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“In the spring a young man’s fancy turns lightly to thoughts of love.” – Alfred Lord Tenneson
“Yeah, and some of us who are a bit long in the tooth get some pretty wacky ideas, too.” – The Grouch
What’s A Little Inflation?
There has been much said the last several years about the effects of inflation on our life. There was even more said this winter because it appears we may have slowed it down, at least temporarily. However, did you ever look at inflation from the effects it may have had on our hobby? From deep within the recesses of my files, and other piles of memorabilia, I have compiled enormous quantities of statistics and alluring figures, some of which might interest you but probably won’t surprise you. On the other hand… you have five fingers.
I first started out in this hobby about 1956 or ‘57 and the first of the Kelsey catalogs I began to accumulate was dated 1956 so that’s a good place to start. I have taken about ten items that represent a beginner’s list. To this I have appended the prices from Kelsey’s lists for the years 1956, 1967, 1976, and 1982. There’s one surprise, though, and that was on the paper products for 1967. Look at the dip in the price. That’s interesting.
Press Outfit 3F, 6 x 10: 1956: $202.43; 1967: $324.90; 1976: $526.75; 1982: $867.75
E-Z Klene Ink, 1 Pound: 1956: $1.35; 1967: $1.72; 1976: $3.35; 1982: $5.80
California Case, full size: 1956: $5.75; 1967: $10.50; 1976: $16.10; 1982: $24.00
No. 10 Furniture, case: 1956: $32.50; 1967: $55.00; 1976: $115.75; 1982: $189.50
8 pt. Century Roman 18-40a: 1956: $6.20; 1967: $12.65; 1976: $26.00; 1982: $50.55
14 pt. Vogue Gothic 13-25a: 1956: $9.45; 1967: $18.60; 1976: $37.95; 1982: $73.60
20 lb. Comm. Bond, Ream: 1956: $1.82; 1967: $1.48; 1976: $3.75; 1982: $5.65
Kelsey white env. 500: 1956: $2.25; 1967: $2.36; 1976: $4.98; 1982: $6.85
Dear NAPA:
Remember how much fun we all had in 1978? Hurry back!
City of Kennewick
When will we see you again?
Faint Heart, Fair Lady
A number of people have questioned me when I have told of how bashful I was in high school. It’s a true story. If a girl had smiled at me I’d probably have climbed the wall. Things have changed a bit lately and the other day I found an anonymous little ode I had copied down from someplace a long time ago, it sounds vaguely familiar.
The moon was yellow; the lane was bright,
As she turned to me in the summer night.
She gave a hint with every glance
That what she craved was real romance
I stammered and stuttered and time went by.
The moon was yellow… and so was I.
I guess a lot of farm boys have that reputation and speaking of farm boys, there is another little poem that sort of gets to the heart of things.
They strolled the lane together,
The sky was filled with stars.
They reached the gate together,
For her he let down the bars.
She lifted her brown eyes to him
There was nothing between them now,
But he was only a farmer boy
And she was a Guernsey cow.
Another Political Giant?
When son, Douglas, left high school he was determined to follow music as a career. He had been playing the trombone since the 5th grade and finished his senior year in high school as the drum major. He was also active in many band functions, which continued right on into college… Jazzbones, Swing orchestra and others.
It wasn’t long until he began to realize a sad fact. If he couldn’t get into a big band and didn’t want to go into teaching there just wasn’t many ways open to make money with music. At best it would be an avocation and not for bread and beans money. He’s been following my progress on the city council with a great deal of interest so I wasn’t too surprised when he informed me he would like to go into politics.
At any rate, one of the subjects he was about to pursue was a thing called “Political Economy.” There wasn’t much I could tell him about that because they don’t seem to do that much anymore.
Who Said That’s Junk?
There has been much said from time to time about the quality of the material going into the bundle. Several writers have hinted that maybe some of the stuff should have been left out of the bundle entirely and some of the rest of it be restricted. One even mentioned economy and postage rates.
Why? Do you want a selection committee? Who would select them and establish their guidelines? You?
Yes, I have seen a lot of so-called junk coming in the bundle and there were times it almost seemed like a waste of postage but is that the point of what we’re trying to do in NAPA.
What about it? Do you feel all of the stuff you have submitted has been top quality or do you think there was some that wasn’t so good? Do you sometimes look back through some of your submissions and wish you hadn’t written, published or mailed a certain item? If you can’t then I would suggest you’re either not an objective judge or a damn liar.
A lot of people have said they like my material, to keep more of it coming. I like to hear things like that but I can’t, for the life of me, believe they mean 100 percent of it has been likable because I don’t even like some of it now. Also, I don’t believe it was liked by 100 per cent of the members either. It is something like the guy who spent a fortune on deodorants and mouth wash only to discover that some people simply didn’t like him anyway.
Yes, I intend to put out the best possible material and I’ll always strive to have next one as good, if not better, than the last one. Sometimes I strike-out.
We are encouraging people to write, to communicate. We are also encouraging people to print. Therefore, how can we get them to do either if they are going to live in dread of being laughed at, sneered at, or otherwise put down.
