Silly Songs

Today is the day that I stop procrastinating writing this blog. Ok, I started ta dah!
I know better then to say “La tee dah!” That is another story reserved for daddy.
For months I have been thinking about the songs I learned as a child. I confess they come out, but unlike the Disney films they never go back, into the vault. Most of them I learned from my grandparents and a classmate at MHSN named Phyllis, from near Bridgeboro, NJ.
One of the first songs I remember was one Grandpa Whitcher sang about musical instruments. I remember him doing the motions of the trombone. It took a while and some German phonetic spelling but I finally found the music and lyrics to Johnny Schmoker. Just for giggles try looking up Johnny Smoker on Google. Do not let you young child attempt that query. But feel free to let your mind wander down psychedelic paths.
I think it is a grandparent’s duty to teach the grandchildren every nonsense song possible. Gramps taught me PG versions of the Gal from Halifax and “Down went Mc Ginny”….The real name is Mc Ginty and I guess he is still very wet, because I am sure they have not found them yet.
Honey, my paternal grandmother taught first grade. There were times I got to go to school with her. Boy do I remember several songs such as “The Mexican Woodpecker” and “My little red wagon”.
Tessie, my maternal grandmother did not sing, but I leaned how to make Spanish cream and talk to green lights. “Thank you Mr. Green light for staying green” etc. Do no knock it, it works.
One source I forgot to credit was MAD magazine. Every year before our annual pilgrimage to what ever location, my older brother, Rob would buy an issue. The songs inside were terrific. We sang them for hundreds of miles. Some of the most memorable were Hello Deli, sung to the tune of Hello Dolly, Bad Bad Matches, sung to Frère Jacque, and “Iodine” sung to the tune of “Oh My Darling, Clementine.
My last source is probably the most memorable When I arrived at Methodist Hospital School of Nursing in September 1972, (DO NOT COUNT THE YEARS), I met Phyllis. Phil was from Delran NJ, I lived in Bridgeton when I was a wee lass. These towns were separated by route, pronounced root, 130. I have to credit many silly songs about fords, syphilis test results, the rooster song and best of all the “Why don’t they sing about Jersey?” song.
Someday, when I grow up, if you are good, I will teach these song to your children. Okay just because I love you I will print some of these lyrics. I think I will not violate the copyright laws because I have credited them above.

WHY DON'T THEY TALK ABOUT JERSEY?
Why don’t they talk about Jersey where the sun shines all the time?
They talk about girls from Georgia and the girls from Caroline.
Well the girls from Georgia are peaches and the girls from Carolina are fine.
Why don’t they talk about Jersey where the big fat tomatoes grow…ta da da da da
WHERE THE BIG FAT TOMATOES GROW!

Mad magazine…From this Valley (sung to the tune of Red River Valley.
From this valley they say you are leaving.
They are building a freeway they say.
It will cut by you home and will just leave,
your split ranch which is 12 feet away.

Do not play with the funny explosives
Do not play with those dynamite caps.
Otherwise you will find like the freeways.
You’ll be spread out all over the maps.

Thank you Pat for this message

WHAT HAPPENS IN HEAVEN WHEN WE PRAY?




I dreamed that I went to Heaven and an angel was showing me around. We walked side-by-side inside a large workroom filled with angels. My angel guide stopped in front of the first section and said, 'This is the Receiving Section. Here, all petitions to God said in prayer are received.

I looked around in this area, and it was terribly busy with so many angels sorting out petitions written on voluminous paper sheets and scraps from people all over the world.

Then we moved on down a long corridor until we reached the second section.

The angel then said to me, "This is the Packaging and Delivery Section. Here, the graces and blessings the people asked for are processed and delivered to the living persons who asked for them." I noticed again how busy it was there. There were many angels working hard at that station, since so many blessings had been requested and were being packaged for delivery to Earth.

Finally at the farthest end of the long corridor we stopped at the door of a very small station. To my great surprise, only one angel was seated there, idly doing nothing. "This is the Acknowledgment Section, my angel friend quietly admitted to me. He seemed embarrassed." How is it that there is no work going on here? ' I asked.

