King Cotton

by June Bassemir

(written circa 1974  with an update of 2011)

The town crier was hoarse!  After all he had been crying out the news all night!

    “King Cotton has been dethroned."

“Rah! … Rah…. That’s good”…..said some!   But a few were sad and said, “That’s bad!”

The crier continued…”A woman by the name of Polly Esther has become Queen and hereafter all clothes will be made with her.”

For the most part the people rejoiced and even the few Cotton followers, who doubted the new Queen’s effectiveness, were satisfied to wait and see.

The supporters of the throne boasted that clothes made by the Queen would never have to be ironed.

All the women rejoiced because they never liked ironing clothes anyway.  All went well for a while until “Gid” appeared.  Now, Gid is the nickname for Ground in Dirt and he liked to hide in some shirts – usually around the collar & cuffs.  After  months of wash and wear, husbands began to complain about dirty collars and some were even heard running up and down the halls singing the number one hit of the day…”Ring around the collar…ring around the collar.”  No sooner had that tune begun its upward climb, when “Every woman’s friend Clorax” introduced her second cousin – Clorax 2.

Alas…Polly Esther’s popularity was waning.  Her subjects noticed she kept steady company with a nasty fellow called. “Static Electricity”.  Whenever he was with Queen Polly, he brought his buddies along too.  There names were “Threads”, “Hairs” and “Fuzzier Wuzzies”.  The citizens began to complain of shocks, especially in cold weather.

“Something must be done,” complained the people…so Polly Esther’s advisors called upon their trusted Chinese friend, “Cling Free” to rid the Queen of “Static – E’s” shocking effect.  He did so with a push of a button.

The throne still belongs to Polly Esther but King Cotton is waiting patiently for another chance to reign.  There’s talk of a marriage between the two.  The King’s supporters feel that would be his best material gain at this time.

2011 Update:  The King is back, sharing the crown with Polly and others. Thankfully he is not in danger of being dethroned by young men demanding he step down…. as in Egypt and now Libya.  Hah!

Words

By Carolyn Cecil



Folded-down, rumpled page,
graying paperback
holder of words,
solace-laden verse.

Langston Hughes trills
sweeter than hope,
newer than first-heard:
tough love,
stronger than a fist
shoved into a wall.

His will to live.

Solitary, sophisticate,
victor, everyman.
He captures me,
captures you.

I want to touch him,
fine maker of words.


copyright 2010, Carolyn Cecil

If You Just Fly There - Bring Your Jeep

By Harold Ratzburg and Tony Hayte

    The problem of getting the soldier to the battlefield quickly over a long distance in a hurry was solved when the airplane was invented.  But of course, it was rare to have an airstrip right next to the battlefield.  With the coming of the well known "Dakota", the C-47 Skytrain, not only could the soldier get to the nearest airstrip, but he could take with him the means to travel to the actual battlefield in that well known vehicle called a Jeep.

    All this took time, because getting a jeep out of the cargo door was not a simple matter, what with required ramps etc., so a better method was looked for.  It came in the shape of a glider which could transport the soldier and his jeep into the thick of the battle.  Silent (well, almost), in its approach, the glider proved to be very useful, and as the gliders got bigger and better, more cargo could be carried.

    The American and British gliders tended to differ in how they were loaded and unloaded.  The "Waco" was a much used American glider which being low on the ground had an entire front nose section that lifted up to "swallow" it's load.  This allowed for a very clever idea for unloading, where a cable, pulled through a system of pulleys, lifted open the front of the glider as it skidded to a stop, and so there was no need to get out of the Jeep on landing, just drive the jeep straight out IF the landing took place as planed.  It must have been a very merry ride for the troops in the jeep on the way down.

    The British gliders had in some cases a tail that could be "blown off" but ramps then had to be put in position to enable the Jeep to be driven out.  A large side opening door was also used, but it also required the use of ramps. 

    The next logical  step was to hang a Jeep underneath an airplane and drop it with the aid of a parachute.  This is where the British Army differed from the Americans----all British Airborne Forces Jeeps were converted to enable them to be slung under the belly of a bomber or carried more easily in a glider.  American airborne Jeeps were pretty much left as they came from the factory.

    The first consideration was of course, weight, so all non-essential parts were removed.  Who needs rear bumpers, so off they came.  The height of the vehicle was most important, with the highest point being the back of the front seats, so the spare tire was removed.  When in a glider, the wheel was carried between the front bumper and the grill, where a simple bolt held it in place.  As soon as the jeep was well away from the glider, the spare was put back on the rear mount because the wheel stopped the flow of air to the radiator and caused over heating after a short distance.  When parachuted down, the spare was carried on the floor of the Jeep.

