THE BOX

The Box ... by Lascelles Abercrombie


Once upon a time, in the land of Hush-A-Bye, around about the wondrous days of yore, they came across a kind of box, bound up with chains and locked with locks, and labeled, "Kindly do not touch; it's war."

A decree was issued round about, and all with a flourish and a shout and a gaily colored mascot tripping lightly on before.

Don't fiddle with this deadly box, or break the chains, or pick the locks.

And please don't ever play about with war.

The children understood.

Children happen to be good, and they were just as good around the time of yore.

They didn't try to pick the locks, or break into that deadly box.

They never tried to play about with war.

Mommies didn't either; sisters, aunts, grannies neither, 'cause they were quiet, and sweet, and pretty in those wondrous days of yore.

Well, very much the same as now, and not the ones to blame somehow, for opening up that deadly box of war.

But someone did.

Someone battered in the lid and spilled the insides out across the floor.

A kind of bouncy, bumpy ball made up of guns and flags and all the tears, and horror, and death that comes with war.

It bounced right out and went bashing all about, bumping into everything in store.

And what was sad and most unfair, was that it didn't really seem to care much who it bumped, or why, or what, or for.

It bumped the children mainly.

And I'll tell you this quite plainly, it bumps them every day and more, and more, and leaves them dead, and burned, and dying, thousands of them sick and crying.

'Cause when it bumps, it's really very sore.

Now there's a way to stop the ball. It isn't difficult at all.

All it takes is wisdom, and I'm absolutely sure, that we can get it back into the box, and bind the chains, and lock the locks.

But no one seems to want to save the children anymore.

Well, that's the way it all appears, 'cause it's been bouncing round for years and years, in spite of all the wisdom wizzed since those wondrous days of yore and the time they came across the box, bound up with chains and locked with locks, and labeled, "Kindly do not touch; it's war."

FRIENDLY FIRE ANTS

I love a good oxymoron -- two words, used together, which have different meanings. A favorite oxymoron is: "Military Intelligence". A double oxymoron would be: "Fresh Frozen Jumbo Shrimp".

Fire Ants are NOT friendly. They are the perfect oxymoron.

Years ago, I had "encounters" with Fire Ants in Florida & again in Texas. Such a "meeting" can leave welts, pain & itching ... sometimes for several days.

In Florida, the above ground part of their "nest" is rather large, but flattened out & can "hide" if the grass around it is quite high. Not a good place to be wearing flip-flops, which is my usual foot apparel in Florida. OUCH !!

People from Texas love to say -- "Everything is bigger in Texas". Well, they got that one right, when it comes to the nests of the Fire Ants down in that state. The nests are built up HIGH. I remember a cow pasture, full of nests, in a visit one time. The nests were so high they looked like high-rise buildings in a city scape.

The ants down in Texas are not any friendlier than their relatives in Florida. Maybe that is why Texans all seem to wear boots. No flip-flops.

I remember reading about Fire Ants some time ago; explaining how the ants got here from South America in cargo ships. The article concluded the ants were a problem " .., down in the Southern states ..." but basically were restricted from moving northward due to the colder temperatures in the higher latitudes. The ants could not take conditions which include temperatures below freezing.

WRONG EINSTEIN !!

Fire Ants are in central Arkansas. They showed up in the state several years ago & moved to my property about two years ago. Maybe when they came North they wore little coats, since we get our share of cold temperatures in the Winter & the ants are surviving & multiplying.

I have to "treat" the nests when I spot them. [Not hard to see; like the Florida version, the nests tend to to be low, but easily spotted if in a viewable place. The picture above shows two nests.] I use the standard treatments found at Lowe's. Their intent is to kill the Queen Ant, which will then prevent the colony from reproducing/growing/continuing. Sometimes the applications to the nest seem to work. Other times not. It appears the ants will simply "move" the colony. They just resurface a few days later in a different part of my property.

For ... "fun" -- & to get revenge on the bites I have suffered in three states -- I some times put bleach on the nests. Another way to kill a few thousand Fire Ants is to douse the nest with boiling water. Very middle ages.

I still wear flip-flops all the time when outside at home. I try to watch were I am walking & standing when I "tour" my four acres, always on the lookout for the ... non-friendly Fire Ants.

THE WOBBLER

THE WOBBLER -- AKA "Wobs" -- is the youngest of the three cats living with me.  Her mother is Precious, the gray tabby cat I have written about previously.  Wobs was born in the second batch of kittens Precious presented me with.  Her older sister (stepsister ??) is Nibblets.  Both her & Wobs are tortoiseshell cats.

