Burma Shave

I was thinking about Burma Shave for some reason and thought it would be fun to see if a.) I really have anyone reading my blog and b.) would they comment if asked.

Burma shave was originally a liniment and then a brushless shaving product which, according to Wikipedia, created an advertising solution to their slacking sales. "Burma-Shave sign series appeared from 1925 to 1963 in most of the contiguous United States. The exceptions were New Mexico, Arizona and Nevada (deemed to have insufficient road traffic), and Massachusetts (eliminated due to that state's high land rentals and roadside foliage).

Six signs were placed at intervals along the roadside and together, created a short poem. I think it was genius advertising because to this day, I can remember seeing the following one. I believe it was on the drive to our father's hunting cabin in the Pennsylvania Mountains:

Going somewhere?

Coming back?

Drink can

Throw you

Off the track.

Burma Shave

I even discovered a website listing all of the jingles (although I could not find this one) - http://www.burma-shave.org/.

So, if anyone has a favorite that they remember, please email it to me at cgcaplan@aol.com and I will post it. Happy Memories and Happy New Year!

Nancy Skriner Huber in Phyllup, Washington wrote "Our family took road trips down south.. or over to the Civil war battlefields in Pa..or Amish country... my twin brother and I so enjoyed those Burma Shave signs! Good memories... we also liked the Mail pouch tobacco bill boards painted on the old red barns out in the Ohio country side." Nancy remembered this one -
a peach/ looks good/ with lots of fuzz/ but a man's no peach/ and never was/ Burma Shave

Anonymous - http://oldfortyfives.com/DYRT.htm

Holiday Cheer

The holiday season would not be complete, for me, without this little red beauty - the Bacardi Cocktail.

My former husband's father made this drink every Christmas Eve. According to my former sister-in-law, Susan Urich Hildebrand, "The Bacardi saga began about 1948 when Grace and John now had 2 kids to do Christmas for. Doug and I would go to bed on Christmas Eve and there would be nothing in the house. Nothing, not a tree or other decorations. But when Doug and I woke up on Christmas morning, it was wondrous, it was all there, the tree, the decorations, and the presents. It looked like the room had been filled overnight by Santa. But we know that it was Grace and John who did all the work. Putting up the tree and wrapping the packages. They said often Doug and I would wake up as soon as they got into bed. They would spend all night making this happen for Doug and me. And they would drink a lot of Bacardis."

I first started imbibing in the tart treats around 1970 and haven't missed a year since. This year, in order to create the photo, I mixed up a batch a week early. Shocking! No, not really. I need fortitude when I watch my Brown's games.

The drink was mixed by Grandad (John) Urich by taste and tinkering until 1989, when for some unknown reason (premonition?), he actually wrote the recipe down. He died the following summer, on his beloved club's golf course. So, how can we not carry on this tradition when there is such a wonderful legacy involved?

The drink itself is incredibly tart. My ex, Doug, hated the drink because it gave him horrendous heartburn. I find the taste to be wonderfully complimentary to the savory and salty snacks and appetizers of the season. And, if there are leftovers on Christmas morning, it goes quite nicely with the sweetness and richness of cookies. How do I know this? Well, how do mothers survive Christmas and all of the insane work and preparations? Duh!

I am sharing the recipe in honor of Grandad. But beware - if you have to help Santa and assemble any toys - please do that before you start imbibing.

Cheers!!

9 oz. rum
4 oz. grenadine
3 oz. lime juice
3 oz lemon juice

Blend with a few ice cubes. Serve over ice. Be ready to pucker up so get the mistletoe ready.

My Christmas Letter

It has been a wonderful year. But, the truth is, I don't live a perfect life. So my Christmas letter doesn't come in a red or green envelope with a holiday themed return address label. And, there are no cute snowmen stickers, and no glitter. And, no USPS holiday stamp.

My Christmas letter does come with my realities. Harry and I are healthy and amazingly happy. We are constantly appreciative of how content we are with each other! No, we don't have enough money in the bank to make the retirement future airtight and carefree. The economy affects us just as it does most everyone. But, we have more than what we need. Dinner is on the table every night and it shows in our waistlines (which by the way is shrinking for Harry on his new diet). We don't worry about where we will get our next meal, or if we will have clean water to drink. We can bathe as often as we would like, and in hot water. We don't use a hole in the dirt as a toilet. In fact, we have more toilets than residents in our home. We know that if we get sick, we can find a nearby medical facility to help us and no matter what our income, we would never be turned away. We do not worry at night about how we will survive. In fact, our worries seem pretty petty.

We do not have to bribe anyone to operate our business. We can gripe about rules and regulations, without fear of retribution. We do not live in fear of our personal safety. We gate our home to keep the pets in and not the neighbors out. Our home is heated on cold nights and air conditioned on hot ones. We have TV, Internet, cable, wireless, iPads, iPhones and newsprint to tell us the truths about what is happening around the globe. There is no censorship. We can criticize our government, and we can state our religious views without fear.

We have cars, fuel and access to nearby airports giving us the ability to travel all over the world. How hard we work determines our ability to indulge in recreation. The opportunities are endless. We were blessed with the intelligence and the moral foundation presented by our families to fulfill our potentials and therefore indulge ourselves in our leisure time. But, a great amount of luck was involved. Where we were born and who our families were let us live this incredible life.