    The windshield would be carried in the folded down position while in the glider, as was the canvas cover and bows.  These items were not carried on the parachuted Jeep.  Rear seats were never put into a Jeep of the British Airborne Forces as the room was needed for the four parachutes which lowered the jeep, or much needed supplies.

    The front bumper was cut down to the width of the chassis for weight reduction.  There was never much room inside a glider so off came the jerry can holder.  The side and rear grab handles stuck out from the body and could foul a part of the glider so they were also removed.

    The steering wheel stuck up above the level of the seats, so a quick release arrangement was fitted so that with a flip of the fingers, off came the steering wheel which was then strapped to the front seat.

    The shock of landing, even with four parachutes was quite severe so large pans with reverse springs were fitted to each wheel to absorb the shock.  An eye witness told the story of seeing a Jeep come down with the parachutes unopened and noted that it came down in a most "spectacular fashion".  I'll bet it was!!

    An ever present danger was that after landing, the parachutes would fill up with wind and tip the Jeep over.  So, two 'legs' were attached---with bowl shaped feet, and on contact with the ground, hydraulic fluid was forced through  tubing along the legs and caused the main parachute connecting ring to open allowing the parachutes to blow away.

    But that plan still left the problem on landing with only one Jeep per airplane, until some 'genius' thought, "if we can make a Jeep swim, (GPA), why not make it fly".  So was born the flying Jeep, the Rotaplane 10/42, (auto gyro), with it's two bladed rotor of  46 feet, 8 inches in diameter for lift.  A pylon to hold the rotor was bolted to the floor, a framework to hold the tailplane and two fins was attached to the back of the jeep, a tail skid, flying instruments plus a pilot was added and away you went.  At least, that was the idea.  With several towed behind an airplane, they would be cast off when the landing zone was reached and the auto gyro blades would auto-rotate the jeeps slowly to the ground.  The rotor, framework, and other gadgets would be quickly unbolted and the Jeep would then be ready for its normal duties.  Yeah, RIGHT!!!!!!!!  Good luck with that!!!!!!

    The only one ever built stood ready and was used for the first trials.  A rope was pulled causing the rotor to start  turning, and off down the runway roared the Jeep, being pulled by a British Bentley dragging this weird contraption behind it.  When the speed got up to  65 mph, the Jeep took to the air. 

    What an experience that must have been for the soldiers inside the Jeep.  I know that the top speed of my Jeep is about 60 MPH and that driving it over 45 MPH makes it seem like it might be coming apart.  Considering the fact that even a very slow airplane of WW II flew at perhaps 150 MPH, what a ride it would have been to the GI's in the jeep as it was towed---- maybe even in tandem behind other Jeeps---- in the slipstream of the tow plane, had it ever gotten to that stage of development.

    They had a flying Jeep at last, but it certainly needed to have some bugs removed.  By the time all the snags had been ironed out, bigger and better gliders had been built and so the flying Jeep idea was abandoned.

    There are a few surviving photographs of the flying Jeep that show that this clever piece of engineering actually existed and it is a great pity that the prototype was never kept.

    NOTE:  I need here to give credit to my co-author Tony Hayter, who was a member of the National Military Vehicle Collector Association in England back in the 1970's when he wrote an article about the Jeeps.  I found his article in a back issue of the Motor Pool Messenger and felt that it was worth reprinting again with a few of my very own smart-alec remarks and photos added to it.  Thank you Tony.

 Copyright, 2012,

by  Harold Ratzburg P.E.
MVPA #126C

Charlotte Temple

by June T. Bassemir

 copyright  2012  

Have you ever heard of Charlotte Temple?  I doubt it.  It is the name of the central character in a small leather bound book only 2 ½” x 4 ½” in size that was written in 1829.  This small book has been waiting patiently in a large box of family treasures forgotten for many years.

Only recently did I open the box to examine the contents.  Its age and the condition of spotted pages made me wonder why one of my ancestors felt it worthy of saving.  After all, it is as of this year, 2012, 182 years old.  The title is simply “Charlotte” written in gold on the spine, and the author is a Mrs. Rowson.  On the title page it says “A Tale of Truth”… and then it quotes these lines from Romeo and Juliet: 

                              “She was her parents’ only joy:

                                They had but one – one darling child.”

