, I became WFIZ.

The format of my radio station? It ranged from Top 40 to my brothers' Led Zepplin albums to my mom's big band tunes to my dad's George Carlin and Bill Cosby LPs. Our coverage area? The house, garage, driveway, yard and perhaps a bit of the neighbors' yards on either side of us. I got requests, that's for sure. Dad would call in on the intercom from his workbench in the garage; Mom would call from the kitchen sink while doing dishes; and brother Mike would listen from the back porch where he was twiddling with a homemade go cart.

All through high school, I continually applied for a job, any job, at the local radio station – which I never got. But, I didn't give up. As I watched more and more current events on television during the Iran hostage crisis, I adjusted my dream to becoming a television broadcast journalist. Jessica Savitch was blazing a path for women in broadcasting that I found hard to avoid.

My first day at Arkansas College I was disappointed to find the radio station had become defunct just that summer, and I introduced myself to the media professor as "Julie M. Fidler, the next Jessica Savitch." That was obviously before she was killed in an awful car wreck.

While I was attending AC, I helped pay for tuition by working in the school's media center and with a part-time job at KBTA/KZLE. There, in a small brick building by the White River, I got to fulfill part of my dream by d.j.'ing on KBTA. Much to my chagrin, the format was the only kind of music I wouldn't have thought of playing on WFIZ – country. I was also needed to cover local meetings and produce some news for the stations.

During my college years, I became very interested in covering and writing news, and shortly after my graduation, I got a job at the local newspaper, where I stayed for 15 years and loved it.

Just over a month ago broadcasting, my first love, re-entered the picture.

I came to WRD Entertainment when I heard there was an opening for a part-time disc jockey. Hooray! I thought it would be fun to d.j. part time and do some freelance writing, photography and Web site building. However, the company was in need of someone in its news department and I did, after all, have about 18 years of experience in that area.

So, here I am, excited to be covering the news AND getting my Midwestern voice on the air several times a day. Now, if I can just work my way into a bit of that d.j. thing. . .

Julie M. Fidler is news director for WRD Entertainment. She can be reached by e-mail at [email protected].

June 28, 2000

What were you doing 20 years ago? Have you changed any since then? Are you a completely different person?

Chances are, you've changed some, but deep down inside, you're still basically the same person. Usually, a crabby old man was a crabby young man. Someone who was pretty happy-go-lucky usually stays that way. A juvenile trouble-maker is likely a grown-up trouble-maker.

My mother had the nickname "Sunny" when she was younger because she had such a friendly, sunshiny personality.

She still does have that positive outlook, but life has changed my mom some. Breast cancer, diabetes, stroke, high blood pressure, thyroid disease, trying times with each of her children and over 50 years of marriage – these have all made her more realistic in her approach to daily life. But underneath, she's still Sunny.

Twenty years ago, I was going into my senior year of high school. I was a nerd. Not the overtly smart type of nerd. I got a D in algebra because I didn't care about it. But, the kind of nerd who liked everything that wasn't "cool" with the in crowd.

I took part in no extracurricular activities. Well, I was on the school newspaper staff, and that was about it. I went to school, then I went home day in and day out. At home I'd spend every evening watching television, listening to the radio, writing in my diary, reading or talking with friends on the phone. Yes, I did have friends – some close ones with whom I'd hang out at the mall, go to the movies or have slumber parties. But I was never invited to any "keggers" or even school dances, proms or games. I didn't taste my first alcoholic beverage until I was 20 and a college student.

I knew what I was into and what I liked was considered "lame" by some my age, and I guess what made me a real nerd was that I would proudly defend it.

It was not cool to like, for example: Tiger Beat magazine, Donny Osmond, the Captain and Tennille, disco dancing, the Bee Gees, puka shells and mood rings. I would debate those who doubted the Captain and Tennille's musical talents, and I'd go to bat for them today (with the possible exception of "Muskrat Love.") Heck, I almost got beaten up once when I told a friend's older sister that the Bee Gees' version of "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band" topped the Beatles' original.

In celebration of what I thought was my unique and hopeless nerdiness, I created a Web site a few years back called "Stuck in the '70s." To me, all the kitsch I was into defined my favorite decade. I made my Internet site a tribute to all that was fun or corny. I even began publishing my 1970s diaries on the site so people who didn't live then could learn what was popular. I thought the diaries were pretty typical, telling my viewpoints on current events and talking about boys on whom I had crushes – boys who didn't even know I existed.

Ends up, I am not alone. I receive hundreds of e-mails from nerds just like me! They were in their rooms, listening to the Top 40 stations at the same time I was. Or, I get e-mails from their daughters, who are now buying Tiger Beat and listening to their CDs of the Backstreet Boys, Hanson and 'Nsync.

