Posted in A&I

Nit Wit Newz

/in ,

(Nit Wit Newz is an unauthorized, often unreliable, on-line news source designed to keep Manor residents abreast of the inconsequential, trifling and superficial events that dramatically shape and inform our everyday lives here at Rogue Valley Manor.                                                                                                                                    

 Ed Note:  our roving correspondent has returned to campus, but we continue to receive bulletins from our far-flung news services.  We may have to fling this one a little farther next time.

 

PLAZA REVAMP PLAN STIRS RIFTS

           Defending Design Decisions

Residents, dining committee, interior designer at loggerheads on Plaza re-do. Sticking points abound. Should room centerpiece be movable orchid planter, or tasteful sarcophagus?  Should restaurant model be “The French Laundry,” or a K-12 cafeteria?  For walls and ceilings, some favor muted earth tones, others lean toward a monochromatic fifty-shades-of-gray.

Many fear proposed demise of banquettes and Friendship tables. Claim proponents have bias against comfortable seating and good fellowship. Outraged proponents deny charge. Disagreements spread to rotunda and restrooms as well.

Meanwhile, as disputes fester, thirty-seven sub-committees have rapidly formed to hammer out disagreements.

First sub-committee report disappointing:  Table Linen panel deadlocked on napkin fabric. Group may be sequestered until concurrence reached.

Some early progress reported.  Leak from Beverage Container Committee meeting claims proposed replacement of stem ware with Tippy Sippy Cups has been nixed.

Dining Services Committee urging rapid resolution of all sub-committee disputes.  Seek to avoid threatened large-scale food fights among increasingly militant factions.

Stay tuned.

 

—A. Looney

 

 

 

Delft Blue Houses

/in ,

A Collection

by Grant Koch

In the year 1952, KLM or Royal Dutch Airlines began a tradition of giving their first class,  and later, business class passengers, Delft blue ceramic replicas of famous houses from cities around the Netherlands.  As the collection grew, KLM added one house for every year the airline has been in business (plus some additional specials) and there are currrently 101 different  miniature houses.   Some of these contain Dutch gin Jenever (Genever), however certain countries don’t allow alcoholic beverages, hence the empty ones.  The pictured houses were collected by resident Yoka Koch during her many visits to the Netherlands to visit family and friends.

(interested in more information?  Check https://www.klmhouses.com/)

 

House #1 unidentified house in Amsterdam

===============================================================================

 

                    Houses # 2,#3,#4

  #2, Restaurant D’Vijff Vlieghen, Amsterdam, #3 Unidentified House Amsterdam, #4 Keizersgracht 127, Amsterdam

====================================================================================================

House  #48 was Rembrandt’s house Amsterdam built in 1606

====================================================================================================

 

            House # 75 was the KLM former headquarters in The Hague built in 1914.

 

=======================================================================

 

Group of houses from left to right:
#29  Leiden built in 1612  /  #28  Rotterdam  /  #35  Delft  built in 1631  / #26  the Hague  built in the 18th century  /   #32  Delft built in 1536

Word Play — The Sequel

/in ,

by Tom Conger

            Tom Conger

Moving on in the world of words, we offer more amusing contrivances which may or may not be in the common lexicon. For this installment we are indebted to Weird And Wonderful Words edited by Erin McKean (illustrations by the estimable Roz Chast), Oxford University Press 2003.

You may want to designate this writer as a nihilarian – a person who deals with things of no importance . . .
batie-bummil – a useless bungler (obsolete Scottish word) – (see: this writer…)

bromatology – a treatise on food, the kind of cookbook with recipes for food that is good for you, instead of food you actually want to eat. (bromo, btw, is Greek root for food)

cockagrice – “an unappetizing dish (to modern palates) made of an old cock and a pig boiled and roasted together.” Grice = old word for pig. (not sure if the recipe could be found in your kitchen bromatology…)

longicorn – “a kind of beetle with very long antennae, The word comes from Latin words meaning ‘long’ and ‘horn,’ and it is a good example of a word with a perfectly serviceable etymology that still sounds made-up.”

