Month: May 2018

“Home of the free, because of the brave.”

Severely damaged during the Battle of the Coral Sea, the U.S.S. Lexington aircraft carrier was scuttled May 8, 1942, to prevent it from falling into the hands of the Japanese.

In March of this year, the research vessel RV Petrel discovered the wreckage resting two miles below the ocean’s surface.

Monday, we celebrate Memorial Day honoring the memory of all who died in service to their country—including 218 on the Lexington. The official day for honoring all members of the armed services is Veteran’s Day, another deserving date set aside to pay tribute to those who have served their county in defense of freedom.

While we mark these important dates with extra respect, thanking all who have served is a practice in which everyone enjoying life in a free country should participate every day.

In that spirit, I’ll mark Memorial Day with a poem credited to a sailor who served on the U.S.S. Lexington. No mention was found of his name, or his fate. Whether we honor that sailor as one who died in service, or who was lucky enough to return, the poem illustrates, better than I am able to do, why we should honor veterans every day.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

“Just a Simple Sailor”

He was getting old and paunchy,
   And, his hair was falling fast.
He sat around with his buddies,
   Telling stories of the past.
Of a war in which he fought,
   And, deeds that he had done.
In his exploits with his buddies,
   They were heroes, every one.
Tho’ sometimes to his neighbors,
   His tales became a joke,
All his buddies listened,
   They knew whereof he spoke.
But, we’ll hear his tales no longer,
   For old Nick has passed away.
And the world’s a little poorer,
   For a sailor died today.
He won’t be mourned by many,
   Just his children and his wife.
For he lived an ordinary,
   And, very quiet sort of life.
Held a job, and raised a family,
   Going quietly on his way;
The world won’t note his passing;
   Tho’ a sailor died today.
When politicians leave this earth,
   Their bodies lie in State,
While thousands note their passing,
   And proclaim that they were great.
Papers tell of their life stories,
   From the time they were young,
But the passing of a sailor,
   Goes unnoticed, and unsung.
Is the greatest contribution,
   To the welfare of our land,
Some politician’s broken promise
   And, the cons of his fellow man?
Or, the ordinary fellow,
   Who in times of war and strife,
Goes off to serve his country,
   And offers up his life?
The politician’s stipend,
   And the style in which he lives,
Are sometimes disproportionate,
   To the services which he gives.
While the ordinary sailor,
   Who offered up his all.
Is paid off with a medal,
   And, perhaps a pension small.
It’s so easy to forget them,
   For it was so long ago,
That our Nicks, Jims and Johns
   Went to battle for one and all.
We know it wasn’t politicians,
   With their compromise and ploys
Who won for us the freedom,
   That our country now enjoys.
Should you find yourself in danger,
   With your enemies at hand.
Would you really want a politician,
   With his ever waffling stand?
Or, would you want a soldier, sailor,
   Who has sworn to defend,
His home, his kin, and country,
   And would fight until the end?
He was just a common sailor,
    And his ranks are growing thin.
But his presence should remind us,
   We may need his like again.
For when countries are in conflict,
   Then we find a serviceman’s part,
Is to clean up all the troubles,
   That the politicians start.
If we cannot honor him now,
   While he’s here to hear the praise,
At least let’s give him homage
   At the ending of his days.
Perhaps a simple headline
   In the paper that might say:
Our Country is in mourning,
   For A Sailor Died Today.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Memorial Day and every day, remember our troops, living and deceased, in your actions and your prayers. Take time to say “Thank you for your service.”

—Leon Aldridge

Aldridge columns are also published in the Center, Texas, Light and Champion (http://www.lightandchampion.com) and the Mount Pleasant, Texas, Tribune newspapers (http://www.tribnow.com).

“I am more vintage than I am high fashion.” —Kat Graham

Should you hear the term “Fashion plate” in the same sentence with my name, I guarantee it’s fake news. A slave to fashion, I am not. Style changes should be regarded in the same manner as computer software upgrades—let everyone else test them first to make sure they work.

During my “at least once every ten years whether it needs it or not” closet cleaning last week, I was again reminded of just how many decades and style changes my wardrobe spans.

My attire for any day is usually determined by whatever is hanging in front of me when I walk into the closet. If it’s there, if I can see it and it’s clean, that’s what you’ll see me wearing today.