Our children are thriving. They are honest, hard working and ethical. None are self destructive. All have clear priorities about hierarchies of what is important - their families and friends first, and careers second. All were given mental and physical health and the ability to succeed. Our grandchildren are, of course, exceptionally bright, gifted and charming. That is not an exaggeration...

We are surrounded with amazing family and lifetime friends. I especially appreciate the harmony I experience with my siblings. I believe it is important to let go of those persons who cause you pain, and embrace those who bring joy. And, there are always new persons to enter in a life and enrich it. There is no limit to how much love you can share.

So, this holiday season I will allow myself to chuckle at the Christmas letters I receive that feel a bit like gloating, and I will be saddened by those that bear bad news. I will enjoy and savor the ones that share news and photos to bring me closer to the sender's lives. Whether you celebrate the religious historical meaning of the holidays, or just enjoy the sparkle and festive aspects, I hope that you find some joy and spend a few moments reflecting on the miracle of just how wonderful your life is.

The Yard

A couple of orchids are blooming on the trees right now. I still get such a kick out of the fact that they are epiphytes and hang on with roots only, getting what they need from the air and rain and bird poop. Isn't nature grand? They are survivors!

Thanksgiving Song

My father sang this song to us every Thanksgiving, and I in turn sang it (albeit poorly since I am tone deaf) to my children. You will be happy that you cannot hear me sing it but I will write the lyrics, nonetheless. Let the tradition continue...

If Turkeys were tall

As telegraph poles

And ten times wider and fatter

Who'd do the carving

To keep us from starving

And what would we use for a platter?

Happy Thanksgiving 2011!

Douglas Howard Caplan

Today would have been Douglas's 44th birthday. Doug was my husband's oldest child, and my stepson. He took his own life in February of 2007.

Suicide is one of the taboo topics, like miscarriage, that leave the grieving people who experienced the loss feeling isolated and incomplete. Nothing stops conversations as quickly as the mention of having lost a child, and especially, how. You can almost hear the thoughts running through the other person's mind and the curiosity they have about how and why.

Douglas was handsome and charming and yet also darkly disturbed and mentally ill. As he aged, his functioning declined. He was involved with drugs at a young age and seemed to have a life that flirted on the edge of a drug world that most of us know nothing about. He was diagnosed as bi-polar. He did not like taking medication though, and did not stay on any regimen consistently. He had Hepatitis C and we do not know how he got it. We always suspected IV drug use as the cause. He drifted in and out of AA although he did not drink very much. I think the AA support helped him when he felt the drug use (mostly marijuana in later years) was getting out of hand. I always felt that the marijuana calmed his manic episodes but actually he got worse the more he smoked.

There were years of normalcy. A job as a construction carpenter. The development of a business making surf board cases. A marriage to a wonderful woman and two children born. Then, suddenly, he wanted a divorce. The ex-wife moved back to Brazil with his blessing and took his children with her. And, from that time on, his life seemed to deteriorate. He missed his children. He left the construction work. He could not support himself and his children and needed financial help from his father and grandfather and the more help he received, the more difficult he became. His last year of life, he was isolated from his sister and his father and only communicated with his mother. He alternated his relationships. When he was speaking to his father, he trashed his mother, and visa versa. Everyone stepped on eggshells in order to help him. And then, a call came. That he was found dead on the morning Harry's brother was going to take him to see a Psychiatrist. He had been agitated, hallucinating, had thrown away his cell phone and abandoned his car. His home was bare. Minimalistic living. Much of the furniture we had given him over the years was gone. Nothing was in the refrigerator but a bag of carrots. I found the notes on his desk which were his beliefs that he had solved the DaVinci code. He was clearly sick and I was angry. Why had Harry's father and brother not called us to inform us of how bad his functioning was. That is, of course, the 20/20 hindsight that we all have when we feel we should have done something else. In reality, I know that many people tried to help him. Many were manipulated by him. And many people were left with very confusing feelings about him.

His life was so complex that his sister, who did the funeral eulogy, created two versions. The one for the funeral and the one for her and her parents. The truths that had to be kept private, so that mourners could leave with positive thoughts and memories of a man the way they wanted to see him. But, no one will ever really know Douglas. He took a lot of the truths with him the night he left us.

Delray Beach

Harry and I visited Matt, Megan, Jack and Ruby in Delray Beach this past Friday. The kids were there with Megan's family to attend her brother Ryan's wedding to Julie Wise. We scooted up for a pre-festivity visit. It was, of course, great to see M&M and kids but also, to see Megan's siblings, parents and grandma since we like them all so much.

Delray was so great. I love the name. Makes me think of the 50's - perhaps because of the alliterations - like, "let's go see Dick Dale and the Deltones down in Delray." And, it looked like Florida of the 50's. No condo high rises lining the lovely beach. They stayed in Wright's on the Beach (love the name) and it was perfect. My kinda place - just like Harry and my favorite funky little motel in Sanibel - the Shalimar. Right on the beach, pool, rooms with little kitchen areas, sand tracked in everywhere. That is vacation. Screw Holiday Inn Express. You can stay there and be anywhere in the world and you would wake up and not have a clue where you are since they all look the same.

Delray Beach had a lot more going for it though. Lots of little restaurants with outdoor seating, shops and a small downtown area that was walking friendly. I was impressed and will head back. The American Orchid Society headquarters in nearby, which will be a destination. Add some good golf and that is a weekend!