When I was in Meijers (regional grocery chain) I noticed that they had corn pots for sale. They were prominently displayed on the end of the isle in the cooking section.

They peaked my curiosity. A pot, just for cooking corn. I wondered what made them so special for cooking corn.

Were they like a rice cooker? Did they guarantee perfect corn every time? Did they have a heat and hold feature? I had to check them out.

As I examined them, they look like an enamel pot that was the color of light yellow. (I guess the light yellow color was to look like corn.) Since they weren’t electric, I thought that they must have some special rack on the inside of the pot.

Perhaps it is a rack that allows you to steam the corn. Or maybe its a rack that makes for easier removal of the corn. But, when I examined the inside of the pot, it was empty.

Nothing electric, nothing inside, no moving parts, what makes this pot so special that it has earned the name of “corn pot”? The best that I can come up with is the yellow color of the enamel coating.

P.T. Barnum had it right all along.

What ever happened to hemorrhoids? When I was a kid, it seemed like all adults had problems with their hemorrhoids. In fact, there was a renowned rectal clinic in Grand Rapids, Ferguson’s, that specialized in removing hemorrhoids.

The place became a status symbol and hemorrhoids were in vogue. People would say, “you know, I went to Ferguson’s last year.” and immediately, everyone knew what you were talking about. And along with it would come the testimonials “it was the best thing that I  ever did. Should have done it years ago.”

Both of my parents had their hemorrhoids removed there. So did my uncle and the neighbors and the friends of my parents. It seemed like every one had hemorrhoids removed there. The place was so famous that even Bob Hope had his hemorrhoids removed there.

Growing up, I figured that by the age of 40, I too would be going there. But then one day, the clinic closed and hemorrhoid problems seemed to disappear from the face of the earth.

What happened to hemorrhoids? Had Preparation H been that successful?

My father always blamed vinyl car seats for causing his hemorrhoids. He claimed that they were hot in the summer and cold in the winter so he always sat on a piece of carpet. But, I doubt that Bob Hope had vinyl car seats though I suppose the hot/cold thing would also apply to leather car seats.

Anyway, occasionally I run across someone with hemorrhoid problems but not very often, not like I used to. Maybe it is due to advances in medicine. Maybe it is due to advances in car seats. What ever it is, the clinic closed and hemorrhoids are no longer in vogue. Hemorrhoids have been replaced with ED and enlarged prostates.

We had the Bennet family reunion the other Saturday. In keeping with tradition, it was held at Lumber Jack Park.

I got to see cousins that I have never seen before as well as cousins that I haven’t seen in forty years. One of these long lost cousins was Mikie.

When I was growing up, I knew her as Maxine. Over the years, I guess she got the nick name of Mikie. She was the daughter of uncle Dick and aunt Butch. I think that aunt Butches real name was Bernice but I don’t know for sure. She was always referred to as aunt Butch.

Any way, Mikie also has a younger sister that went by the name of Hoppie. I think that her real name is Laura Kay, but again, I only knew her as Hoppie so I am not sure. After all, it has been forty years or more.

I’m sorry, I digress.

Seeing a cousin who is about my age, after all of these years, is a bit of a shock to the system. So many memories, so much history.

What has her life been like? Is she happy? Is she married. Does she have any children? So many questions, so little time.

She was happy to see me and said that she hadn’t seen me in over five years. That is a safe statement but I think it would be more like 45 years. But yet, even though I don’t really know her, I feel the need to reach out to her, to get to know her.

She is definitely a colorful individual. Judging by the number of rings on her fingers, I would say that she has an artistic side to her.

She lives in Riverdale which is about two miles south of Lumber Jack Park. She gave us her telephone number and told us to stop in anytime. She even said that if we stop at the bar in Riverdale, just ask them to give Mikie a call and she would be happy to come over and have a beer with us.

I think that I might just do that the next time we are in the area. We may even make a special trip.

The Bennet (my mother’s family) reunion was held the other day at Lumber Jack Park.

Lumber Jack Park is in an area where most of my aunts and uncles lived, so all of us cousins are used to having family reunions at the park. It has become tradition.

