A Collection of Memories

By Allen M. Woods

Lloyd looks out of his office window and sees the airplane hit the WTC.

Eric comes out of the closet to tell about his gay life, Bob gives us an insight into the life of a Moonie, the surgeon general of the United States receives her walking papers from the president, childhood memories of nonsensical rhymes, neighborhood stories, a little gossip, and a few smoke dreams are but a few of the memories included.

Many events are true stories as told to me by the original source, and others are hearsay. Some stories have been passed down through generations, becoming memories as they traveled. Credit to the original author has been acknowledged where possible. Any omission of credit to an author is unintentional. Some material was checked on Google, but the source was not always available. Real names have been used where permission was granted and pseudonyms for others.

A small part of these memories appeared in This I Remember, a self-published memoir.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 28, 2014
• ISBN: 9781499057294

Allen M. Woods

Allen M. Woods is a professor emeritus of Indiana University of Pennsylvania. He was a member of the armed forces of World War II, serving in the US Navy with duty in both the European and Pacific theaters. He and his wife, Elizabeth, live in Springmoor, a delightful retirement community in Raleigh, North Carolina. He says, “My days are full of pleasant activity, but I admit that retirement is hard work.” Tai Chi, daily exercise classes, a dip in the lap pool, committee assignments in the Springmoor community, and participation in the senior group at his church make a busy and fulfilling schedule. He also enjoys an active correspondence with a host of friends, former colleagues, and many former students and Theta Chi fraternity brothers. His hobby is reading and writing, but dislikes arithmetic.

Book preview

Copyright © 2014 by Allen M. Woods.

Library of Congress Control Number:         2014913689

ISBN:      Hardcover            978-1-4990-5730-0

               Softcover               978-1-4990-5731-7

               eBook                     978-1-4990-5729-4

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 07/30/2014

Xlibris LLC

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

614173

CONTENTS

Introduction

RECOLLECTIONS

Before I Forget

Morning Delight

How Sad

The Pineapple

You Have Got To Believe!

It’s What You Scatter

MEMORIES

Growing Old

Senior Citizen Beats Inflation

Taps

Retirement From A Child’s View

Everything Is Wonderful

Old Person Pride

SEX AND OTHER DISTRACTIONS

Human Sexuality

Homosexuality

Masturbation

Jack Off

Miss-Conception

NONSENSE

Old Farts

Valuable Information

Drinking And Driving

MILITARY MEMORIES

Flight Of Honor

Iowa Farm Boy Goes To Sea

Now Hear This

Heavenly Spice

Other Ship Tales

MORE NONSENSE

A Glass Of Wine

Doctor’s Orders

Demon Alcohol

Napa Valley Vintner

Health Warning

REFLECTIONS

Ponderisms

How Was Your Day?

Musings

Hug Someone Today

The Cracked Pot

The Biker And Moshe

Dawn Is Breaking

MEDITATIONS

Prayers, Invocations, And Meditations

PERSONAL MEMORIES

My Nephew… A Moonie!

Outside The Closet

My Day—9/11

TALES OUT OF SCHOOL

The Talk Of The Town

FOOTPRINTS

Different Strokes

SMOKE DREAMS

George Burns

Said The Doctor

Remembering

VIGNETTES

Dean Of Glass

BACK THEN

In The Valley

FOOD MEMORIES

Let Us Talk Food

Food Folk Fables

Christmas At Horne’s

INSPIRATION

Murder In The Stained-Glass Studio

Acknowledgments

Dedicated to my family:

Elizabeth, Duncan, Valerie, Paul, and Eric

INTRODUCTION

Lloyd looks out of his office window and sees the airplane hit the WTC.

Eric comes out of the closet to tell about his gay life, Bob gives us an insight into the life of a Moonie, the surgeon general of the United States receives her walking papers from the president, childhood memories of nonsensical rhymes, neighborhood stories, a little gossip, and a few smoke dreams are but a few of the memories included.

Many events are true stories as told to me by the original source, and others are hearsay. Some stories have been passed down through generations, becoming memories as they traveled. Credit to the original author has been acknowledged where possible. Any omission of credit to an author is unintentional. Some material was checked on Google, but the source was not always available. Real names have been used where permission was granted and pseudonyms for others.

A small part of these memories appeared in This I Remember, a self-published memoir.

Here is my collection of memories!

Be mindful that happiness isn’t based on possessions, power, or prestige, but on relationships with people we like and respect. Remember that while money talks, Moose Tracks ice cream sings!

