After I finished the three-part series on Seminary Hill’s reservoirs that were once there and the wooden pipeline that carried the water from the North Fork of the Newaukum River to them, I thought of a way to describe the magnitude of that project. It would be like being given a pick and shovel, and told to dig a large ditch from Harrison Avenue to just past the Maytown exit on Interstate 5.
It’s been awhile since I’ve passed along any goofs made by TV’s closed caption process, so I’ll make up for the absence with three. The first was a reference to Tacoma’s “tight” flats, not tide flats. Not really funny, unless you have a weird mind. The second concerned the police in Las Vegas who arrested a group of motorcyclists for driving in a “wreckless” manner. Hey, I thought that was the way you were SUPPOSED to drive.
The third one concerned a decision to be made by the Olympics Committee about allowing Russia to compete this year. As printed, though, it became a ruling to decide whether “to let the Russians come pee.”
I’ll confess that I didn’t know it was an Olympic sport. How is it judged, on altitude, distance or volume achieved? Is it a spectator sport, by the way? I think I’d prefer watching beach volleyball, myself. And I wonder if there’s an Olympic record for “holding it.”
It’s time for the summertime curmudgeon to make a showing. Any man who is at least 60 years old will agree that modern technology has deprived the male youths of today one of their finest resources for pleasure and entertainment. I’m referring to the automobile inner tube.
Is there an old man still living who didn’t cut that tube into strips to fit on the forked branch that he’d been saving since April to make a slingshot? I thought not. A version of surgical tubing has taken its place these days, but it’s not the same. Just ask any old-timer.
There was never a better flotation device made than an inner tube that had been patched too many times to trust putting it back on the car. Lake or stream, it was part of growing up. Even as an adult, it was a perfect flotation device for a foam cooler containing the beverage of one’s choice, while floating down a placid stream such as the Skookumchuck River, provided it was securely tethered to a participant’s tube.
Such an excursion, which, I admit, I’ve experienced in recent years (OK, so it was 20 or more years ago) must be done early enough in the year to avoid bumping one’s butt severely on the unforgiving boulders that line the bottom of the stream.
The annual pie auction at the old Claquato church Sunday went off well. At least it didn’t rain while I was there. My part in it was with my son, attempting to draw people to their seats through the efforts of my singing. That can be difficult when you’re 88 and limit your repertoire to songs of the 1920s.
The singing went OK; it was the banter between songs, and the lapses of memory therein that caused some problems. Imagine suddenly drawing a blank on the name of Judy Garland! Oh well, those of you old enough to remember who Eddie Cantor was have probably experienced a similar occurrence a time or two.
The next attempt to expose my musical shortcomings will be my usual appearance, Wednesday, Aug. 17, (Senior Citizens Day) at 5 p.m. on the South Stage of the Southwest Washington Fair.
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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.
