Remember the poem by Lewis Carroll that has the verse that reads, “The time has come, the Walrus said, to speak of many things; of shoes and ships and sealing wax, of cabbages and kings, and why the sea is boiling hot, and whether pigs have wings.”
So, let’s speak of many things. Many people think that’s the beginning of a poem by Lewis Carroll who wrote “Alice in Wonderland,” but it’s really the 11th verse out of an 18-verse poem included in Carroll’s “Alice through the Looking Glass.” It seems to me I remember reading that book to my children, or at least the poem, but as Mark Twain said, “I can remember all things, whether they actually happened or not.”
Go ahead, check the book out of Timberland Regional Library and indulge yourself in a guilty pleasure you’ll remember for a long time. I’ve pulled my own copy out of the bookshelves to read again.
All that is a preface to a few items from the “this & that” pile on my desk.
For instance, why is there such a hullabaloo about the loss of all of those fish from the hatchery on the Cowlitz River? I mean, there are only three places they could be, aren’t there? They’re either underground, above ground or in the water so I don’t see why they’re being classified as lost.
If they were underground, there’d be evidence of their interment. If they were above ground, our nostrils would have already detected that. If they’re in the water… hey, wasn’t that they were supposed to be in the first place?
OK, so it’s a bookkeeping error, and somebody has to be blamed. That’s the way government agencies work.
On another topic, while I generally agree with the reasons that many citizens are protesting any action by President Trump, I can only ask, “Where were all these people when the ballots were being counted?”
I recently added another bumper-sticker to the tailgate of my small pickup. It’s a quotation from the ancient Greek philosopher, Plato. Over 2,400 years ago he said, “The price of apathy is to be ruled by evil men.” Almost sounds like yesterday, doesn’t it?
Elsewhere, there’ve been several items recently about the Japanese family from Adna who were interred through World War II. I’ll admit that calling the initial facility on the Puyallup fairgrounds “Camp Harmony” was a cruel bit of sarcasm.
After I wrote that, I proceeded to write a scathing list of atrocities committed by the Japanese against Americans during the war, but there’s no need to cause anybody nightmares, so I erased them all. Some of us will never forget, though.
Not too long ago I met a young man in his early ’60s whom I hadn’t seen since my wife and I held him over a baptismal font as his godparents. We moved to Wenatchee shortly after that. I’m sure some people would say that levity was not appropriate after a memorial service for his mother, but he was pointed out to me and I couldn’t resist; I walked up to him and in a quiet, low, husky voice whispered, “I’m your godfather.”
It wasn’t original. His mother had once done the same thing to my son, Matthew, when he was playing a gig at a Tall Ships Festival in Tacoma. Incidentally, he (Andy) has written a book about the early days of hydroplane racing in the Northwest. It’s called “At the Ragged Edge,” by A. J. Muntz and is available through Amazon. Anyone who remembers Bill Muncey or Mira Slovak would enjoy it.
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Bill Moeller is a former entertainer, mayor, bookstore owner, city council member, paratrooper and pilot living in Centralia. He can be reached at bookmaven321@comcast.net.