That program has its pitfalls, though. As an early riser, I’m typically getting dressed before sunup, and even more critical, before coffee. Many times, I’ve walked out confident about the way I was dressed only to discover by light of day, mixed with an infusion of caffeine, that my choices were not necessarily the best. Some days, it’s the wrong match, other days, the wrong decade.

These are the days when it’s a good thing I’m not a slave to fashion.

For me, it’s hard to get excited about fashion when today’s “in” styles are certain to be “out” by tomorrow. It does work in my favor, however, when things that were fashionable 30 or more years ago might be on the verge of a comeback. I’m never sure what’s “in” and what’s “out.” By the time I like something that’s in, it’s out. Not to worry, however. If it’s out, it will be back in soon.

A stroll in and out of my closet is reminiscent of something between a fashion museum exhibit and a thrift store clearance sale counter.

Over the years, I’ve tried samplings of styles touted as the fashion rage, and I still have most of them. That collection includes bell-bottoms (I hear they’re back in), white belts, paisley shirts (they’re definitely back in), and leisure suits (mine was light blue—but, I’m not sure they’ll ever make it back in).

I have a vested interest in suits, some with and some without—vests, that is. An interest in suits means I also have an extensive tie collection. Whatever the style, I have a variety of them: wide ones, narrow ones, striped ones, printed ones, special occasion and holiday ties—you name it, I probably have one.

Hanging in my closet are ties so wide that I can hide behind them and ties so narrow they won’t even cast a shadow. I’ve saved them all which means I can be tied to the fashion for any decade.

Decades of tee shirts adorn the better part of one hanging rack. Resembling travel posters for air shows, car shows, speed shops, vacation destinations and special events from California to Florida, they document time from the 1969 NHRA Springnationals drag races to the Highway 271 classic car cruise I enjoyed a few weeks ago.

Can’t fold them up and stuff them in a drawer, I wouldn’t be able to the see them. But, I can’t wear them— they’re memorabilia, not fashion.

So, with the shirts sorted, the ties tidy, and the closet cleaned, I can scratch that off my list for at least another ten years or so. What did I get rid of while cleaning? Nothing—after all, I’m not a slave to fashion.

—Leon Aldridge

Aldridge columns are also published in the Center, Texas, Light and Champion (http://www.lightandchampion.com) and the Mount Pleasant, Texas, Tribune newspapers (http://www.tribnow.com).

 

“God could not be everywhere, and therefore He made mothers.” —Rudyard Kipling

The first Saturday in May, I can usually be found right where I was last Saturday afternoon: watching the Kentucky Derby.

Am I a horse racing fan? Not particularly, but I am a huge fan of my mother’s home state, the Commonwealth of Kentucky. Her family lineage endears me to the running of the first leg of horse racing’s legendary Triple Crown, and reminds me that Mother’s Day is near.

While I’ve watched the race on television many times, experiencing the “Most Exciting Two Minutes in Sports” in person remains on my bucket list. Maybe someday …

My mother, Indianola Johnson, was born in Winchester, Kentucky in 1923. She spent her childhood there and graduated from Winchester’s Clark County High School in 1941. She was the oldest of six siblings and was the first to marry. While making plans to wed a soldier in Texas named Aldridge and a make a move there to live, she received very good advice from a loving father. In a letter that she kept all her life in a cedar chest, Arthur Johnson advised his oldest daughter to “be true to God, to herself and to her family.” He emphasized the importance of the family part by urging all of his children to remain close to each other as they began their own families.

And, remain close they did. Annual family reunions spread between Texas and Kentucky, and Christmas gatherings for decades rotating between their homes, clearly defined the meaning and the importance of family for me.

As those years went by, Mom would listen to the “Run for the Roses” on the radio, or watch it on television when she could, fondly sharing stories about her heritage growing up in the horse racing region of Kentucky.

My adult years found me watching the derby while calling Mom, regardless of where my wanderings took me. It gave her an excuse to talk about Kentucky and gave me a chance to wish her a happy Mother’s Day. Mom died in 2010, but Kentucky Derby weekend still reminds me of her, and it still reminds me that Mother’s Day is coming up.

Not only was the Johnson family’s Kentucky heritage deeply instilled in me, but it also influenced my taste buds. I can’t think of Kentucky without a craving for snappy cheese dip from Hall’s on the Kentucky River at Fort Boonesborough, Hot Brown sandwiches made famous by the Brown Hotel in Louisville, and “Ale 8” soft drinks bottled only in Winchester. Though not a Kentucky original, White Castle hamburgers enjoyed while in Kentucky also rank high on that list.

