Growing up in San Francisco was great. There was always something to do and see, and one of my favorite things was going downtown with my Mom. The cable car stopped around the corner from our flat, and we rode it to the end of the line, Powell and Market Streets. Where Market Street stood directly across was the Emporium, a huge department store that my Mom loved.
On nearly every visit, we saw an older man with a green pushcart in front of The Emporium’s main entrance, selling flowers, specifically gardenias. I’ve always been fascinated by that flower (the one in the image here is from a plant I’ve nurtured at home), and each time we’d see him, I’d hound my Mom for change to buy one for her.
How gallant of me, asking my Mom for money to give her a flower that she actually paid for herself. I don’t remember if the gardenias cost a dime or a quarter, but they were top-notch, complete with a beautiful green wrapper around the stem and a pin to attach the flower to your date, in this case, my Mom. She always admired it and thanked me for such a lovely present. I loved those days with her. Thanks, Mom, for everything.
Our United States Postal Service is in a jam, and we all need to help them.
I recently read (and should have remembered) that Benjamin Franklin was our first Postmaster; he was an innovator who revived the then-Colonial Postal Service to increase efficiency and profitability. We need you, Ben, right now.
Nearly every resident of the United States is involved with the USPS and with their carriers and station staff. People in small towns, large metro areas, every state, and U.S. territories depend on them. Military and government personnel around the world depend on the USPS to help move their mail. We all need their services.
The USPS and its precursor, the United States Post Office, were essential to my family and me. My dad worked for the Post Office for more than 40 years; he had many assignments and spent most of his time in their Parcel Post unit. Along with many other changes, they don’t have Parcel Post carriers, and they don’t even call it the Post Office.
I’ve been a life-long user of “real mail.” My respect for the USPS remains solid. Nearly everyone I know in business, family, and social circles is aware of (and has received) real mail from me. I prefer handwritten notes and actual postage stamps; each envelope I drop into a USPS mailbox is a personal message from me to another person.
Today, I read an article about the USPS financial dilemma: people using 1st-Class mail is way down, which creates a huge revenue problem for the organization. In my view, now, more than ever, people need to be in touch with family and friends. Buying and using a postage stamp to send a greeting is a super investment in our USPS. Just imagine this: if 1% of the Nation’s population started buying and using stamps to aid communications, the USPS might be out of its downward spiral. I’ll send a few notes out today, so count me in. I’m happy to help.
In another post, I moaned about how hard it is to find Wheaties. The grocery shelves are crammed with sugar-loaded cereals. I’ve been looking for a replacement for Breakfast of Champions – I think I have found the perfect morning pick-me-up. I don’t know how many bottles of this it takes to become a Champion; however, I’m ready to roll. — stay tuned.
I have worked from a virtual office (home-based) for many years, so the”work from home” experience isn’t new to me. When I started working from a virtual location, companies were very suspicious; all they could think about was how they’d ensure I was working a full day. They’d also fret over issues like home safety, equipment, and the like.
Now, with zillions of folks working from home (AI, home office or not), all they need is a laptop, a strong internet connection, and a video chat app. Even with this advanced technology, video chatters spend an inordinate amount of time fussing and fiddling with connections, audio, video, and who can’t sign in. Not long ago, I was on a call with people in 3 cities in the US and 2 cities in France (our US team didn’t speak a word of French). We didn’t accomplish a single thing on that call.
Now, companies have seen the light, and working from home (or a virtual office, for purists) will be here to stay for years to come. I can tell you that over the years, I’ve worked more prolonged, more productive hours from my home office than from any office I had in New York City. It’s laughable now when I think of standing on the local train platform with an army of fellow commuters; everyone had their place to stand before boarding and a particular seat to sit in on the train. It was all controlled, and woe be it to a newcomer who sat in someone’s accustomed seat going into or out of Grand Central. Day after day, we all saw each other. What an incredible waste of time.
In my home office, I’ve always had everything anyone would need to work efficiently. Early on, I didn’t have a computer or a laptop. However, the three Kings of Communication were my fax machine, HP printer, and my trusty IBM typewriter. The typewriter probably weighed at least 35 pounds and took up 50% of my available workspace (I am using the same desk right now). The printer was also gigantic, heavy, and expensive (around $3000) as I recall.
The fax machine was my great leap forward, complete with thermal paper and all. I bought this gem from Staples for the astronomical price of $1400. Hard to believe. I was once negotiating for a position based in Hong Kong; one day, I returned home to a fax message about 10 feet long. Such progress.I’ll hold off on video calls for as long as I can, since Zoom is here to stay; I guess I’ll have to look for a new fax machine to stay competitive.
The Karate Kid duo is back in action. After watching the latest series, I’m convinced. I’m going to drag my old, creaking body parts to the Miyagi Do karate center; I’ll plead for help. I know Mr. Miyagi wouldn’t turn me down. I was going to head to the Cobra Kai Dojo, but I think that they are too badass for me. Besides, they don’t have any members my age, and I surely don’t want a tattoo.
This series is enjoyable to watch; it brings Johnny (the previous loser) and Daniel (the winner) back together for a karate-thon. In the new series, both Daniel and Johnny are in their 40’s, dying to face off again, hardly spring-chickens, but super-enthusiastic.I’ll start working out in advance of my application to Miyagi. Maybe I’ll begin tomorrow or the next day. I’ll take Tylenol just in case.