"So sad," the angel sighed. "After people receive the blessings that they asked for, very few send back acknowledgments"

"How does one acknowledge God's blessings? " I asked..

"Simple," the angel answered. Just say, "Thank you, Lord. "

"What blessings should they acknowledge?" I asked.

"If you have food in the refrigerator, clothes on your back, a roof overhead and a place to sleep you are richer than 75% of this world. If you have money in the bank, in your wallet, and spare change in a dish, you are among the top 8% of the world's wealthy. "

"And if you get this on your own computer, you are part of the 1% in the world who has that opportunity."

"If you woke up this morning with more health than illness .. You are more blessed than the many who will not even survive this day. "

"If you have never experienced the fear in battle, the loneliness of imprisonment, the agony of torture, or the pangs of starvation ... You are ahead of 700 million people in the world."

"If you can attend a church without the fear of harassment, arrest, torture or death you are envied by, and more blessed than, three billion people in the world."

"If your parents are still alive and still married ...you are very rare."

"If you can hold your head up and smile, you are not the norm, you're unique to all those in doubt and despair......."

Ok, what now? How can I start?

If you can read this message, you just received a double blessing in that someone was thinking of you as very special and you are more blessed than over two billion people in the world who cannot read at all.

Have a good day, count your blessings, and if you care to, pass this along to remind everyone else how blessed we all are

ATTN: Acknowledge Dept.
"Thank you Lord, for giving me the ability to share this message and for giving me so many wonderful people with whom to share it. "

If you have read this far, and are thankful for all that you have been blessed with, how can you not send it on ????

I thank God for everything, especially my family and friends!!!

Addition to the dictionary....

New word for the 2011 or 12 addition to Uncle Nat's Webster...Crowtheresque...In the Crowther manner. John asked me if I mailed Aunt Dorothy's Birthday gifts today. (Please note: Left arm had surgery last week with steri strips etc. DO NOT MOVE it much...Right arm is in a immobilized from shoulder surgery the same day.) I am not asking for sympathy..I am trying to help defined the new word...I told John I rode my bicycle and took the package to the post office...He said "that was Crowtheresque". I do not have a bicycle.
Tapping a picture frame to straighten it with a glasses case instead of standing up and straightening it with a T square is Crowtheresque.
The gifts will be mailed soon, her 99th is the 24th....meanwhile, I will continue to work on my French...
BAH!

Blue sky rants.

The sky is cloudless; I do not remember seeing this shade of blue for months. Since it is such a pretty day and to show my appreciation for the day I will write. It has been a while since I blogged. Oh that term sounds a bit like regurgitation. BLLLLLLLLLLOGGGGGGGG!
Does anyone have a mint?
Seriously where do these new terms come from? I think a blog is a simple venting of the spleen. Please consider this as my free ride on the venting coaster.
New terms mess with my feeling of well being. Admittedly, that is not a hard task. Terms such as “HD”, “LMAO” and “EDUMACATION” are obvious. (Thank you for the latter term Whitney.) Medical terms were a pain to learn; they continue to exist in a rather remote filling cabinet in the back of my pumpkin head. I apologize as this verbiage tends to appear frequently in any form of communication. (I resisted the use of cranium, whoa.) I do admit to being stumped with some of the language of texting and facebook.
Grammar issues, for goodness sake …. Go see the movie and write a 200 word essay.
Spelling excused. God has given us a tool. It is called spell check. Someday it will come to facebook without passing through the den of foxfire. There is an exception to the rule, type out the words…goodness; for example “u” does not read any faster then the word “you.” I am prone to tsk the writer using such spellings. Do you really want to hear me tsk? Admittedly, it is not as unsettling as a “humph”, but you get the point.
Somehow the world considers brand names a blanket description for the word. I have learned asking what type of carbonated beverage will stall the progress of satiation of thirst. If someone asks for a coke, they will get a coke-cola. Likewise if they as for a Kleenex, I will bypass three boxes of puffs to find the correct brand. In an effort to be inclusive I agree with the term band aid. I could bleed to death asking for an adhesive strip.
I am going to keep this rant short because I want you to enjoy the sunny day, take a walk and absorb some vitamin D. Oops I did it again.

