Daddy's Christmas

I pulled this picture off-line, but it is the exact same outside as my father's Magnavox. Apparently, the model name was "The American." These old things are selling now for around $500 whether they work or not. Question: Can you still get tubes to repair them?

The set-up in dad's Magnavox was a little different than this one. The drawer where the record player comes out was actually on the left, and the top was split so that the side that had the record player (the top cubby-hole) lifted up in order to put the records on the spindle. Where you see the record player drawer, was where the speaker was housed. The bottom-left cubby-hole is where he stored his favorite, or the children's favorite records.

I was a small child when my father bought himself a very large Christmas present.

"Rose" he said, "Listen to this."

Well, listen she (and we) did!

Daddy bought himself a Magnavox High Fidelity combination radio/record player in a beautiful mahogany cabinet. Where he got the money for it, I haven't a clue, except he bought it the year his step-mother died. And, I, being too young to understand things such as inheritances just assumed daddy had bought himself a wonderful gift.

But was it so wonderful?

Well, for dad, it was. But, I think one of his purposes was to either drive me (and my mom) nuts, or make us deaf. The deafness certainly has come to pass for me, and before he died himself.

Anyway, this wonderful radio/record player combo was a real boon for our family. I recall listening to "I Love Judy" on Sunday evenings, watching the radio, and visualizing all that was being done and said on that show.

Each evening we would gather for at least one radio show and I and my sister would sit on the floor right in front of the radio and listen to the show, transporting ourselves into the box, and seeing those wonderful programs such as: The Shadow Knows; The Lone Ranger; Sergeant Preston of the Yukon -- those were my favorites.

And the records: Dad signed us up for the Big Jon and Sparky record club and each month we would get a new record which was either a story or a set of songs related to the program. We just loved those records and they were in different colors, not just black.

Dad's Christmas tradition, and here's where the deafness comes in, was to play the Messiah on Christmas morning. He would turn the bass up (or down) to it's fullest., and turn the volume up as far as he could get away with before my mom went over and not-so-gently turned it down. After all, we has four screaming, over-active children in a very small house, who had just opened their Christmas present. More noise we didn't really need.

I suppose dad turned it up so he could hear it over the children's noise. He would announce:
"Listen to this, Rose." Bass turned at full blast, floor shaking, he would sit in his captain's chair by the Magnavox and seem to be in bliss as he shook along with the floor as the music emanated from the record player's speaker.

Of course, the bass on that machine was nothing compared to what came out later in the 20th century, but dad sure did enjoy his Magnavox through the years. And so did we.

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Christmas Cards

I know I keep harping on the same subject. Christmas cards. This will be my last missive this year on this topic.

Well, I didn't get any written again this year, except as I mentioned before the ones to the grandchildren. I don't know how my mother did it. Except to say, as far as I knew, she didn't have arthritis in her hands (or anyplace else for that matter). If she did she never complained about it, except to say, she hated getting old. To that I can relate.

Writing the few cards I did write was not pleasant because of the arthritis in my hands. It's amazing though that keyboarding (typing) doesn't hurt, nor does playing the piano. I wonder why that is? I guess squeezing the hand and the way a pen is held uses different muscles, tendons, and pulls on the bones in a different way. And, oh yes, my dad would be so proud that I'm still using a fountain pen to write out my cards. I do prefer a fountain pen to a ball point or gel pen, but they are hard to find. I have one that is on it's last legs, I'm afraid, and my old Esterbrook is gone for good. Oh, I still have it physically, but the bulb inside into which the ink supplied was siphoned, wore out. I know of no place that replaces just that part of the pen, if it is replaceable at all. And all those extra style points I have for my Esterbrook.

If you don't know what an Esterbrook pen is, Google it, and for those in the family that read this you will remember my father always had an Esterbrook pen in his pocket, and he would, when using it, make a bit ta-doo about removing the cap, and swinging his arm to just so, and with a flourish would begin writing. I can see that so vividly. Dear daddy and his pens. He would have made a great President of the US at a signing ceremony.


I'm wondering, though, did my grands get the cards? Did the USPS do their thing and deliver them in a timely manner? I realize we've had snow almost every day since the beginning of December, and that may have delayed the cards getting to their appointed address on time, but I did mail them at least a week before Christmas.

I suppose in this day and age with IMs, texting, and e-mails -- and even e-mails are passe, aren't they, what with Facebook and Twitter -- getting mail may not be the thrill it was when I was a girl.

I longed for those cards at Christmas time, and birthdays. I was so pleased when daddy would allow me to open one or two of the cards -- the ones addressed to "The Drexler Family", and yes, especially the ones addressed to "Judith Drexler". Even though I never went by that name, all dad's family and former parishioners knew me by that name, thus, I would get cards at Christmas time to that name. If a card happened to come to Judy, or after 5th grade to Judi when I cut out the "th", I was thrilled. And I kept those cards in a special box for a long, long time.

