Moeller Commentary: Are There Ghosts in the House?

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As I’ve written before, there’s no problem finding something to write about week after week. All one has to do is read this newspaper and then remember what you did with all the items you cut out and put aside.

As you might have suspected, that’s my problem this week. I know I had three or four such items on my desk, but the only clipping I can find as I sit down to write this is an item about problems with Bigleaf maples from last November, and that’s no help at all! That leads me to the conclusion that my problem is either 1) ghosts, or 2) Somnambulism (go ahead, look it up).  A third possibility which has already been discarded is: Could my live-in companion, Zelda — she of the Siamese feline persuasion — have developed new capabilities?

Anyway, things at chez Moeller keep turning up missing — things which have always been kept in specific places in case of emergencies.  

OK, another possibility is senility. Sure, I’ll admit I’ve opened the refrigerator door and then stood there wondering what I was looking for, but that goes with the territory, as they say.

I won’t say that I don’t believe in ghosts, mainly because of an otherwise unexplained incident that occurred the first evening we moved into our old house on the Curtis Hill Road. I might write about it some day or, perhaps I’ve already done so and just forgotten it? But, I don’t think whoever — or whatever — was responsible for that incident has followed me to Nylandia Park. 

So, let’s switch to a myriad of more pleasant things. For example, on days when I felt the weather wasn’t warm enough to pull weeds and scratch dirt, I’ve watched a few Mariner games on the ROOT channel.  It’s early, but the M’s aren’t looking too bad in the won-lost column.  And Ichiro is back!  Permanently or not, the younger players can still learn a lot, just from watching him. Whenever he would hit a ball to the infield, he was about the only player who still ran at full speed all the way to first base. Other players, usually, slowed down as soon as they saw where the ball was headed. They never considered that the infielder could fumble the ball or throw it wildly to first base or that the first baseman might drop or fumble it. Ichiro never quit until his foot touched first base. 

He may or may not be on the roster on opening day, but his presence will be felt for many years. Will he be in the Hall of Fame some day? I hope so.



Turning to other items, does anyone else look back to simpler times when childhood (for a boy, at least) meant Tinker Toys and Erector Sets? Sure, we have Legos today, but it takes so gol-darned many of the things to form anything of consequence! Oh, how I envied children in a more prosperous family whose erector set came with more pieces and a small electric motor!

Another disconnected thought: Whenever I find myself mentally singing along with a song — preferably an old, bouncy one — I can’t help thinking that, if there is any truth in the theory of reincarnation, I must have once been a tuba player in a Dixieland Band.

Finally, here’s an odd memory: For the first year and a half of my high school days, I attended a boarding school in Portland as a prelude to eventual attendance at a Lutheran Seminary.  Spare change was almost unknown back then and one of the students said he’d run around the entire block, naked, for a dollar.  We chipped in enough to see him actually perform that task, with monitors standing on each corner to guarantee authenticity on his part. He passed the test, but what I’ve wondered over the years is this: Did he ever become a Lutheran minister?

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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.