A favorite photo of mom, the one at the top of this page, records her and her sister, Amy, standing near a roadside Ale 8 sign. Mom is on the right holding a kitten. I would guess them to be teenagers, which dates the snapshot in the mid to late 1930s. As with most old photos, it would be interesting to know the circumstances that placed them flanking that sign and posing for a picture. The additional sign behind Amy would indicate it might have been at a country store, perhaps the one at Becknerville they frequented, but that’s pure speculation on my part. However, the photo speaks volumes about them as it is. Both kept Ale-8 and a cat or two around all their lives.

Mom and Dad married in 1944 in Pittsburg, Texas, and lived their entire married life in Texas, but she never forgot her roots in the Bluegrass State.

I miss you, Mom. Thought about calling you Saturday. Justify got out of the gate clean and ran side-by-side with Promises Fulfilled, a 49-1 long shot, through the first half of the race. He took the lead and extended it down the backstretch to stake the win by two and a half lengths at the pole with jockey Mike Smith aboard.

And, by the way Mom, Happy Mother’s Day.

—Leon Aldridge

Aldridge columns are also published in the Center, Texas, Light and Champion (http://www.lightandchampion.com) and the Mount Pleasant, Texas, Tribune newspapers (http://www.tribnow.com).

“What is economy for you? When you buy quality merchandise at consistently low prices and get S&H Green stamps on your cash discount.” —S&H Green Stamps ad slogan

“You keeping that old trash can,” asked someone as we disassembled the household my parents spent 62 years putting together.

“You mean this little black trash can with the poodle holding a parasol painted on it,” I asked? “Reminds me of Mom. I was just a kid the day she got this at the S&H Green Stamp store.”

Memories are a facet of harboring everything from old cars to small remnants of life past. The garage housing my trio of old cars is adorned with reminders of an era celebrating the same one the cars represent, the one during which I grew up. There’s the standard complement of automotive signs hawking cars and products long gone, but not forgotten. But, there are also a few recalling snippets of every day life that have unceremoniously slipped into extinction.

Things like trading stamps, once a boon to generations of families, that were dealt a blow from a changing retail economy ushered in by big-box stores and finished off by the Internet.

They originated almost 100 years earlier when merchants in the 1890s reportedly devised trading stamps as a bonus enticing customers to pay cash instead of carrying credit with the store: a common practice many years ago. Gas stations followed suit about 20 years later with chain supermarkets were on board by the 1920s.

Filled books of stamps were originally taken in trade for merchandise in the store giving away the stamps. In 1896, the Sperry & Hutchinson company became the first to offer them to different types of merchants and opened redemption centers where books of stamps could be exchanged for household items, furniture, jewelry, toys, and many other items.

S&H Green stamps became the most popular brand alongside names like Blue Chip, Gold Bond, Plaid and others employing the connotation of value, savings and “something for free.”

Traveling from Mount Pleasant, Texas, to the Green Stamp redemption center on South High Street in Longview with Mom and Granny was a big deal. The expectation was that Mom might have enough left over for something fun. That seldom happened, I suspect because she already had her books budgeted toward household needs before making the trip.

A little budgeting today will be in order among collectors seeking an original sign identifying the brand of stamp a merchant offered for doing business with them.

Inquiring about the price of one S&H Green Stamp sign at a car swap meet down close to Houston a few years ago very nearly required a dose of oxygen for me to recover and continue the quest. The search did continue however, and a couple of years later I happened up on one priced within my budget in an antique shop in Jefferson, albeit one with a little more “patina.”

A companion for it was adopted last weekend from a car swap meet in Fort Worth when a blue and yellow sign bearing “Blue Chip Stamps,” almost covered up by other items, caught my eye.

“Blue Chip Stamps” was a competitor to S&H Green Stamps, but research yielded little history about them other than their demise amid lawsuits and acquisitions.

They did have cool looking signs, however. A deal was made for the one I stumbled onto last weekend, and it has been added to my garage wall collection.

As I counted out money for the agreed on price, I briefly considered the humor in asking the vendor if he gave trading stamps with a purchase. That is until that other old stamp memory crossed my mind. You know the one .. about Mom making the kids lick stamps to stick in the books. That part wasn’t so funny.

—Leon Aldridge

Aldridge columns are also published in the Center, Texas, Light and Champion (http://www.lightandchampion.com) and the Mount Pleasant, Texas, Tribune newspapers (http://www.tribnow.com).