Do children do that today? Do they enjoy getting REAL mail, mail delivered to their door, put in a special box, and affixed with almost a half-dollar's worth of stamps? Maybe when I see the children in a few days, I'll find out.

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No cards this year

May 2010

I did not write out cards this year (except to the grands). My hands don't write well anymore and it's a chore to handwrite all those cards. So I just didn't do it.

My mom never missed a year until she was in her late 70s. I'm in my late 60s, does that count? Obviously, I'm not as conscientious as my dear mom.

I was thinking as I was wrapping gifts and trying to tie the ribbons with my two hands, instead of having a child to put his or her finger in place so I could get a tight knot on the ribbon, how I used to love doing that chore for my mother. And I also loved licking the stamps for the cards. Of course, now they have self-stick stamps, which really is a blessing. No more paper cuts on the tongue. And, of course, I loved curling the paper ribbons. I still do love doing that job.

I hope you all have a Blessed Christmas, and that you take time to recall why we have a holiday on December 25 each year. The purpose is to celebrate the birth of our dear Lord Jesus Christ who came to earth as a baby, lived among men for 30 plus years, and then was crucified, died, and then rose again, so that we can have eternal life.

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New Post

New post up on The Fat Lady Singeth. December 9, 2010.

Christmas cards

I recall my dear mother sitting at the dining room table late at night addressing Christmas cards. She had all her addresses in one book, and in that book were pieces of paper, or rather pieces of envelopes, that had more addresses that she hadn't written down in her address book. She never seemed to lose any of those pieces of paper.

I recall that she mumbled and grumbled about the chore every year, and finished it up a couple of days before Christmas Eve, just in time so the USPS would deliver the cards by Christmas.

I remember loving to help her with this chore by licking the envelopes -- the glue tasted good. And sticking the stamps on the envelopes -- the glue on the stamps also tasted good.

I mention this because I am sitting at my computer and there are "monsters in the closet." Those monsters are unwritten, non-addressed Christmas cards.

I never sent out Christmas cards until Alan decided to run for our community board of directors and then he asked me to send a Christmas card to each household in the community (that would be 166 cards). I (at that time) knew most of the folks who lived in our neighborhood. That has changed somewhat in the past 10 years. People have passed on, and others have moved on. But, there are still a good number of residents who have been here for the 10 years we've been here (Is it 10 years already?) and so I decided since Alan is once again running for the Board I should send out Christmas cards to at least the people we both know.

So this pile of boxes of Christmas cards stares me in the face every time I enter my office and I feel guilty because I haven't written up the cards yet.

I have a friend who, of course, has written all her cards up already. In fact, she had them finished way before Thanksgiving. There's always a friend like that, isn't there? I probably have a niece or nephew's wife (the women address the cards, not the men) who also is so organized that they have written out their cards for this year already.

So, if you get a card from me, count yourself privileged. If you don't get a card, don't think I wasn't thinking of you, because I was. You know who you are -- those I'm thinking of. Maybe when it gets closer to Christmas I'll just write a list of all those I'm thinking of and let it go at that. In the meantime...

Does it count that I bought the stamps?

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Another saying of my father's

I have posted so many sayings we Drexlers had when I was growing up. Well, last night, I thought of another one, and my one hope was that I would remember it until today (Tuesday). I did!

That saying from my father was one word which was uttered most often when he was trying to open a package or a pill bottle with the child-proof lid. He had arthritis very badly in his hands and so anything that needed extra work to be done with his hands was painful and usually had to be passed off to my mother.

Anyway, folks, are you ready for it? Family: are you ready? Do you remember?

The one-one expletive was: Dagnabit. Pronounced with all short sounds on the vowels: dag nab it.

I remember it well!

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New post at RRR

Runnemede Remembered Recipes, November 7, 2010 -- new posting. http://www.runnemederememberedrecipes.blogspot.com


Love my new knives. I bought a ceramic knife and one of those new Yokio (or whatever) knives. Boy do thy work great. I love a sharp knife. And while I take good care of the knives I do have, I only have a couple of other ones that I use frequently.

One is a knife I received from my mother for a wedding shower gift, and it is the sharpest large knife I own. I also have two of her knives -- handed down to me after she died, both are small paring knives, but they are great for pealing skins off peaches or apples, and cutting celery into small pieces. But they are not good for smashing garlic or slicing meat. They are too small, but I do love them.

They were always in mom's knife box, which hung on the wall of the kitchen cabinet right next to the sink. The cabinets were blue -- a blue that came to be known as Williamsburg blue. Who knew we were in style before it was the style to be in style. And the knife box was only one row deep, but it hung on the wall and each slot had it's own knife and boy did we hear about it if we got the wrong knife in the wrong slot.

No such luck in my kitchen. I'm still waiting for my knife magnet board to be put up -- it's only 5 years. No nagging in this family!!!

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