This then, sets the scene for love, deception, bitterness, and forgiveness. It is a little book of 35 chapters and only 137 pages.  What an instructive and moving tale is woven therein.  It has so captivated my attention that even now, several days after finishing it, I find myself absorbed in Charlotte’s plight and resulting end.  As you can imagine, a story written in that year is very different from any book or movie of today.  The same alluring temptations that presented themselves to Charlotte are commonplace in today’s society but unlike the written word of today, the wording and thread of the story are carefully hidden in its paragraphs.  How refreshing to turn the crisp, stained pages and “hear” what the author tells us, without the standard immoral blow by blow descriptive words in today’s books which leave nothing to be discovered by the imagination.

It must have been a true story, written no doubt in an effort to save another innocent young girl from the evil ways of men in that time period… indeed it would be a good lesson for naïve girls of today… if you could find one!  One could even call it a handbook – a study of what happens when one enters a relationship, pushing aside the natural innermost thoughts that warn of disaster.

I will save the book for another time.  Sadly, there isn’t anyone I know who would appreciate the moral message it is trying to give.

Desserts

by June T. Bassemir  

4/11/2012

The spring visit with my Massachusetts daughter and husband was a pleasant one but our two new desserts were a disappointment.  She brought down a new chocolate dish from a recipe she saw on the Internet.   It lacked a sweetness that would have improved it enough for us to enjoy, instead it made a nice lunch for the seagulls.  “Never mind”, I said, “I wanted to try Delores Miller’s old fashioned Poppy Seed Torte anyway”.. and I had all the ingredients ready.

The recipe was a bit difficult to read but together we decided the order of things and I proceeded to mix everything up. Unfortunately, with the lively conversation going on at my elbow (the kitchen table), I mistook the number of tablespoons of flour for three (the same as the corn starch) instead of one.  Discovering it later, I just added more milk to the simmering custard in the pot.  “That should do it.” I thought and rested easy.  Eventually the half cup of poppy seeds went in; the egg whites whipped to a thick consistency with sugar and vanilla; then finally crushed graham crackers decorated the top.  In the oven it went for thirty minutes.  “Oh …Oh…I forgot the “butter the size of an egg”…..Yippes!

Well it came out of the oven looking yummy but unfortunately there was no time to eat it as we had to dash out to the Community Theater.  No one was ready for dessert when we came back late at night so the Poppy Seed Torte waited until the next day….. long after breakfast which didn’t include dessert.  By now the meringue on top was no longer fluffy and only a good son-in-law making points said it was “tasty”.  It’s fortunate that my cooking mistakes are not lost on the seagull population.  They sit patiently waiting on the dock at my back door. I think I have lost my touch in making desserts and maybe it's my imagination but it looks like these birds are getting fat.

copyright June T. Bassemir, 2012 

From Chesterton's "Orthodoxy"

This being Easter Sunday,  I thought to post the following paragraph from G.K. Chesterton's  "Orthoxdy." It is not about Easter or Christ, per se, but speaks of the value of the Christian Church in Chesterton’s mind.  Not surprisingly, I find his thoughts intriguing.  And, as usual, it is a great piece of writing.

"I have another far more solid and central ground for submitting to (Christianity) as a faith, instead of merely picking up hints from it as a scheme. And that is this: that the Christian Church in its practical relation to my soul is a living teacher, not a dead one. It not only certainly taught me yesterday, but will almost certainly teach me tomorrow. Once I saw suddenly the meaning of the shape of the cross; some day I may see suddenly the meaning of the shape of the mitre. One fine morning I saw why windows were pointed; some fine morning I may see why priests were shaven. Plato has told you a truth; but Plato is dead. Shakespeare has startled you with an image; but Shakespeare will not startle you with any more. But imagine what it would be to live with such men still living, to know that Plato might break out with an original lecture tomorrow, or that at any moment Shakespeare might shatter everything with a single song. The man who lives in contact with what he believes to be a living Church is a man always expecting to meet Plato and Shakespeare tomorrow at breakfast. He is always expecting to see some truth that he has never seen before. There is one only parallel to this position; and that is the parallel of the life in which we all began. When your father told you, walking about the garden, that bees stung or that roses smelt sweet, you did not talk of taking the best out of his philosophy. When the bees stung you, you did not call it an entertaining coincidence. When the rose smelt sweet you did not say `My father is a rude, barbaric symbol, enshrining (perhaps unconsciously) the deep delicate truth that flowers smell.' No: you believed your father, because you had found him to be a living fountain of facts, a thing that really knew more than you; a thing that would tell you the truth tomorrow as well as today."