Lumber Jack Park is out in the middle of nowhere, but it is a nice little park. Unfortunately, there is no running water to speak of and no real toilets, only portapotties which needed to be emptied about two weeks ago. But, at least they didn’t smell bad.

There were probably about 50 people there, though I didn’t know very many. While I knew most of my cousins, it was their children that I had no idea of who they were.

Everyone was to bring a dish to pass and the reunion would provide barbeque’s and drinks. The food was good and there was plenty of it.

After we ate, there was a white elephant auction. Every one was asked to bring a wrapped item. Then, these items were auction off with the bidders not knowing what they were bidding on. It proved to be quite humorous.

I noticed that there were two large boxes that were the same size and shape and were wrapped in the same Christmas wrapping paper. When the first of the two boxes was put up for bid, I couldn’t resist, especially when they noted that it was quite heavy. So, I bid on it. At thirteen dollars, it was mine.

When I opened it, I discovered that I had purchased a four foot artificial Christmas tree complete with lights. Well, for thirteen dollars, I felt like I had gotten my moneys worth.

When the second of the two boxes came up for auction a few minutes later, I was pretty sure that it was another artificial Christmas tree. If it was, then I would have two identical trees.

I think that everyone else guessed that the box contained another Christmas tree so there was not much interest in bidding. For eleven dollars, the box was mine and yes, it was another tree identical to the first.

I now have two artificial Christmas trees complete with lights. Maybe I can put one on either side of the driveway. Or, on either side of Pinky. (Pinky is a flamingo made out of red rope lights that sit out in our yard.)

One woman, a relative of some sort, bid five dollars on a mystery gift. It turned out to be a roll of toilet paper. And since the portapotty didn’t have any, she was willing to sell some at a dollar a sheet.

One of my cousins, Vicky, painted a picture that was the envy of all of my other cousins. She said that she was going to donate it to the white elephant sale, but she, her self, couldn’t be there.

Since the last item up for bid was a box large enough to hold the painting, everyone assumed that the painting was in that box. So the bidding was fast and high. I think that it sold for about fifty dollars.

When the box was opened, it was not the painting. It was a candle holder instead. Apparently, the picture never made it to the auction.

I ended up with two artificial Christmas trees and a fish bowl. I have plans for the trees so all was not lost.

All and all, we stayed about 5 hours. At the end, I was really tired.

I saw an ad for a pasta pot the other day in a magazine. It was only $238.00 and came with a matching lid, spoon, spoon holder and trivet.

The ad claimed that the pot would let you make pasta the old fashion way. First you cook some vegetables and then add your pasta along with some broth. And while you are waiting for it to cook, you can put your special spoon in the combination spoon holder handle. Then, when it is done, you can set the pot right on the table and serve your pasta ala Jed Clampett.

Well, for $238.00 I can’t say that you are getting that much for your buck. But hey, I am sure that there are people who are willing to pay that kind of money. Fortunately, I am not one of them. If I want to make pasta rissoto style, I can make it in my All-clad pot.

I have a new BF or best friend, I guess, though her name eludes me at present. The whole thing is a little strange.

I was at Meijer’s (regional grocery chain) the other night when this woman, about my age, came up to me and introduced herself to me. She said that she often sees me in the store and thought that she should introduce herself to me.

I immediately checked her left hand for a ring. And while I realize that the presence or absence of a ring does not guarantee marital status, at least it is helpful in assessing the situation. In this particular case, she had on a ring so I was some what assured that she was not in the immediate market for a man.

After the introduction came that moment of awkward silence. So, what do total strangers talk about? Why the weather of course. She broke the silence by asking if it was going to rain tonight. I told her no but that it was going to rain tomorrow and the next day. She smiled and said that she would hold me to that as she started off with her cart.

I wish I could remember her name.

During the 60s, Washington street in downtown Lansing was a popular place for teens on Friday and Saturday nights. Hundreds of kids would hang out or drive up and down Washington street. Washington street became known as the Gut.

Of course, not only did they hang out on the Gut, they also frequented the businesses on the Gut. They went to the movies, ate at the hamburger joints, and shopped at the boutiques. In short, they kept downtown Lansing alive.

