It’s good to make rules, suggestions and vows at the beginning of each year.
It gives a person something to strive for, something to achieve.
It’d be even nicer if we were able to work toward them through at least the month of January, but that’s foolish and unattainable.
My vow to keep a desktop clear of minor notes to myself about possible future topics and comments never even had a chance. Those reminders are piling up already. As an example, there’s a comment I made about moonlight that needs augmenting.
My comment at the time was wondering how could sunlight be reflected to earth by the moon, when the moon’s surface consists of nothing much more than rocks and sand? That thought brought another physics question, or whatever science has control of things luminous. When the sunlight reaches us directly it has warmth — sometimes more than we want — but when that light is reflected by the moon it has none. Warmth, that is. Why?
On the last Sunday morning of each year, I make a point of watching the early morning news on CBS, because they give a tender credit to all of the well-known people who passed away during that year. One of the music greats who died in 2017 was Fats Domino, and I’ll never forget the evening he spoke to me.
To set the stage, many performers would be booked to perform one weekend in Seattle and, then, the following weekend in Spokane. The promoter often would make a booking halfway through the week somewhere between the two, and Wenatchee was the city most often chosen.
A partner and I had just put a new radio station on the air there, with younger people as our target audience, making us the recipient of all the radio advertising for each event.
I modestly appointed myself, therefore, to be the opening master of ceremonies.
In the case of Fats Domino, I spoke a few clever lines and then announced the performer and retired to the wings to wait for his appearance.
He didn’t appear.
Eventually I heard someone behind me say “excuse me.”
I turned around but saw no one and once again focused my attention to the stage. Then I heard that voice again, saying “excuse me.”
As I turned around this time, I looked down and saw the top of a head. (I was 3 inches taller in those days.) I hadn’t realized he was so short! He seemed like such a giant at the piano. Anyway, that’s how Fats Domino spoke to me.
We saw quite a few top entertainers in those days, and I got to introduce them all; Little Richard and Chubby Checker, along with others who were briefly at the top of the charts, but whose names have left my memory bank.
Changing topics, I get to return a favor. A few months ago I put out a plea for anyone who could tell me where I could find Uno candy bars. I’ve, unfortunately, lost the name of the reader who directed me to the store where the old Playquato Dance Hall used to stand. (For newcomers, that’s at the intersection of state Route 6 and Highway 603.) Thank you for the information.
I can now return the favor.
I looked in every store in the Twin Cities that sells hand soap (even breaking my Centralia allegiance and visiting Walmart) trying to find the best hand soap ever made for working men, Boraxo.
I should have stayed at home.
Greg’s True Value Hardware on Tower Avenue has it in stock!
Greg still hasn’t taken down his old “Coast to Coast” sign, but that’s another reason to love small towns.
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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.