Bulbs

I see you peeping

Cover your little head

There is snow tonight

Wanamaker memories

The Eagle at Wanamaker’s was always a meeting place. I can remember going to Philadelphia on the subway from Camden. Mom would walk us down Stevens Street. We would turn right on Broadway and catch the subway. This was prior to the high speed line and the turnstiles were really wooden. The driveway and the house no longer exist. We lived at 309 South 6th Street in Camden. I think this is now the green area of Cooper University Medical Center. This is where I started school (Broadway); saw escargot in baskets, poultry hanging by the neck and where I learned that a store with a neon pretzel does not sell pretzels.
There were times I remember ducking under while the older people put the token in the slot and walked through. The train went over the Benjamin Franklin, past Whitman Chocolate and Old Saint George’s. It was a great view. Campbell’s Soup was on the going home side of the bridge a little further down the Delaware River. We would stop at 8th and Market to shop at Lit Brothers. Dad worked at Lit’s when he was at Penn so it was considered a pilgrimage. After we shopped a while we went to Strawbridge and Clothiers which was across Market Street. We dressed to go to shopping. I remember being cold in my dress, my winter coat, anklets and Shapiro’s shoes. Even though I was cold the walk to Wanamaker’s was full of wonderful sights.
I remember the sights and smells of Reading (RED-ing) market. We seldom ate at the market because we were headed for the Cranberry Room at Wanamaker’s. We met my paternal grandmother, Honey, and headed for lunch. I have many memories of the restaurant. It had deep cranberry walls and starched white tablecloths and napkins. I think the favorite menu item was a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. The water in Philadelphia had a funny taste to it. My sister and I were dress alike in either in a Nova Scotia Tartan or Royal Stewart pleated skirt. All I remember was the stupid straps. After lunch we would get into the elevator (there were walls of elevators).The nice man in the maroon uniform would take us to any floor we wanted. Sometimes, if we were lucky we would be on the main floor when the organ was playing. At Christmas there was a neon light show, narrative story and organ music. Oh to be able to see that huge green board with all the tubes and see that organ. While I was checking some facts, and looking for some pictures I found out, maybe reminded, both the eagle and the organ came from the St. Louis State Fair.
As I grew older we moved away from the Philadelphia area. I came back to the Philly after high school to go to nursing school. Oh what fun it was on the subway and/or subway surface cars going to classes at Penn. Lunch was usually at Pagano’s and Roberta Flack’s song “Killing Me Softly” was playing in the background.
There were times I left Methodist early enough to scoot into Wanamaker’s and grab something prior to transferring to the line that would take me to a lab or class. After graduation I was able to shop in a more relaxed way. I think my second credit card was Wanamaker’s. I know the first on was Strawbridge and Clothier. The purchases I remember making at Wanamaker’s were a shirt and tie for a good friend (pale yellow Cutlass Classic Convertible) who was graduating from medical school. (Jefferson). The other treasure I bought was violin music books. There was a wonderful assortment of music books. I spent hours rummaging through the stacks. I finally settled on a bluegrass and something else book. Three months later I accidently took the books out with the newspaper. I still miss the memory, not the books.
Watching the video of the random acts of culture churned up numerous memories for me. I am sorry there was nothing like this locally for the girls to know and love. Thank you so much to all those who sang and the foundation for bringing the spontaneity back into center city. The facebook friends who posted the link will never really know the joy it brought.
I cannot dwell on what the wrecking ball of change has destroyed but I can still remember the parsonage in Camden. The wrought iron fence around the yard, feeding pennies to the parking meters so the policeman would not give tickets to those parked. Decorating the front porch of the parsonage with the bishop’s funeral flowers was a highlight. Climbing the vertical iron railing was a blast. I think we entertained the patients at Cooper Hospital. I still remember listening to Mr. Mason play the bells in the tower and the smell of Ralph the caretaker’s tea. Camden was a great memory mom and dad. I promise never to throw toys out the third story window again.

Thank Pat for sending on this email--sad but true

What about American exceptionalism? When you need a solution, you send for an American company who has the expertise. Do our leaders give credit where due? NO NO NO.

Wonder why?


