A nickel Coke and a dollar's worth of reading

In the 1950s and 60s Lake VIew, Iowa’s small town Dueur Drug Store had not only a fine selection of comic books and magazines available, but also a soda fountain. For a five cents, we boys would order a small Coke (plain, cherry, or vanilla) and sit at the counter for hours reading unpurchased comic books from the nearby rack while nursing the drink. And nobody fussed at us.

Some of my love of reading has to be attributed to Superman and Batman and The Fantastic Four.* I could easily consume a ten-cent comic in ten minutes or so. I read Archie comics, but I really didn’t get the humor. The Classics Illustrated versions of novels like The Three Musketeers and Don Quixote were also among my favorites.

After finishing both my Coke and a few comic books, I would pay my dime for a comic I could take home, trade with buddies, and enjoy reading before going to sleep. 

As I got a bit older, I bought and studied Mad Magazine, much to my grandmother’s dismay. (I had to hide it when staying at her home.) But even more distasteful to her and appealing to me were the Eerie and Weird Tales magazines full of monsters, supernatural events, and bare-breasted women (who strangely never had nipples). 

Yes, I read novels eventually. My personal Edgar Rice Burroughs collection was extensive and I plowed through Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew mysteries. As I entered junior high and high school, my range of reading expanded to include Heinlien, Tolkien, and Ian Fleming.

As I relate these memories, I ask myself if we in traditional education have not taken the wrong approach to reading instruction. Would we inspire more reading and better readers (not just those who can read, but want to read) by using comic books, graphic novels, and self-selected materials rather than reading textbooks and professionally selected library books? (I love seeing the extensive graphic novel collections in many libraries today.)

For whatever reason (opportunity, a reading family, or a generous drug store owner), I am grateful that I became a life-long reader. Something stuck - I have already in August gone past my Goodreads’ goal of 52 books for the year.

Make sure your kids have access to comic books.

*A recent post (Why I Read) by Miguel Guhlin stirred this memory from my own misspent childhood. Miguel reminisces on how he sat in front of the comic book rack reading various issues, without reprimand from adults.

Don't complain until you've cleared a trail

Have you ever been on a hiking trail and thought, “Who in the hell takes care of this path and why aren’t they doing a better job of it?” 

Fallen trees across the trail, shaky bridges over swamps, confusing or nonexistent signage, and just overgrown branches make all the more challenging what is perhaps an already a difficult journey. 

Guilty!

This weekend has reshaped my attitude toward hiking trail conditions. An outdoor club of which I am a member has as one of its responsibilities the maintenance of the Border Route Trail - a 65 mile path that follows the Canadian border in northern MN. About a dozen Rovers made the six hour drive north to spend a couple days camping, socializing, and actually working on the trail.

We had several tasks:

• To add metal signs to unsigned portions of the trail that reflects its new status as part of the North Country Trail (Amazing how much work putting one of these things is.)

• Repair two bridges on the east end of the trail
• Add blue blazes on tree trunks for route guidance
• Use a chainsaw to clear large deadfall lying across the trail
• Use loppers and handsaws to clear overgrown branches and small deadfall in the path

After a demonstration and practice on how to install new metal signposts, I joined the seven members of the trail clearing crew. Shuttling to the trail head with our gear, we spent the day clearing and blazing the first five miles of the trail. It was hot, sweaty, buggy, and tiring. But rewarding. Good company and some amazing views were our reward.

A cold beer and a quick swim in McFarland Lake cooled one off at the end of the day. Suppers and breakfasts were communal. The tent and sleeping bag felt pretty darned good each night.

I probably did not contribute as much as I could or should have. I used my car as a shuttle. I lopped. I moved logs. I painted blazes. I carried a supply bucket. And I learned just how much work maintaining a trail actually is. Of the trail’s 165 miles, it took eight of us most of the day to clear just five of them.

So next time I am on the trail, I will be grateful for the bridges that are stable and the paths that are clear. Not grouse about the small annoyances while wondering about the competence of the trail caretakers. Now that I’ve been one of them.*

*Perhaps each of us should spend a day or two being a classroom teacher, a snowplow driver, a fast food worker, a nurse, or in any job which seems to draw criticism…

What's so funny about farts?

“Whatever you do, don’t pull Dad’s finger!” were the first words out of my then 6-year-old son’s mouth when being introduced to a friend of mine. Thankfully, she simply smiled and said, “Sounds like good advice.” A rather interesting way for a child to begin a relationship, I thought. 

Attending Shrek: The Musical at a local community theater spurred this memory. In one of the scenes in the show that got the biggest laughs, Shrek and Fiona engage in a farting contest. 

What is it exactly that makes farts so funny? We don’t necessarily laugh at sneezes, burbs, hiccups, coughs, or other bodily noises. But fart once and the world laughs with you - or at you.

I am not the first person to ask this question. Wikipedia has an entire entry devoted to “Flatulence humor.” In it you learn that there is a fart joke from 1900 BC recorded by the Sumerians. Aristophanes, Chaucer, and Franklin all got their audience chuckling using fart humor. Academicians have considered the question of why passing gas cracks us up to be a serious subject. And there is even an entire book on the subject: Jim Dawson's (2010) Did somebody step on a duck: A natural history of the fart. (OK, admit you just snickered when reading that title - and maybe went to see if it was still available.)

Other than confirming my solid belief that maturity is just an artifice for most of us, I have little to offer in the way of an answer to this question. But writing on the topic made me consider…

• How fortunate I am to have such a trouble-free life that I can spend time thinking and writing about such trivial matters.
• That you, dear readers, could be spending your time better as well. Check out Miguel Guhlin’s thoughtful blog instead.
• How it seems that nearly every question I can think of has already been asked and answered online and found with a 3 second Google search.

I have NOT searched YouTube for fart videos.

• I wonder if finding tooting hilarious is the common bond among all humankind. If so, what does it say about the necessity of our species in the grand order (or odor) of things?

Enjoy the rest of your day. And whatever you do, DON’T pull anyone’s finger.