nippitate – obscure word meaning “good strong ale,” sometimes found with faux Latin endings such as nippitatum and nippitati—but rarely found in modern discourse (nor saloons) . . .

pishachi – “a female devil or ghost, especially one that dislikes travelers and pregnant women.” These rarely beset RVM residents, but we suspect possible connection of the latter propensity to current shelter-in-place strictures . . .

snollygoster – “a dishonest politician [possibly redundant], especially a shrewd or calculating one.* A connection has been proposed between this word and snallygaster, a mythical monster in Maryland invented to frighten freed slaves. However, the first evidence for snallygaster follows snollygoster by about a hundred years…” but thought you oughta know.
*(see exauctorate – “to depose or oust from office, to deprive of authority”—from the Latin)

woofits – “an unwell feeling, especially a headache; a moody depression; a hangover. In one citation this is called ‘that dread disease that comes from overeating and underdrinking”… possible connections with the year 2020 have not been ruled out . . .

Readers are encouraged to submit to The Complement their own weird/wonderful selections, including any which they may have made up themselves

Adventures of Ralph

/in

A tribute to don marquis, archy, and mehitabel

By Tom Conger

ralphie the cat was born
with only one eye he has
microopia said the vet he
is fine other than that he
was raised by a golden retriever
and thought he was a puppy and that s
why he is so mellow mannered and never
acted like a tomcat oh well i guess
it might have something to do with
that operation when they snipped
the little bbs off between his legs but
he never missed em said my wife that s
easy for you to say i said

he is a one man cat she says he
thinks you are god i say that s
because i get up early and feed him his
chow and let him sleep on  ~
my chest at night yes but you always
call him honeyboy and rub his tummy and
that s what a cat thinks is god well
wotthehell i think he s a honeyboy i
say and she says then you go pick
up the big yucky furball he ralphed
on the rug and while you re at it take care of
the black hairs he left on the duvet
cover so i do

sometimes early in the morning when
we re just getting that last bambi dream and
it s not really daylight ralphie tums
linguist and tries to speak in different
voices or whatever he sure has a lot
to say sometimes he tries to make
woowoo with ms Winnie who doesnt have any
equipment either but ralphie thinks
it s peachy and pretends he s a
tomcat which he never was in the first place i dont
think he minds when ms winnie gets
bored with the whole deal and walks away in the middle

he d rather eat chow or macadamia nuts and
lick the salt off my fingers when
i m having a bracer of scotch he
likes to be carried around straddling my
arm with his legs dangling down he
flexes the fingers of his left paw to
let you know he s in ecstasy he
also likes to walk on the keyboard of
my word processor when i m writing the column he
makes words like pppppppp;;;;;;;lll1ll and
qqqqqqqqqqq2222222qqqqq which we can t
read but he thinks he s a poet toujours gai
dad he says toujours gai and sweeps his tail under
my nose which makes me sneeze then i
have to get up and go lie down with
him in bed until he purrs himself to
sleep he is kind of a wuss but we dont
tell him so we really love him we re
going to have him stuffed when he dies

 

Watching birds at feeder every day                 (jbbardin)

Eat, sleep, poop, play, repeat. Woof!               (Jeannette Bournival)

At least I have a dog                                       (Jordan Mo)

PJ’s, Coffee, Music, Birds on deck                   (Kevin Scott)

In cocoon    with love           and meows        (Karen Frair)

Back to Top

Lynne Bonetti-Watercolorist Supreme

/in
Read more

RVM Resident Garden Tour Revisited

/in

Photo by Carolyn Schenler

RVM Resident Garden Tour Revisited

 

Rita Reitz and Jeannette Bournival took our residents on a wonderful tour of the resident gardens. It was shown on channel 900 on Thursday, November 12 at 7pm.  The COMPLEMENT proudly offers you a chance to see the video again.  Enjoy!

