(Orig Post 9/2005) ------That Vision Thang; Or, Right Dreaming; Or, Separating Beef from Baloney
(Ed. note; This post goes back to Sept of 2005----some of the dream thang has seen some progress--the war has been another matter. Stay tuned.)
I've been thinking a lot lately about "that vision thang." You remember. Pres. George Bush Sr. was criticized cause he said going further into Iraq "wasn't prudent." We ridiculed him big time for being less than macho. He didn't have the vision thang.
His son, Pres. George Bush Jr. had the "vision thang." He was bold, forthright, and honest, not like his Democratic predecessor. Even if his dad told him Iraq would not be "prudent," son had the "vision thang."
Thinking back, it seems we have been real tough on our real visionary leaders---think of Pres. Jimmy Carter in his button down sweater, telling us to turn the lights off and turn the temps down and to get the alternative fuels program ready. We simply laughed at his vision thing, and are paying for our laughter today.
Even in Evansville, I occasionally have trouble with the "vision thang." As my readers know, I believe that the four walls of the house that is Evansville, are School, Library, Park, and Public Safety. Hence, I have urged a combined facility for EMS, Fire and Police. Maybe in some spare space. We have lots of it in the TIF district.
I have been reading Freud on Dreams, tring to get the dream just right. I have been thinking real hard about the objectives of Public Safety. However, no matter how meticulously I plan the sleep, I NEVER wake up with the dream of the Community Center in the Ceramic Shop, the Police in the Dean center, and the two ambulances of EMS packed right to the walls of the City Hall Basement.
Maybe one of my fellow bloggers can help me with the dream procedure. I must be doing something wrong! There is right thinking. I am just trying to have RIGHT DREAMING.
Posted by Evansville Observer at 9:52 AM
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Thursday, December 22, 2005
Saturday, December 3, 2005
"Father D"---or a short history of blarney---a true, or mostly true story
Father D; Or, A short history of Blarney
Father D; Or, a short history of blarney
If you search on the Yahoo search line for the name Woulfe, you will find that this is an Irish name. The family is from Tempelglantine. If you know anything about Ireland, you know that it was real big on potatoes, and blarney.
One of the uncles of mine was Father D, the brother of my grandmother, who came to America right after the seminary. He was assigned to the first Irish parish in St. Paul, up on the top of the hill as you enter St. Paul on Hwy 94. The entire hill in the 1880s was filled with little shanties where the Irish who worked on the railroad lived. In a short 40 years from 1880 to 1920, the Irish moved from nothing to being in charge of the Irish political machine that ran St. Paul.
Father D used to come to all the family gatherings. Like my First Communion, Confirmation, etc. I remember one such occasion when the adults were telling stories about some of the locals. I presume, in retrospect, that they might have been sipping wine while they chatted. My relatives were going over some of our local stuff. If we had a problem with increasing the money collected, Fr. D had the solution. He simply took out every other strand in the collection basket and then anyone who put change in the basket was instantly embarrassed. The collection basket revenue doubled instantly. Father seemed to have the solution for everything in my young mind.
Then someone mentioned that there was a somewhat racy and fast crowd in the lake set. In fact, some had pretty loose morals. It was shocking. Fr. D said he indeed had faced that problem also, but had solved the problem quite simply. One lady in particular seemed to come to Church each Sunday in the most provocative of dresses. Finally, one Sunday, he felt that it had simply had gone too far. Surely the Lord must be deeply offended. Father D felt he was being called to make an example of this exact offence. So, he just motioned over to the altar boy to go and get the chasuble. He draped it over the young women with the shocking dress that was so provocative. Then he gave her Communion.’’
It was a pretty shocking story for a young 12-year-old to handle. Over the years as an alter boy, I came across some pretty provocative women in Church…I always wondered whether the priest would send for the chasuble for these women; but no, they never did. As the years went on, I imagined that that dress must have been VERY provocative indeed. On the other hand, when I got about forty, I began to wonder just where Father D was at and whether celibacy might have been wearing on him a bit.
As the years have rolled on, I have understood that it was just the blarney. There was a little truth, maybe the part about the beautiful women. And there was a little exaggeration, maybe the part about the chasuble. And then I am never quite sure. Each Sunday I wonder whether this Sunday will be the time that the chasuble is finally called for.
Father D; Or, a short history of blarney
If you search on the Yahoo search line for the name Woulfe, you will find that this is an Irish name. The family is from Tempelglantine. If you know anything about Ireland, you know that it was real big on potatoes, and blarney.
One of the uncles of mine was Father D, the brother of my grandmother, who came to America right after the seminary. He was assigned to the first Irish parish in St. Paul, up on the top of the hill as you enter St. Paul on Hwy 94. The entire hill in the 1880s was filled with little shanties where the Irish who worked on the railroad lived. In a short 40 years from 1880 to 1920, the Irish moved from nothing to being in charge of the Irish political machine that ran St. Paul.
Father D used to come to all the family gatherings. Like my First Communion, Confirmation, etc. I remember one such occasion when the adults were telling stories about some of the locals. I presume, in retrospect, that they might have been sipping wine while they chatted. My relatives were going over some of our local stuff. If we had a problem with increasing the money collected, Fr. D had the solution. He simply took out every other strand in the collection basket and then anyone who put change in the basket was instantly embarrassed. The collection basket revenue doubled instantly. Father seemed to have the solution for everything in my young mind.