I was riding high until last week when someone signed my virtual guest book in a not-so-friendly way. She was someone who was three years ahead of me in high school. She started out by writing, "I don't even remember you." Well, honestly, in a school with over 500 students, I didn't know who she was either. I didn't even find her in my yearbook (she probably had a hang-over the day school pictures were taken).

She went on to basically call me a loser. She said I was crazy if I ever thought I had a chance with Joe, the fox I followed around and sent secret admirer notes to. She said the Captain and Tennille were lame and so was all of the other stuff I enjoyed. She asked why I didn't include some "real" musical groups on my site such as Cheap Trick, AC/DC, Pink Floyd, Aerosmith and a few drug-related, alleged rock and rollers I'd never heard of in the '70s.

Wow. As I read over her message again, I was immediately taken back to those times in high school when I faced the same ridicule. That shouldn't be possible when one is well into being thirty-something. I felt like a loser again for the first time in years. Then I got angry.

The woman didn't bother to say what she is doing now. The last time I saw Joe the fox, he was a 40-year-old Pizza Hut bus boy. I'd be interested in her career and achievements.

So, I let it go, but not without defending myself. My return message went something like this:

"Thank you for signing my guest book and for reminding me why I hated high school and how much I don't miss the burn outs. Have a nice day."

And, you have a nice day.

Julie M. Fidler is WRD Entertainment news director. She may be reached by e-mail at [email protected]. You can visit her Web site at www.stuckinthe70s.com.

June 21, 2000

What's with America's obsession with voyeurism?

Apparently, we like to watch more than we like to do. Television in the United States is beginning to look more and more like the big screen movies The Truman Show and EdTV.

MTV's "Real World" about apartment-mates is going into its ninth season, although it's downright boring and stupid. Who cares? I don't.

Now, comes "Survivor," and soon, "Big Brother." Where's it all coming from? Europe. These sort of shows have proved popular over there, so we're trying it here.

On CBS' "Survivor," at 7 p.m. Wednesdays, two groups of people are left on an island to fend for themselves, eat big, boppy, crawly white bugs and rats and try to get along with each other. To me, it seems the producers should have separated the tribes into "old folks" and "clueless twenty-somethings."

Each week, one of the tribes votes someone off the island.

So far, it's pretty much been the younger people voting off the older people. OK, B.B. did wash his filthy T-shirt in the drinking water, and he did say he wanted to go home. However, he was pretty beneficial.

And before that, Sonja was voted off. Well, for heaven's sake, she's 65, and the woman survived cancer. She may not have been the strongest one in the tribe, but I think she knows a few things about life!

On the latest show, the only remaining "older" guy (Rudy) was nearly a goner. But, the youngsters wised up a bit, and Stacey received more votes to get the boot. It came down between the two of them, and the tribe voted out the one who was more full of herself. (If it were up to me, I'd vote out the guy who wears swim trunks and black crew socks! Yuck.)

Why don't these so-called "survivors" take a lesson from the American Indian and gain from the older citizens' experiences? Indian tribes revere their elders and treat them appropriately. No one voted them out of the tribe because of personality conflicts.

So, why do we continue to watch this drivel?

I must say, there is something intriguing about watching the human pysche in action. It's fun (when it's not you) to uproot someone, put them in an unfamiliar setting under a magnifying glass and watch what they do. Although it's mostly boring and stupid, they might just haul off and do something tremendous.

The best of these new "reality-based" shows is by far one I predict will be mostly overlooked. It's "The 1900 House" from PBS. It airs at 8 p.m. Mondays on AETN.

If you're not careful watching this one, you might actually learn something about history and turn of the century London, England. For "The 1900 House," creators found a home built in a middle class neighborhood in 1890 in south London. It's the kind of house that would've been occupied by regular folks - not the upper crust and not the poor.

A crew gutted the house, for the most part, to restore it to the way it would be in the year 1900. Some of the original pipes, wallpaper and masonry were found in the process. The first floor of the two-story, three-bedroom home was lit by gas. These gas lines were found to be sound, and so lamps were added.

Museum curators and historians worked to find furnishings to fill the house. This proved to be difficult because everything in the house had to actually be working and usable. The hardest to find was a coal range for the kitchen. Pleasing the modern-day safety inspectors was even harder.

The inspectors dubbed the finished house "dangerous," and producers were required to provide a key (behind glass) to a locked room with a telephone, in case of an emergency. Like if the coal-burning stove explodes or one of the kids is burnt with the scalding water used to wash clothing - both common occurrences in 1900 England.

The show hired a psychologist to interview hundreds of families wanting to live in the house and be watched while they try to lead a daily early 20th century life. She picked a family with a "good sense of humor."

I'm going to stay tuned to this one.

Julie M. Fidler is news director for W.R.D. Entertainment. She may be reached by e-mail at [email protected]

June 14, 2000

Someone great once said something like "Truly I tell you, just as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me."