 

https://youtu.be/nOwPx7GCxSY

Three Poems

/in

photographs by Ron Constable

 

Jiggle Bells    by Faye Isaak

A Handfull of Haiku     by Richard Finch

A Magical Conversation With a Tiny Brook     by Anita Sumariwalla

JIGGLE BELLS

Winner of the Complement Crossover Award for the best combination
of poetry and the preparedness theme

by Faye Isaak, (1989)

Jiggle bells, jiggle bells, fissures in the clay,
Falling rocks and aflershocks that jolt and jerk and sway.
Jiggle bells, jiggle bells, fissures in the clay;
Oh, what a ride on our mountainside when Mother Earth gave way.

The Earth, without a warning, on a day so fair and still,
Took rocks and tanks and houses and flung them down the hill.
For what seemed like forever it pitched and heaved and lurched.
It sorta made me think I shoulda spent more time in church. (refrain)

Front door will not open, back door will not close.
Water pipes are busted; we can siphon with the hose.
Well has lost its water, d1iveway’s split in two.
What used to be the fireplace is now a lovely view. (refrain)

Nothin’s in the cupboard, nothing’s in the drawer.
Shelves and all their contents are shattered on the floor.
But there stands Ethel’s vase, as ugly as before,
While my Lalique is in the creek, along with my armoire. (refrain)

Window frames are crooked, there’s cracks in every wall.
The floor is sorta rippled, and the deck’s not there at all.
Highway’s got huge landslides. Pavement’s cracked and crazed.
If I get home by Tuesday night, I’ll really be amazed. (refrain)

Put treasures in a blender, turn it up on high;
Wash it out with chicken soup and then try not to cry.
I know xl should get busy, and not sit here and bawl.
I’d re-hang Mama’s picture, but I cannot find the wall. (refrain)

Look at my stiff upper lip and not my quivering chin.
With every unexpected bump, I leap out of my skin.
But we have the Red Cross, FEMA and S.B.A.,
And lots of help from lots of friends–We’re gonna he okay. (refrain)

If we just lived closer, I’d give a Christmas hug
And share a festive cup of cheer (with no handle on the mug).
But here’s a “Meny Christmas, and a Bright and Brave New Year”!
We’re all okay and glad to say, “Halleluia, we’re still here!”

Back to top

Handful of Haiku

By Richard Finch

Exploring my face
Prying at my sleep-sealed eyes
Lonely August moon.

Chilled by the black lake
gusting wide my down bag
Errant July wind!

Minnows! Gnat-catchers!
Radar—armed bats! Are you
all out on strike? (Slap!)

The winter titmouse
Walks the birdbath surface with
Tentative wonder.

This wet afternoon
Mourners meet to say farewell
With silent, wet eyes.

Back to top

 

 ‘A Magical Conversation With A Tiny Brook‘

Anita Sumariwalla

“WHERE DO YOU COME FROM? WHERE ARE YOU GOlNG?”
“We come – from the warm bosom – of Mother Earth –
We receive – divine breath for life – to follow our destiny!
Yes. we pearls of crystal – seep forth – between stubborn boulders –
Tumbling down – carelessly – enjoying the fun –
As we melt – into the fluid diamonds –
eased by the laughing sun — we sparkle with joy!
We smile – on our bubbly way- at the endless sky –
While inhaling – deeply – the fragrant air so-light.
But – we cannot remain – or stay – our curious friend –

“We do not worry – for our way is – predestined –
By the mysterious – etemal – cycle of life!
We may appear – harmless – and gay –
Beware – do not underestimate – our power!
For we have – strength – to form – to mold –
The sharpest edges – of stones – and rocks –
Into smooth pebbles – and gentle sand –
As we sweep down – our way – to fulfill our destiny!
But — we cannot remain – or stay – our curious friend –

“We sprinkle – teasingly – our silver diamonds – and pearls –
To instill life – into wondrous beings – on our eternal journey.
We enchant humans – and animals alike –
While refreshing – their wilted spirits –
We respond – with joy – when they smile at us!
We dance – and play – with the tiniest creatures –
With utmost tenderness – a gentle cooling.
But – we cannot remain — or stay – our curious friend –