Then someone mentioned that there was a somewhat racy and fast crowd in the lake set. In fact, some had pretty loose morals. It was shocking. Fr. D said he indeed had faced that problem also, but had solved the problem quite simply. One lady in particular seemed to come to Church each Sunday in the most provocative of dresses. Finally, one Sunday, he felt that it had simply had gone too far. Surely the Lord must be deeply offended. Father D felt he was being called to make an example of this exact offence. So, he just motioned over to the altar boy to go and get the chasuble. He draped it over the young women with the shocking dress that was so provocative. Then he gave her Communion.’’
It was a pretty shocking story for a young 12-year-old to handle. Over the years as an alter boy, I came across some pretty provocative women in Church…I always wondered whether the priest would send for the chasuble for these women; but no, they never did. As the years went on, I imagined that that dress must have been VERY provocative indeed. On the other hand, when I got about forty, I began to wonder just where Father D was at and whether celibacy might have been wearing on him a bit.
As the years have rolled on, I have understood that it was just the blarney. There was a little truth, maybe the part about the beautiful women. And there was a little exaggeration, maybe the part about the chasuble. And then I am never quite sure. Each Sunday I wonder whether this Sunday will be the time that the chasuble is finally called for.
December 2005: "The Hearse"----a true story
The Hearse; Or, On the importance of natural advertising; Or, Memories of "Harold and Maude"
The Hearse; Or On the importance of natural advertising
One of the famous advertising stories of Minneapolis is the story of “Paul Stafford Electric.” He was a fellow student of Don Sheehan in 1994. The truth was that advertising expenses were so large for Paul Stafford Electric that he asked Don Sheehan for some advice. Paul had been buying trucks for his electricians to drive to the job site and in the space of one year, the number of accidents of his electricians had sent his insurance premiums skyrocketing. In addition, gas prices were skyrocketing along with advertising, and after paying all the expenses, there was little to celebrate about.
Don Sheehan came upon a novel strategy. First, Paul Stafford went to the local mortuary and purchased some used hearses. The price was about $1500 for a used hearse those days. Then he purchased some small trailers that he could tow to the job site after the trailer hitch was put on the hearse. In the trailer were all the proper electrical supplies necessary for the job. Then he placed the distinctive advertising on the hearse and trailer. The rest is history. The name of Paul Stafford Electric is known throughout Minneapolis and the best part is that he pays no advertising.
I pondered that if it worked for Paul Stafford, it would work for me too. So, yes, I did talk to Paul Stafford and he did give it his blessing. I purchased a hearse and used it in the computer business. I can tell you that it worked wonders and I also learned that those hearses have wonderful premium sound systems, precisely because the music is so soothing for the recently departed.
As young girls, Amy and Julie loved riding in the hearse and riding in the back in the midst of heavy traffic on the 35W following the hearse. They loved to shock drivers behind by quickly opening the curtains and shouting “boo.” The petrified look in the drivers faces was thrilling. The girls did not know what a “hearse” was, and just called it the “pretty car with the curtains.”
It is not clear whether the interest in hearses was due to my love of the movie "Harold and Maude," or whether it was because I was always the alter boy at St. Jude’s Church who got to go to Calvary Cemetary with full motorcycle escort when I was in 8th Grade. I do think it was simply that the advertising expenses were zero. Yes, when I was on the road, my CB handle was “Hearseman.
This is simply an example of “natural advertising.” I will have other examples in further posts.
The Hearse; Or On the importance of natural advertising
One of the famous advertising stories of Minneapolis is the story of “Paul Stafford Electric.” He was a fellow student of Don Sheehan in 1994. The truth was that advertising expenses were so large for Paul Stafford Electric that he asked Don Sheehan for some advice. Paul had been buying trucks for his electricians to drive to the job site and in the space of one year, the number of accidents of his electricians had sent his insurance premiums skyrocketing. In addition, gas prices were skyrocketing along with advertising, and after paying all the expenses, there was little to celebrate about.
Don Sheehan came upon a novel strategy. First, Paul Stafford went to the local mortuary and purchased some used hearses. The price was about $1500 for a used hearse those days. Then he purchased some small trailers that he could tow to the job site after the trailer hitch was put on the hearse. In the trailer were all the proper electrical supplies necessary for the job. Then he placed the distinctive advertising on the hearse and trailer. The rest is history. The name of Paul Stafford Electric is known throughout Minneapolis and the best part is that he pays no advertising.
I pondered that if it worked for Paul Stafford, it would work for me too. So, yes, I did talk to Paul Stafford and he did give it his blessing. I purchased a hearse and used it in the computer business. I can tell you that it worked wonders and I also learned that those hearses have wonderful premium sound systems, precisely because the music is so soothing for the recently departed.
As young girls, Amy and Julie loved riding in the hearse and riding in the back in the midst of heavy traffic on the 35W following the hearse. They loved to shock drivers behind by quickly opening the curtains and shouting “boo.” The petrified look in the drivers faces was thrilling. The girls did not know what a “hearse” was, and just called it the “pretty car with the curtains.”
It is not clear whether the interest in hearses was due to my love of the movie "Harold and Maude," or whether it was because I was always the alter boy at St. Jude’s Church who got to go to Calvary Cemetary with full motorcycle escort when I was in 8th Grade. I do think it was simply that the advertising expenses were zero. Yes, when I was on the road, my CB handle was “Hearseman.
This is simply an example of “natural advertising.” I will have other examples in further posts.
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