Of course, that great someone was Jesus Christ, and the quotation above is from the New Revised Standard Version of Matthew 25:45. Jesus was explaining to his followers that, when they feed or clothe strangers or give them a drink, they are really serving him. Or, by the same token, when they fail to help "the least of these" they are failing him.

I was reminded of this passage recently, on a hot day, when I returned home from work. The first thing I always do upon coming home is "slip into something more comfortable." For those who work with me, I know it's hard to imagine I even own something more comfortable.

Any way, on this particular day, something more comfortable was in the dryer down the hall from my bedroom. So, I scampered from the bedroom to the laundry room in my skivvies to fetch it.

Let me back up here to set the scene.

Just as it became apparent that summer was coming whether we wanted it to or not, I asked my dad to install a screen door on the front of my house. He worked diligently doing just that so I could try to draw some air into the house and conserve on cooling bills.

OK. As I was gallivanting down the hallway, I saw a young woman, probably a teen-ager, walk up my front porch steps to the screen door. I gasped and darted into the laundry room.

"Excuse me, ma'am," she said. "Could I have something to drink?"

My thoughts immediately went to an east Batesville woman who was nearly killed by intruders earlier this year. Two men came to her house, asked for a drink, entered the house, bound the lady and dragged her around her home as they looked for money. She was very lucky to have escaped out a back door when they weren't looking.

As far as I knew, this young woman on my porch had some thug waiting out of sight to knock me on the head and take whatever they could from my home, leaving me for dead.

"What do you need?" I shouted out at her.

"What do you got?"

That didn't sound right. So I hollered back, "I'm sorry. I don't think I can help you."

"Water?" she pressed.

Time to think again.

"OK," I said. "Can you back off a bit? Just back up some. I'm running around in my underwear here. Give me a minute."

She turned her back on the house, and I threw something on. From there, I went to the kitchen and grabbed an expendable plastic cup out of the cabinet. I opened the screen door just wide enough to hand her the cup while saying, "Here's a cup. The water from the faucet over on that side of the house is much colder than from the sink any way. Just undo the hose and help yourself."

Without uttering a word, she took the cup and disappeared around the side of the house. I heard the hose come on as I was closing the screen door and metal front door. I didn't see where she went after that, and that made me a bit more nervous.

Reflecting on the chain of events and pondering all the bracelets and clothing that pose the question "WWJD" (What would Jesus do?), I wondered if I'd done the right thing. It's hard to say what was right or wrong in this situation. I felt justified that I didn't invite the person in and offer her a Diet Pepsi or a Kool-Aid or an Old Milwaukee Light for heaven's sake. Personal safety has to be an issue considered now-a-days.

Then again, in Luke 10:25-37, the Bible asks who is our neighbor? Whoever needs us really, according to the parable of the Good Samaritan.

Did I do the right thing? Well, I may not have been overly friendly, but I did meet the young woman's need, and that was only for something to quench her thirst.

I didn't find the cup outside anywhere. Hopefully, she took it with her so that she can stop in at another faucet on her path in case she gets thirsty again.

Julie M. Fidler is news director for W.R.D. Entertainment. She can be reached by e-mail at [email protected].

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Family Trips to Branson Come Full Circle

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June 25, 2003

Remembering Locally Produced TV Programs

June 25, 2003

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About Meeting Mr. Green Jeans ...

Summer Calls For Frosty Drinks

Summer Calls For Frosty Drinks

Family Vacations Ain't What They Used to Be

Family Vacations Ain't What They Used to Be

Does Vehicle Make the Mom?

Does Vehicle Make the Mom?

Reunion is Touching Moment in History

Reunion is Touching Moment in History

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Poetry Phobia Nearly Leads to Paddling

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From 2 Sheds to Mowing Lawn Nude

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Grandpa Cussed His Favorite Team

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Honest Ramblings for Area Students

Honest Ramblings for Area Students

Dad's Memory of Property Differs

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Obscure References Confound Whippersnappers

Obscure References Confound Whippersnappers

Manners Class Made Me What I Am Today

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Transcript From Donny Osmond Interview

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Rockin' Nun Hit Big Time in 1974

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Confessions of a Gong Show Fan

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Brothers Gibb More Than Just Disco

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'70s Web Site Leads to Odd Situations

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Time to Look Back, Evaluate, Resolve

Time to Look Back, Evaluate, Resolve

Column Earns Writer Meal of Crow

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Dec. 4, 2002 Former '70s Teen Idol Has Perfected Voice

Legend Surrounds Driver's Ed Teacher

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Wedding Looks Different at 11

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Davy Jones Knows I Exist! *Sigh*

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A Chick in Distress and a Cop in Shining Armor

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Trying To Trace Fondness For Films

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I Had Front Row Seats ... So Na-Na Boo-Boo

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