“Then – there are times – mean elements — force us –
We have – no choice – or say –
As we witness – the dreadful destruction – the pain –
We inflict – most unwillingly – on humans – and beasts –
We share – their sorrow – we mourn – we weep with them!
And then – there are times – glorious times –
When we pour – gently – most welcome relief-
Onto disheartened – humans and beasts – the thirst-crusted earth –
We see – then rejoice – with the enchanted beings –
We are thrilled – delighted – in helping – create new life!
But – we cannot remain – or stay – our curious friend –

“As we must – continue to flow – to follow our journey –
To meet – and unite – with new playmates –
Our brother-diamonds – our sister-pearls – who join us –
We are destined – to unite – to create – rivers – and streams –
It is ordained – that – be blend – we melt – into ONE!
We are increasing – creating flowing rivers – and streams –
Until – we may rest – a while – in the soothing calm –
As we receive — a most welcome respite –
ln the serene beauty – of a dreaming pond – or lake!
But – we cannot remain – or stay – our curious friend –
“We must keep flowing – to continue – what is destined.
We laugh – we delight – at the glorious sun –
Who toys with us – who ignites – golden sparkles on us!
At night – we pause – while reflecting – the mysterious moon –
With gentle affection – respect – and tenderness!
But – we cannot remain – or stay — our curious friend –

“We must spread-out – grow wider – deeper – and calmer –
As we remember – our mission – our reason for being! –
With eagerness – we learn – we adjust – we are free –
To welcome – to celebrate – the magical meeting – blending –
Of us – into – the overwhelmingly majestic ocean –
To become – ONE!
But – we cannot remain – or stay – our curious friend –

“As the timeless rhythm – of every-breathing tides –
Help us – to embrace – the amazing contours – of continents!
Gingerly – we cradle – fragile boats — ships – and barges –
With loving care – to their destinations –
We reach out – surround them – in friendship – and trust!
We feel powerful – and yet – we learn –
While becoming aware – turning humble –
As we meet – the awesome elements – of nature!
Currents – that rush us – from one shore – to another –
Invisible winds – torrential rains – thunderous storms –
That whip us – seeming eternally – mercilessly –
Into monstrous waves – high mountains – bottomless valleys –
Crowned with – angry spittle – and twirling foam!
But – we cannot remain – or stay – our curious friend –

“How we long – for the sweet sun – our beloved friend –
We rejoice – in knowing – that we will – meet again!
For it is our destiny – to be gently embraced – to be absorbed –
By the caressing rays – of our glorious – heavenly sun –
To be molded – lovingly – into billowing clouds —
To glide – soothingly – across the seemingly endless sky!
But – we cannot remain – or stay – our curious friend –

“We are being – conveyed – ever-so-gently — back home –
To our precious mountains – our guardians – our friends!
We rest for a moment – we sigh with grateful relief-
Then – melt – once again – into – diamonds and pearls –
Within – imposing castles – of rocks – so solid!
Yet — we are happy – trusting – as we seep – silently –
To sink – deep – deep – to return –
lnto the warm bosom – of Mother Earth –
To slumber – in peace – to rest – for a while –
Before – our journey – begins anew!

“You asked:

‘WHERE DO YOU COME FROM? WHERE ARE YOU GOING?‘

We just told you:

IT IS THE MAGICAL – DIVINE CYCLE – OF RESURRECTlON!”

 

Back to top

Word Play: There’s a Word for That

/in

by Tom Conger  

Words can be fun. Words can be frustrating. English words in particular, drawing from so many different sources, can be fascinating indeed. If there is a theme to this presentation, let’s essay—as a chronologically-gifted constituency—to focus on words which deal somewhat in the realm of geriatrics. For purposes of this exercise, let’s dispense with the words we once learned, which served us so well over so many long decades, and which have been appropriated by today’s young people to mean something entirely different than what we were taught. For this initial chapter, we are indebted to Why Do We Say It? by Castle Books, distributed by Barnes & Noble.