**

WE IS FRIENDS

You smile—I smile

You hurt—I hurt

You cry—I cry

You jump off the bridge

I gonna miss your e-mails

—Unknown

RECOLLECTIONS

BEFORE I FORGET

This book has been written over a short period of time, but it includes a lifetime of memories. Forgive me if I ramble, but it is difficult to sweep away the long-collected cobwebs in order to bring forth memories of times long past, and I have never been this old before, and I had forgotten how much strain there is in remembering.

Mama always admonished us about telling tales out of school, but this is what I intend to do. No mother, teacher, or wife looking over my shoulder saying, You can’t write that. It’s gossip. Gossip is great; it adds spice to life. It’s in here. Sex is a pleasure; birds do it, animals do it, and so do humans. It’s in here. Family secrets, mine and some you will recognize from your past. So read on and enjoy my memories.

MORNING DELIGHT

My morning walk was a little extra early on this bright spring day, so I thought I would add a couple extra blocks to the normal route. I was just about to turn the corner when halfway down the block, I saw Henry Lightner leaving the house of Margo Pennington. I stopped and pretended to look the other direction as Henry really looked like he was sneaking off that widow’s porch and heading away from me. I sort of sauntered down the street keeping Henry in view until he got in his Ford Convertible, which was parked two blocks beyond. Wow! I could hardly wait to get to the coffee klatch to relate my sighting. The coffee klatch was a group of eight or ten guys, all members of the Fifth Street Methodist Church, who met each morning at the café for coffee and have a discussion of world affairs (and gossip). Whoever said men don’t gossip has never met these guys. Now let me be fair, there was nothing wrong with Widow Pennington entertaining a male guest, and Henry Lightner was a good choice. He is a good-looking chap, a solid position with a brokerage firm, and a leader in the community, but he is also a married man with two teenage children. I guess there’s a little bit of a Payton Place in every community.

HOW SAD

The tragic story of the Wayne Phillips family: They lived in the little village that I grew up in. The son, Gerald, was a classmate in elementary school and a good crawdaddy fisherman with me. Well, his father, Wayne, was the manager of the small bank on Main Street (there really was only one business street in town). I doubt if there was a soul in town that would not have trusted Wayne with their life savings. On this fatal day, the bank inspectors came in the front door of the bank as Wayne rushed to the basement and put a gun to his temple and pulled the trigger. My memory says that the story put forth was that Wayne had been doctoring the books for several years, living way beyond his legal income.

The family moved to escape the gossip and to grieve in private. Several years passed, Grace, the daughter, was still living at home when the house caught fire and she perished. I had enlisted in the navy and was overseas by this time. Gerald, my fishing buddy, became a navy pilot, and on a training flight, his plane crashed and he was killed.

All that was left of this beautiful family was the mother. I have never known what became of her, and I don’t want to know for fear she might have completed the cycle of death.

THE PINEAPPLE

In the mid-1800s there was a large demand for whale oil to light the lamps of civilization and whalebone stays to stiffen the ladies’ corsets. (You young’uns probably never heard of a corset, but just ask your grandmother or any lady over eighty about them.) The promise of wealth for those who could supply these products lured the whalers to pursue the migrating whales plentiful in the Pacific. After months of harpooning these giant sea mammals, the crews would return to their home ports. Because they had been gone for several months, it was the custom to bring an exotic gift home. The most favored gift to bring back was a succulent golden pineapple fruit, unlike anything else grown in America.

To announce the safe return and invite the passerby to enjoy the hospitality of his safe homecoming, the whaler would spear a pineapple and place it in front of the house entryway. Thus, the pineapple became a symbol of hospitality that was extended to one and all. Even today, the pineapple still adorns many bedposts, chandeliers, table lamps, and formal invitations as a symbol of hospitality.

So the next time you are enjoying this flavorful fruit, remember it represents the apex of hospitality, as well as satisfaction to the taste buds.

YOU HAVE GOT TO BELIEVE!

Years ago, KDKA radio station in Pittsburgh carried a show called Ed and Wendy King. This husband-and-wife duo discussed many interesting topics. The one I remember is about the superstition of shaking your empty purse at a full moon. You were to swing your purse in a circle three times and say fill it up each time. Within a short period of time, you would receive some unexpected money. How do I remember this? My wife carries out this act of who knows it might work every full moon. If she has come into an unexpected fortune, I was never told.

IT’S WHAT YOU SCATTER

I was at the corner grocery store buying some early potatoes. I noticed a small boy, delicate of bone and feature, ragged but