Sure there’s junk in the bundle but by who’s standards? Somebody did it and that means they are active. Go to it! I may not like certain things you do or say but I commend you for trying.
Clover Island Inn site of the 1978 National Amateur Press Association convention. Ya’ll come back, heah! 1984? 1985? Let’s make a date!
Droopy
She was only a dog. Yes, but she was our dog.
Droopy was born about a week before our oldest granddaughter, Dawn Elizabeth Slaight. That would put her birthday about January 25, 1972. Droopy was born next door when we lived down on North Mayfield street. She was a brown, furry ball with very short legs and a very long pedigree that probably included nearly all known breeds. Her name came from the fact her belly dragged the ground as a puppy and continued to drag, or nearly so for the rest of her life.
She was a prolific little rascal and had about seven litters of pups before we finally had her production line stopped. We have no way of knowing how many of her pups are still alive.
It was George who brought her home and between he, Melody and Douglas, I was prevailed upon to keep her, but I was firm.
“OK,” I agreed, reluctantly, “But she’ll have to stay outdoors, she isn’t a house dog.”
I run a pretty tight ship around here so it was all agreed upon. Droopy became a part of our life. So, where did she sleep? On the floor on my side of the bed. That takes care of the tight ships. It was, actually, difficult to tell who snored the loudest.
Her appetite was unbelievable. She would eat anything that didn’t bite her first. She abhorred dog food and preferred people food, except peas. How she could lick gravy out of stew and leave only well polished peas in the bottom of her dish was something remarkable. Her two pet peeves were the mail person and the paper boy and the reason for either is not, at this time, known to us.
Yes, she was George’s by title but early in life she and I developed a rapport that indicated she was ‘my’ dog. She was seldom very far away from me and often was right under foot.
This winter things started going bad for her. First, she began to get hit in the face when I threw her food, she was going blind. She began lying around more than she used to and the paper boy and the mailman didn’t elicit the old vim and vigor. About a week ago we noticed she wasn’t eating so good and we finally took her to the vet. He didn’t like the looks of things but he took some blood samples and checked her over. The blood test results weren’t good. Diabetes, liver problems and heart murmur was the diagnosis. For three days she didn’t eat and drank very little.
Droopy was put to sleep this morning, March 8th 1983. Now I must get rid of her food and water dishes then she’ll be nothing but a memory, but what a warm pleasant memory it is.
A Good Time To Live
Several times I have mentioned the fact I felt a bit cheated by being born when I was because I was too late to explore the continent and too early to explore space. I have a feeling that if I’d been born a hundred years earlier I would have probably have been a mountain man with a squaw for a wife and a bunch of half-breed children.
I base part of this on a childhood fantasy created and nurtured by the novels of Edison Marshall and a certain James Oliver Curwood, to go into northern Canada and become a trapper. About the closest that ever came to fruition was the time spent rambling in the Cascade mountains during and after my stint in the old CCC’s.
No, I don’t really begrudge the time I’ve spent on earth, it was lousy timing. I witnessed the stock market crash of 1929 and got hungry a few times during the depression that followed. I saw Europe and Asia embroiled in numerous wars that eventually dragged the United States along. I also remember the mellow days of the late forties and early fifties when we and the United Nations, were going to reform the world and banish war. I saw man leave his native planet on a trip that will mean he’ll live among the stars.
True, it hasn’t happened yet but remember that old Chinese proverb: “A journey of a thousand miles begins with the first step.”
Last winter most of the kids (Kids? Four of them are over thirty.) had gathered around and were talking about many things like the old walrus – sealing wax and sailing ships – and I mentioned my problem with the period in which I was born. We talked about it for a while and then one of the boys summed it up:
“Yeah, but Dad, look at the period you did live through. When you were born they were just starting to take the automobile and airplane seriously. Man could hardly get both feet off the ground and now we have landed a man on the moon. You’ve watched radio and TV develop from pipe dreams into reality.
“Sure you were hungry during the depression but think of the adventures you had on that stump ranch wrestling a living from the land. Boy, I sure wish I could’ve lived it with you.”
It’s funny I never realized how much fun it was to be hungry. Still, in all, I guess it’s mostly in your perspective, isn’t it?
Growls From The Grouch
Notes in my notebook get a little fuzzy on meaning or reason after a while. I found this one in an old book: “The Federal government is seldom restrained by logic.” Now, did I read that someplace or did I put it down after one of my battles with the Federal bureaucracy? That reminds me, I am in the middle of another go-around with SS.
This country really owes a great debt to the advertising industry, especially TV advertising. Think about that for a moment.
If it hadn’t been for TV advertising how many of us would have known the merits of various kinds of sanitary napkins; hemorrhoids and their treatment; to say nothing of the best cure for constipation.
You know, when I was younger we used to keep that stuff in the medicine cabinet, not have it with our bread and beans or between beers. I wish it was still that way.
The Journal of a Garret Grouch
Jack & Rosella Hageman
Kennewick, Washington 99336