Charley Horse – sports slang for painful stiffness in the muscles, resulting from unaccustomed vigorous activity (reaching down to pull up one’s socks…): “common name for an old horse, particularly one afflicted with sweeny or other stiffness.”

D-Day – June 6, 1944: the D just stands for Day. “In order not to divulge the designated day of a military operation it was never written as a definite date but only as ‘D’; the hour was designated as ’H.’ ” And Hitler didn’t even know where the Allies would land . . .

Duck Soup – easy: “A puddle caused by rainfall will materialize without human effort…a project requiring no special effort.”

Fogey – old, behind the times: once a standard English word “Foggy” meaning fat, bloated, or “moss-grown.” “The Scots adopted the word as “fogey” and used it disrespectfully for a woefully chronologically-advanced auld fellow.

Gaffer – chronologically-advanced auld fellow: merely a contraction of “grandfather.”

Hep – savvy (“woke”): Army drill sergeants counting marching cadence call out “Hep! Hep!” (“Step! Step”). Recruits who learn to keep step (literally & figuratively) w/their mates are “hep” (aka “hip”).

Jalopy – dilapidated chronologically-enhanced automobile: rides rough like a horse = “gallop-y” (with a softened G, becomes jalopy).

Rumble Seat – outside seat: behind the body of the carriage, originally designed for servants; when sitting back there one could hear the rumble of the carriage as it rolled along.

Tin Lizzie – cheap Ford: Fords were called “Lizzie” presumably due to their similarity to lizards—fast cars were “whizzers” and slow heaps were “lizards.” And thinnest of sheetmetal was used to make tin cans.

March Hare – mad as: “March begins the rutting season for hares and the hares run about wildly at that time—apparently quite ‘mad.’ ”

Mud in Your Eye – a toast: to yourself, as in “I hope I beat you.” If the track for a horse race is muddy, the rider of the losing horse will get mud in his eye from the leader(s).

OK – all right: Presidential election of 1840, Van Buren was nicknamed “The Wizard of Kinderhook” after his birthplace Old Kinderhook. NYC support groups called themselves “The Democratic O.K. Club” and others followed suit, using the term “O.K” as a slogan, which became synonymous with stating they/their candidates were right on


Plus Fours – golfers’ knickers: ordinary knee-breeches were not full enough at the knees to allow a golf swing, so tailors added four inches to the length of the seam, allowing them to hang over the knees, giving the player enough slack. The tailor’s notation for this was “+4.”

Salad Days – a man’s youth: “when a man is young he’s ‘green’—and ‘greens’ go into making a salad.”

Speakeasy – illicit saloon: Irish origin. Raising a ruckus where liquor was sold contrary to Prohibition Law could alert the police, thus one had to “speak easy.”

Kick the Bucket – Celestial exit: one about to hang self would mount a bucket (or stool), affix the noose, then kick the bucket out from under = Aloha Nui . . .

Three More Poems

/in

(more 6word novels)

photographs by Ron Constable

 

BIRDSONG   by Ray Teplitz

I Don’t Know Why   by Jackie Parrish

Out Fishin’   by John Reimer

                                                               

 BIRDSONG

by Ray Teplitz   3/17/18

I try to remember to wear my
hearing aids when I go out
walking.  It is not only for me
to better participate in the
word-song that passes for
communication between me
and other walkers, but to remain
aware of oncoming traffic,
passing drones, malicious
pigeons, etc. and the music of
the bird sounds that abound.

Some of those sounds are the
twittering of gossipy conver-
sations, possibly warnings of
the time to attend  school or
the need to get to a meeting of
scholars or business of other
kinds…who knows what the
finches may be up to now?  But,
they burst into song now and
then.  Is it a random impulse?
Or an organized event?  Per-
haps, the beginning of an
opera?  Whatever.  I imagine
that those better informed
about birds may know, but not
I.