Far be it for an American President to publicly congratulate (let alone even mention) AMERICAN ingenuity and AMERICAN PRIVATE ENTERPRISE for the miracle
rescue of the Chilean Miners.

Schramm Inc.quot;sans-serif"; color: black;"> of West Chester , Pennsylvania built the drills and equipment used to reach the trapped miners.


Center Rock Company, also from Pennsylvania , built the drill bits used to reach the miners.

UPS, the US shipping company, delivered the 13-ton drilling equipment from Pennsylvania to Chile in less than 48 hours.

Crews from Layne Christensen Company of Wichita Kansas and its subsidiary Geotec Boyles Bros. worked the drills and machinery to locate and reach the miners and then enlarge the holes to rescue them.

Jeff Hart of Denver Colorado was called off his job drilling water wells for the U.S. Army's forward operating bases in Afghanistan to lead the drilling crew that reached the miners.

Atlas Copco Construction Mining Company of Milwaukee , Wisconsin provided consulting on how to make drilling equipment from different sources work together under differing pressure specifications.

Aries Central California Video of Fresno California designed the special cameras that were lowered nearly a mile into the ground sending back video of the miners.

Zephyr Technologies of Annapolis Maryland , made the remote monitors of vital signs that miners wore during their ascent.

NASA Engineers designed the " Phoenix " capsule that miners would be brought to the surface in, and provided medical consulting, special diets and spandex suits to maintain miners' blood pressure as they were brought back to the surface.

Oh, and Canadian-based Precision Drilling Corp. and South-African company Murray & Roberts, drilled backup rescue shafts in case the American rig failed. Which it didn't.
And in the same mailing, this from another friend:
Below a few points of general interest regarding the recent rescue in Chile .
While the White House may not believe in American exceptionalism, I'm thinking there's a whole bunch of people in Chile that would agree.

Regarding the mine rescue, did you know:

The guy that designed the rescue module was a NASA Engineer?

The Drill was made by Schramm Inc. from Pennsylvania .

The Drill Bits were made by Center Rock, Inc. located in Berlin , Pennsylvania .

The lead driller Jeff Hart and his team are from Denver , Colorado . They are on loan from the US Military in Afghanistan where they are drilling water wells for our Forward Operating Bases.

He spent the next 33 days on his feet, operating the drill that finally provided a way out Saturday for 33 trapped miners. "You have to feel through your feet what the drill is doing; it's a vibration you get so that you know what's happening," explained Hart.

Hart was called in from Afghanistan, "simply because he's the best" at drilling larger holes with the T130's wide-diameter drill bits, Stefanic said.

Standing before the levers, pressure meters and gauges on the T130's control panel, Hart and the rest of the team faced many challenges in drilling the shaft. At one point, the drill struck a metal support beam in the poorly mapped mine, shattering its hammers. Fresh equipment had to be flown in from the United States and progress was delayed for days as powerful magnets were lowered to pull out the pieces.

The mine's veins of gold and copper ran through quartzite with a high level of abrasive silica, rock so tough that it took all their expertise to keep the drill's hammers from curving off in unwanted directions. "It was horrible," said Center Rock President Brandon Fisher, exhausted after hardly sleeping during the effort.

Fisher, Stefanic and Hart called it the most difficult hole they had ever drilled, because of the lives at stake.

"If you're drilling for oil and you lose the hole, it's different. This time there's people down below," Stefanic said.

"We ruined some bits, worked through the problems as a team, and broke through," Hart said. "I'm very happy now."

Miners' relatives crowded around Hart on Saturday, hugging and posing for pictures with him as he walked down from the rescue operation into the tent camp where families had anxiously followed his work.

"He's become the hero of the day," said Dayana Olivares, whose friend Carlos Bugueno is one of the miners stuck below.

In a different day and age, Jeff Hart would be the most famous American in our country right now. He would be honored at the White House. Schoolchildren would learn of his skill and heroism. But because Jeff Hart works in an industry currently being demonized by (insert name for the clowns currently running our country) more people in Chile will celebrate this symbol of American greatness than in America itself.



Where were the Chinese, Russians, French, Iranians, or any of the big mouths I hear sounding off nearly every day ?