Unlike Chesterton, I have not found that to be true for myself.  Of course, he was much better read, and he was a much, much more accurate thinker.

G.K. Chesterton, Orthodoxy, London, 1908.

Wiki:
 http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Orthodoxy_%28book%29

History of the MTA

Military Transport Association

Through the eyes of an Old Geezer
 
by Harold Ratzburg, P.E.
 
    IT WAS A DARK AND STORMY NIGHT----(Okay, Okay, I am not "Snoopy" in the newspaper Charley Brown comic strip starting to write another novel)----but it was a dark and stormy night almost forty years ago, in November of 1972, when Dennis Spence (Of 'Portrayal Press' fame) and Peter Shaw (Of 'Shaws Garage' fame in Florham Park), sat down with me in my office, to write up the by-laws for the first military vehicle club east of the Mississippi.  About a week before, fourteen people with interest in the green machines met in my family room and agreed to form a club which would be associated with the National Military Vehicle Collectors Association (NMVCA), a MV club that had been established in 1970 in Souther California by a gentleman named Frank Bricker.  Frank gets the credit for forming the very first national historic military vehicle organization of any type anywhere in the world.  Our new club would be known as the North Jersey Chapter (NJC) of the NMVCA.
    Dennis Spence was the real powerhouse in organizing the Club.  He had previously organized the Boondock Blazers, a 4WD club and after seeing the success of the NJC,  he, with the help of Ollie Kennen, started the South Jersey Chapter in 1975.  Never slowing down, he and Ollie, with the help of the South Jersey Chapter, ran the first East Coast Military Vehicle Rally at Fort Dix in 1976.
    As things do happen, in 1976 club politics entered the NMVCA, so, out with the old and in with the new, a new club was formed called the Military Vehicle Collectors Club (MVCC), and NJC switched its national affiliation  to the new club in March, 1976, and helped to incorporate the MVCC in NJ in January, 1977.
    Then again, club politics raised its ugly head, and in 1986 and 1987, there was much dissension within MVCC, even a lawsuit, and NJC gradually became Military Transport Association of North Jersey (MTA).  the MTA had no national affiliation for a period, but after MVCC was reformed as the Military Vehicle Preservation Association (MVPA) in 1990, MTA joined it shortly thereafter and we have lived happily together ever since.
    But----enough about old dry history and dates.
    Random Memories of the "good old days"
     Way back in 1976, our local club was strong enough and active enough to help host one of the first International MV Rally, at the Lakehurst, NJ, Naval Air Station  The location included the use of the huge dirigible hanger, where the MV displays were parked and shared the space with Naval aircraft and firefighting equipment.   It was a great location in case of rain, but as it was in July, the hanger became one very big, oven type structure over that weekend, and what I remember most abouit it was just how hot it was.  In spite of it all, we did have a good time.
    A Long Island bivouac and trail ride in the 70's was memorable in that I came to realize just how much a 150 mile ride in an open jeep can be in physical discomfort.  To make it even more memorable, I took with me my little Frau, two kids and a dog..   After the first fifty miles through NY City and its pot holed streets, those two inch thick horse hair seat pads in the jeep seemed to be none existent and squirming from one "cheek" to the other did not help much.  But being younger and more eager than I am now, we did finish the trip out and back and look back at it rather fondly remembering all the funny looks we got from other drivers on the Long Island Expressway..
    In 1984, we felt that the club got a real honor by being invited to participate in the Inauguration Parade for President Ronald Reagan in Washington DC.  We figured----WOW, what an honor----and about four of us made plans for a convoy to drive on down with our MV's,  I chose to tow my jeep, and some came on trailers, but we were going to be there----in January.  It gets cold in January as you know, and on the day that we were trucking on down, a snow storm hit the area, along with a cold wave.  Part way down we had to hole up in a motel and when we hit the road again, all the roadways were heavily salted as they were the day before.  After towing the jeep for 200 miles behind the car on salted roads, the jeep looked like it had been painted white.  When we arrived, the day before the parade, we were provided with a shed to clean our vehicles.  The shed was unheated and what fun it was to wash the jeep, with cold water, in a shed that was about one degree above freezing.  We got the job done however, and settled down in a motel to wait for the early morning wake up call.  We got the call, and would you believe it, the parade was canceled.  The temperature in DC was about twenty degrees with high winds, and the parade committee was afraid that the mouth pieces of the horns of the marching band members would freeze to their lips, so the only thing we could do then was hook up our MV's and head for home.  Oh well----------
