Bill Moeller Commentary: Ramblings in Early Summer and a Pitch for Summerfest Grand Marshal


One of these days our weather will settle down and behave itself the way it used to. Remember?

For instance, the lady who used to own the mobile home I now inhabit had planted a good supply of strawberry plants. They thrived and multiplied to the point where I could expect to make at least one pie each year before their supply ran out.

After fertilizing substantially throughout the flower beds, where they usually grew substantially, I expected that. Nay — I demanded it!

Need I add the comment that I didn’t get it? 

The berries — once they showed signs of color — were tiny little things compared with previous years and any attempt to taste one caused me to throw the remains to the ground.

My son, Matthew, solved the problem when he pointed out that the lack of sufficient sunlight was to blame. And, nodding my head, I had to admit that he was right. There are a good supply of berries still showing, but their size and taste aren’t worth bending over to pick one.

Oh well. There’s always next year.

Last week, I mentioned the attempt to use my elbow to punch holes in the concrete flooring of my carport and how it proved to be impractical and only resulted in another trip to the hospital emergency room.

I left there with my arm in a sling with the command to use it during all waking hours.

Well, when you’re a bachelor with cooking, dish washing, laundry and a hungry cat to take care of, one has to expect a little cheating to appear at times.

I was feeling a trifle smug about getting away with it when I received a phone call from the orthopedic center seeking my attendance at what is known as an MRI (which stands for something, but I forget what).

I learned that it is a process taking nearly an hour and includes a near state of nudism to be effective. Being a curious sort of chap, I jotted down the time and date (last Thursday) and prepared by spending a little more effort with my daily procedure of cleanliness than usual.

Once at the orthopedic center on the time and date I was expected, I filled out a page of answers to various health questions — and that’s where the whole experience that I wanted to write about for today fell apart.

Apparently the procedure of the MRI is not compatible with a person who carries a pacemaker tucked away very close to one’s heart.

So, the experience was canceled and I returned home to watch more tennis from the Wimbledon tournament in England.

I’ve mentioned before that tennis is my favorite sport to watch, second only to Seahawks football.  Of course, by the time I returned home, the time difference had closed down the “Tennis TV” until the next day.

Perhaps I could set tomorrow’s alarm clock for, say, 4 a.m. but I won’t.

By the time you read this, the Fourth of July festivities will be a memory. I hope you attended one or more of the functions as I did along with my son and daughter-in-law.

Once again, I was reminded that I had not been chosen as grand marshal for the annual parade.

At the age of 94, I can’t just sigh and think, “Oh well, there’s always next year.”

Many — or most of you — can’t remember that I am the only person still living today who was elected mayor of Centralia by a vote of the citizens instead of having the city council choose one of their own to hold the title.

That should be worth something, right?


Bill Moeller is a former entertainer, mayor, bookstore owner, city council member, paratrooper and pilot living in Centralia. He can be reached at