Wobs gained her name from the unpleasant event which occurred early in her life.  She was on the front porch with her five siblings one morning, when I noticed her head slowly shaking from side to side, as Wobs seemed to be walking in circles, in a very unbalanced mode.  Not normal in any kitten way.

Off to the Veterinarian we went.  While a bit under weight from being the runt of the litter, the Doctor concluded the kittens vital signs were good, but perhaps Wobs had some damage to her cranium [brain] & would most probably go through life as a ... "special kitty".

Well, THE WOBBLER  is a special cat for sure.  She is my baby & the one I hold most dear to my heart.  There is nothing wrong with Wobs that TLC & extra care did not cure.  She "talks" to me far more than the other two, & takes it as a personal challenge if another of the cats is in my lap when she wants to snuggle there.  She moves them out & takes over.

Wobs has developed into a strong, resilient cat.  It takes an effort on my part to get her into her carrier when a vet visit is in the offering.  As Wobs sleeps with me most nights, she can be a load to move in the night if she has secured her position in the middle of the bed.

Wob's "duties" include helping me with the computer -- sitting in front of it, or in my lap -- as well as taking up residence in the middle of the desk when I am sitting there. Any pens & pen caps become play items & later have to be salvaged from the floor where they end up.

While friendly with me & her "relatives", Wobs does not care for visitors to the house or property.  She will hide, or remain well away from any "newcomers".  It took two visits up from Florida by my Mother for Wobs to begin to accept Hilda. 

While all three cats bring me great joy, THE WOBBLER is truly my SPECIAL KITTY.

5K ... WHAT HAPPENED ??

I have less than a month to go until I travel over to Memphis, Tennessee to run in the 5K MEOWATHON.  As I have discussed previously, this is an annual event & I enjoy running in the race, plus knowing it sponsors one of my favorite charities; the House of Mews in Memphis.[ http://www.houseofmews.com/ ]

Having been steadily increasing my running miles in preparation for the MEOWATHON, I thought I would take advantage of a 5K run this weekend in Little Rock -- Walk/Run for the Animals & Howl-O-Ween Festival.  It sponsors the local Humane Society.  Another good cause.

I did not pre-register, so I left home this morning with the idea of being at the President Clinton Library -- where the race would be held -- a little past 8 A.M.; to pay my race fee, get a feel for where the race course would be run & join others in getting "warmed up".  [In more ways than one.  While having bright blue sky after several rainy days, it was ... ah ... "cool" -- 49 degrees.]

Let's just say things did not turn out as expected.

When I arrived about 8:10 A.M., there were very few people there.  Certainly none looking like they were geting ready to run 3.2 miles.  A few empty tables ... someone blowing up balloons ... & a few folks setting up a banner at a small platform.  Not like any of the other race events I have taken part in.

I asked around -- "What time is the race going to start" ... thinking my already old-age, fading-memory brain had the time of the race wrong. [NOTE:  A 9 A.M. start time for any Saturday morning 5K race is standard.]  Of the few people there & the ones I asked, no one knew any details.  One fella answered me the start time was "... probably 9:30/10 A.M. ... it's cold this morning.  People will be late".

I waited around until I had been there for 30 minutes.  A few more people arrived, helping with the set-up process. Still, no people who looked as if they came to run a race.  It was the time when I would normally be "warming up", if there was going to be a race.  It didn't appear to me as if there would be.

I left Little Rock & came home.  I ran instead on my usually route on the roads in my area.  I did a "personal best" on my time for my 2.5 mile course this morning.  I sure wish I could have "tested" myself in a competitive environment, as I was planning.

I am glad I didn't pre-register now for the local ... "race".  [If they ever finally had one.]  I am going to take the $25.00 it would have cost me & instead I will send it as a donation to the House of Mews.

I will keep on plugging along, running my miles, getting ready for Memphis & the MEOWATHON on Saturday, November 21st. 

I know that race WILL start at 9 A.M.

MRS. GILMORE

In my education days, which included Rochester & Honeoye, New York, & then on to Memphis, Tennessee, I crossed paths with many teachers. Some good. Some not so good. A few were very good. The "Best-of-the-Best" was Mrs. Gilmore.

Mrs. Patricia Gilmore was my 7th grade teacher at Ellwanger & Barry (#24) School in Rochester, New York. This would be about 1960. Mrs. Gilmore was dedicated, thoughtful & provided the right amount of personal attention & direction to a sometimes difficult-to-handle student ... ME.