    Trail rides, back in the days before the rise of environmental protection wackos and urban sprawl, were a bit more interesting. It was felt that if at least one or more vehicles did not get hung up on a rock or mired in a swamp or river crossing where it would have to be winched out, well, it just wasn't a good trail run, but if someone just mentioned the words "trail ride", 3 or 5 or more vehicles would show up on a weekend and off the group would go.  New Jersey had and still has, I'm sure, some very formidable off road trails up in the mountains and generally following along the right of way under the high tension electric power distribution lines, but now you are discouraged by many more "No Trespassing" signs, or a telephone complaint by a wacko environmentalist will cause a police car to be waiting for you as the you exit out of the woods.  Or, you might find that the nice hill climbing area is now covered by a new housing development with a lot of foreclosure signs in it.  Progress, isn't it wonderful?
    Dinner dances, known as "G.I. Sweetheart Dances", were common back in the 70's and 80's.  It gave all the guys with a uniform to match the years of their vehicle a chance to dress up in Class A uniform and dance to the music of the times, mostly WW II.  In some cases, we even had a real WW II era orchestra playing WW II swing and jitterbug music and a great time was had by all.
    Sarafan Auto Supply-----now there was a name that was popular back in the 70's.  Sarafan was a military vehicle surplus dealer in Spring Vally, NY.  His main business was selling 4WD, WW II trucks to contractors who worked off road on power lines etc, because those old military trucks could go most anywhere.  And on occasion, he would receive a WW II Jeep or more and they were all up for sale.  (In February,1972, I found my present Jeep sitting at Sarafan's yard, in a snowbank, while I was looking for parts for my first rust bucket WW II Jeep).  Being a good businessman, he realized that MV collectors were also good customers and he gave open house affairs to collectors in the hobby where we could look through every little nook and corner of the yard and the sheds for the treasures.  Unfortunately however, the open house affairs were stopped when some of our club members walked away without paying for some items found in the open yard.   Sarafan has since relocated the business to the sunny south.
    Parades can be and were kind of exciting affairs.  On July 4th, 1986, I had a run in with Communist Sympathizers at a parade in Montclair, NJ.  Unannounced and kind of illegally, they forced their way into the parade just in front of our NJC group of military vehicles and marched down the street with a 12 foot long red banner stretched across in front of us.  Remember, this was still in the Cold War period of the US against the Russians.  They taunted the heck out of us just behind them, figuring that we were US military.  After a while, I just lost my cool, climbed out of my vehicle, and ran up and cut the damned red banner in two with my knife.  That did not stop them however, and one of them came back into the parade again, just in front of us, carrying the banner, now like a flag, and still taunting us. I lost it again, and chased that SOB about two blocks before I cornered him and took his flag away from him.  (No, I didn't punch him out.)  I took it back to the parade as a victory symbol and souvenir of the combat,--------but guess what?  At the end of the parade, along comes that SOB, with a cop, and the cop tells me that I have to give him his property back, so I did, of course.  Did I win or lose that battle with the Communists-----Beats me, you figure it out.
    I could go on for a long time about the "good old days" but then I remind myself that these days are the future good old days.
    The MTA is moving along, with a great bunch of people working together in the interest of the hobby and friendship with each other.  What could be "gooder" than that?
 

Happy April Fool's Day, 2012

by Delores Miller

Spring on the farm in Wisconsin.  A month ago I sent you a picture of icicles hanging from the porch roof, now grass is green, the daffodils and tulips are blossoming and Russell fired up the Toro riding lawn mower and is cutting grass and lawn.  May have to put some weed killer on bad spots.

Easter and Holy Week and Palm Sunday.  Richard and family are coming from Massachusetts for a few days and all the other children will be gathering.  Russell filled about 20 dozen plastic eggs with candy and money and the Easter Bunny will lay them around the farm for the children to find them.

Going dancing weekly (weekly) yet.  The Catholic church has Friday fish fries, I like boiled haddock dipped in melted butter, Russ likes the deep fried perch.  All the desserts we can eat too.

Russell is reading books, the large print cowboy books.  Taking a walk around the subdivision.

Not much else is new around here.

What is new with you?

Russell and Delores Miller