My memory is stirred about
the bird in our house, a yellow
canary, my father’s bird.  It
was my task to see to it that
the bird was fed, watered and
the cage cleaned.  But, the bird
studiously ignored us all,
except for my father.  On his
return home, the bird was
released and after flying about
the room enjoying its freedom,
it would settle on my dad’s
shoulder and sing gloriously.
They would kiss.  It was just
wonderful to see…………and hear.

Why and how this special
relationship came to be is
another one of those questions
I never got to ask my dad.

Back to Top

 

“I Don’t Know Why”

by Jackie Parrish

Old men perched high in tiered row,
Proclaim we have another foe
And insist we have to go.
But, is it so?
Yet, who can say no.

Soon missiles fly,
And invisible women cry,
and children die.
And I wish I knew why.

Old ones and young ones,
Dark ones and light ones.
They all
Silently fall.
A momentary sorrow,
Forgotten tomorrow.

Another missile sails.
A mother wails
At child blood trails
Drawn in the sand
Of the battered land.
What did they do?
I wish I knew.

For oil, for greed?
For color, for creed?
For profit, for pride?
I think they have lied.

We’re sent to kill.
They’re left to die.
Tiny specks on a hill.
And I don’t know why.

Back to Top

Out Fishin’

by John Reimer (4/19/06)

I crept up softly to the shore
of that remembered pool
I knew some trout were in it
That I would try to fool

I sent my fly to dancin’
Upon the water clear
They must have seen it floating by
There was no cause to fear

I cast the fly to make it land
Farther up the stream
I did my best to make it float —
A dead fly to be seen.

I chose my spot and made my cast
And landed it with care
And sure enough a silver fish
I found awaiting there.

I saw a fish come swiftly up —
The fly to disappear,
I felt the tug and hooked the fish —
Sent up a lusty cheer.

It plunged, cavorted, did its best
To keep from being caught
It bent the rod and pulled the line –
It fought and fought and fought

At last it tired and came to me
And landed in my net
The biggest fish I ever had –
As big as they can get.

For all the joy it brought to me
I took a memory look. –
Took the fly so gently out –
Returned it to the brook.

You see that I will fish for more
Than taking home the fish –
My memry book holds many a dream
I otherwise would miss.

For I will dream beside the stream
While I am fishing there
And whether I catch fish or not
I simply do not care.

 

Time for glass of wine yet?                                                  (Helen McCrea)

Thank goodness Albertson’s now delivers wine                 (Linda Sind)

I’m fine, I had some wine                                                    (William Silfvast)

To SIP has a new meaning.                                                 (Dolores Fisette)

Fill my glass. This will pass!                                                (janet Hines)

Back to Top

Holiday Poem 2020

/in

by Joni Johnson

Twas the night before Kwanzaa…

Hey wait a darn sec-and tighten your belt

What happened to Santa?

The dreidel and Hannukah gelt?

Buddha is missing,

and this is quite clear-

There’s no mention of holidays

All through the year.

But we need to remember we are

A great nation

Because, not inspite of,

The conglomeration

Of cultures and languages

Vying for space-

Trying to find

their spot in this place.

And we cannot forget

That this holiday cheer

Which fulfills us and beckons

This time of the year

In addition to being a

Great celebration

of Christmas, is also a nod

to the rest of the nation.

That peace and good will is

Important to all

No matter where on the spectrum

You happen to fall.

I was going to write a poem

That was sad-

But then I decided that that

Would be bad.

In spite of the losses of friends

we hold dear

And those dear little creatures

Who are no longer here,

And the looniness overtaking

The world at this time

And the hardness of finding more

Words that will rhyme,

That there’s much to be thankful

If we open our eyes.

So my evaluation of this year

I revise.

It’s time to assess all the good that

We’ve got

The cards we have gotten

attest on the spot

To the good things that happened

to one and to all

in spite of the bad that to each

did befall.

So we need to keep hold

Of this bright winter cheer

And remember to feel it

Through out the next year.

Happy Ramadan, Hannukah,

Christmas and Kwanzaa,

Happy February, March and April

And on…za!

Back to Top