Until I got to college, I was an average student at best. I am sure I frustrated many teachers -- especially Mrs. Gilmore -- who found me falling short of my potential. She encouraged me in many areas, disciplined me when needed & allowed me to develop in areas such as math & art.

Where I failed Mrs. Gilmore -- and myself, I was to finally realize -- was my failing to grasp & comprehend subjects which ... "didn't interest me". I was bored easily. I didn't study properly & always did enough to ... "get by".

English was a good example. I hated composition. UGH !!! I didn't care about sentence structure & I hated diagramming sentences. WHO NEEDS IT ?? I was more interested in math, science & drawing. Fun things. Subjects I knew about & didn't have to study & LEARN.

Years later -- TOO MANY YEARS -- I would have given anything to be able to go back to the 7th grade & have Mrs. Gilmore teach me all about proper writing & sentence formatting. Ah, to learn "again" [since I didn't give it my full attention at the time] about putting words on paper -- or, as now days -- in the computer ... in the proper context & meaning. It would be so much easier to learn from her ... rather than how I did learn -- "in the school of hard knocks".

I would love to be able to go to Mrs. Gilmore & thank her for all she taught me & for having such a wonderful memory of her. At the same time, I would want to apologize to her for my immaturity & failure to really listen to her when she said ... "You'll need to know this someday". It's only years later that I realized how much information was being given to me & how hard Mrs. Gilmore worked to be the great teacher she was. I feel I passed the grade but failed her.

The next year -- 8th grade -- everyone in my class went to Monroe High School. The following year, my family moved to Honeoye, New York. About that time, Mrs. Gilmore & her husband moved -- I believe -- to Scranton, Pennsylvania.

I often wondered what happened to this woman who shines so bright in my memory. What happened to her & how did her life turn out ?? Did she continue with her teaching career ?? Is she still alive ?? [She'd be a bit younger than Hilda, my Mother.] All questions I would love to have answers to.

Here's to Mrs. Gilmore. Many years gone from my life ... but never from my memory.

HILDA ...

Hilda is my Mother. She's 82 years old & lives in a small town northwest of Orlando, Florida. Her & my Dad -- who passed away 20 years ago -- moved there in the mid-80's from upstate New York.

My Mother was a "G.I. War Bride" from World War II. My Dad, in the military, met my Mother in England. I guess it was love at first sight. I found out a few years ago Dad popped the question a week after meeting Hilda.

Mom is very active & in great health. She does all the things the ... ah ... "experts" say to do; she exercises, eats the proper foods, doesn't smoke or drink & keeps her mind active, doing daily crossword & Sudoku puzzles. Mother drinks several cups of hot tea a day. It's good for her & very British.

My Mother is also a "knitter". If she's sitting down -- in a chair, a passenger in a car -- or even an airplane -- she has her needles & yarn. She makes everything & anything -- sweaters, afghans, gloves, hats. You name it. If it can be made from yarn -- Hilda can make it.

I sometimes worry about my Mom, living alone way down in Florida. I travel down there to see her usually twice a year. Additionally, in the Spring -- before the mosquito's start invading -- I fly her up here to spend a week with me in Arkansas.

I sometimes think of moving to Florida. If something happened to either one of us, we are not close geographically. It takes some time & planning to travel. It's not as if we lived across town from each other. It's hard to help out if you're 800 miles away.

So ... I keep the thought in my head. I know with all the rain & cold weather we have had lately -- with Winter coming soon -- the thought of ... "Floridays -- Blue Sky's & Ultra Violet Rays" ... has a larger & larger appeal.

A BEAUTIFUL, DELIGHTFUL DAY

I am sure it is ... somewhere. Not here. Not today.

It's been raining -- AGAIN. We just started to dry out from last week. It's rained all morning, sometimes quite heavy. The creek is full & flowing again & there are "ponds" all over my property.

Naturally ... the cats think they want to go outside. They go to the door, indicate they want "out", then once they do go out on the porch, they decide they want back in. Wait 15 minutes & repeat again.

Of course, the picture today is NOT today, but rather a shot of the front of my property on a much better day this past Summer. Funny ... then it was too hot. [Goldilocks, where are you ??]

It's going to be a day to stay indoors & do laundry, work at my desk & do some of the projects on my "to-do-list". There are a lot of things to get accomplished & it's a good day to do them all.

REALITY CHECK: What I will do, more than likely -- lay on the couch reading, listening to the radio. It's going to be a too dismal/dreary day to put effort into it.

One thing I will not do; check The weather Channel.  It rained.  It is raining.  It will rain.  I don't need to be reminded.

Now ... time to get a book & relax on the couch. Let it rain.