It seems people are frantic to find new things to do. Fortunately, I have a suggestion. Each year for the past 10 years, I have patiently waited for hummingbirds to return to East Tennessee so I could launch my bird-feeding project. It’s incredible that they return at all; they fly hundreds of miles to get to my bird feeder. It amazes me how this happens, and how they make their way home to my yard.
I’m careful to keep their feeder clean and filled with a combination of sugar and water in just the right proportions. For reasons known only to them, they seem to like the color red; I always have a bunch of red or pink flowers around the feeder, which must be kinda’ like a beacon for them. Every day that they are here, I take time to watch them throughout the day. I’ve stood outside, near the feeder, and occasionally a hummingbird will hover close to me. I totally love that. In return for all this free food and a friendly landing zone for them, they give me a special present each year.
With restaurants raising prices, I’ve avoided going out to eat, with few exceptions, even at the restaurants that are sparkling clean. I am completely exhausted from taking home meals from Applebee’s, Freddie’s, Jimmy John’s, KFC, Olive Garden, Food City, and Panera, to name a few. There are two “buffet” restaurants near me offering “dine-in”: China Grill and Shoney’s. While both have reasonable prices, their food is questionable; one offers a local take on Asian cuisine, and the other, Southern American. Strangely enough, the food from both places tastes much the same.
I only visit these two places when I’ve totally run out of other options; each time I do visit one or the other, I instantly regret it, vowing never to return. Closing down these options brings me to cooking for myself. I’ve always enjoyed cooking, and while I am an amateur, to say the least, I’ve cooked and served up many, many meals for guests and myself with some success. Yet, staying home 99% of the time and cooking for myself has thoroughly convinced me I am totally sick of my own cooking.
I’ve also loved all kinds of markets and stores, and in my travels, I’ve taken dozens, if not hundreds, of food-related photographs. Now, when I go to a market that I love (like Whole Foods or Trader Joe’s), I buy stuff that looks super for the moment and not-so-super when I am back home.A few minutes ago, I was thinking of heading out to lunch. I couldn’t think of one single place I’d like to go for a take-out meal, so I reached into the fridge and pulled out a hard-boiled egg. I think that was a new low for me, and I do hope that my food fog will lift, and soon.
Swan Oyster Depot in San Francisco isn’t a restaurant; it’s a world-class seafood emporium crammed into a very, very small space.Here, the Sancimino family and their trusted associates and relatives serve up the best crab, oysters, salmon, and fish that you’ll find anywhere in The City.
There’s plenty to drink and some of the best sourdough bread ever within easy reach. Once you make your way to the counter (no tables) and find a seat, the best thing to do is leave everything to your very able server. You will not be disappointed in anything.
When you do visit, ask to speak to Steve Sancimino. I’ve known him and his family since they were kids. They will take better care of you than any other restaurant servers on earth, and best of all, will recommend things they love to eat themselves!Thanks, Steve, for memories and meals.
We weren’t concerned with bottled water (or the bottles.) At home, we had kitchen and bathroom tap water and, best of all, drinking water from a hose. It all seemed fine to me. There were plenty of drinking fountains at school and in public places, and not a single person I know died from bad water. Or, by the way, ever had their “eye put out” by a pencil? No one had a car seat; seat belts were for airplanes of the future. Cars had metal bumpers that did a superb job. They actually protected passengers and prevented major damage to the car. I recall one car (I think it was a Buick) that had huge, torpedo-shaped, pointed bumpers. Now that was classy.
My mom shopped nearly every day, as did my grandmother. Like it or not, we ate everything served; if you didn’t like it, too bad. We’d sit there until the offending item was gone. While my mom’s cooking wasn’t restaurant quality, it included fresh vegetables long before boutique Fresh Market stores. Our corner grocery was the Kroger of the day. It was about one-half block from our house, and my mom regularly dispatched me for whatever we needed. My favorite thing to watch there was a gas flame thing that looked like a large Bunsen Burner. It was used to singe pin feathers off the skin of fresh chickens. We never heard of packaged chicken.
We had a super social media platform then. It was a 4-party telephone line. It was fantastic; four families sharing one phone line. Each family had their own assigned telephone ring. It’s safe to say everyone listened in on everyone else. That was instant social media without the 5G speed people want today. My thoughts on stuff like this are endless. I know there’s an army of folks who had similar experiences growing up, and it makes me very happy we are all thankful for the small things that generated big results. To all who helped me along the way, thanks!
Everyone who grew up here in the South knows about the most famous marriage of all time, an RC Cola and a Moon Pie. This is a marriage made in Heaven; giving someone a gift of them is always welcome. While it’s kinda tough to find authentic RC Cola, Moon Pies are, and always have been, made in Chattanooga, Tennessee.
One of the pandemic’s local casualties was the cancellation of the annual RC Cola Moon Pie Festival, held in Bell Buckle, Tennessee. This festival brings thousands of people to Bell Buckle every year, and while it’s rescheduled, who knows what will happen?In the meantime, my local Food City supermarket sells both items, so I am in great shape, at least for the time being.
Are we there yet? 