But alas, all good things must come to a end. In the 70s, a visionary declared that the Gut must be closed. Instead of a street, it must be turned it into a pedestrian mall.

The mall was a tribute to modern culture. It had a fountain, at little theater area, benches and planters for shrubs. In short, Lansing cleaned up its downtown or should I say, they sanitized it.

Daunted by the fact that you could no longer cruise the Gut, the teen drivers moved on. And when the teen drivers left, so did the teen walkers. And when the teens left, so did the businesses.

The movie theater closed for good as did the boutiques. The hamburger joints started closing at three as there was no business after the lunch hour rush. By 5PM downtown Lansing looked like a ghost town.

Soon, all of the major retail businesses closed. With no one coming downtown, they couldn’t afford to stay open. They were replaced with coffee shops and food joints catering to the breakfast and lunch needs of state workers.

So, where is this all headed? Well guess what? After 30 years, Lansing decided that the mall isn’t working so, they are putting the road back in.

Of course, the Gut is gone and will never return. And they can’t put Washington street back to the way it was because LCC (Lansing Community College) has taken over the old road next to the campus. So, the only thing that they are getting out of this is one more block of parking.

Your tax dollars at work for what its worth.

We purchased a new microwave oven the other day. It has 50% more power than our old one so it cooks much faster. Plus, it is bigger.

It basically operates like our old one but there are some differences. For one, there is no door handle. Instead, it has a button that we push to open the door. We were kind of used to the handle but we will get by.

Another thing is that our old microwave had a temperature probe. By using the probe, we could bring our food up to a set temperature and hold it there for hours. This was great for slowing cooking stuff like spaghetti sauce or chile.

When our old microwave finished cooking, it would beep at us every minute to remind us that our food was done. With the new one, it beeps four times and then continuously scrolls “enjoy your meal” across the display until we remove the food.

So, if we happen to be looking at the microwave and see the display, we are reminded that we have food in there. If not, the food stays in there until the next time we need to use it.

We will adjust.

As a first semester Freshman, I had absolutely no social standing. This meant that I had not established any solid new friendships.

My roommate, who was also a first semester Freshman, and I shared the suite with two Sophomores. The one Sophomore was into the hippy life style and spent most of his days living in a tee pee in the woods with his girlfriend so he was seldom around. Unfortunately, our other suite mate was the problem and he was always around.

As a Freshman, my suite mate had been a member of a dorm gang. While not officially a gang in the sense of a street gang, they and their antic were, none the less, a force to be reckoned with. Their behavior was so bad that the college made a conscience decision to split them up and move them into different dorms. In short, they were a bunch of punks from Detroit.

Now, my suite mate carried that same attitude over into his Sophomore year. And since my room mate and I were new to the campus, we were prime targets for his sadistic actions.

Every now and then, he would assemble the old gang for the sole purpose of terrorizing us. They would come waltzing into our room, grab us and give us swirlies. (sticking our heads in the toilet and flushing it.)

Just by their sheer numbers, we were deemed helpless. The best we could do was to be passive victims. Any attempt at resistance would only add to their gratification.

As fate would have it, one week into my second semester, I received notice from my National Guard unit that I was being sent to basic training. And, since I would not be able to finish the semester, I made preparations to leave school.

The very day that I was leaving school, my suite mate, the terrorist, left for Detroit for the weekend. And since I had not told him of my departure from school, I held the element of surprise.

Armed with a can of shaving cream and a tube of tooth paste, I sought my revenge. First to his closet where I filled his freshly laundered shirt pockets with shaving cream then to his pants and shoes with the tooth paste. Next, I short sheeted his bed and sprinkled it with salt. Finally, I peed on his tooth brush.

I could have done worse things to him but I just wanted him to be the helpless victim for a change. I know it was juvenile behavior on my part but it sure felt good. And since he was at the end of a two year auto mechanics program, I was pretty sure I would not be seeing him again in the fall.

When the terrorist returned to his room on Sunday night, he went into a rage. My old room mate had made a point in not being around as he did not wish to be the focus of his anger.

However, a friend of mine from high school, who was living on the same floor with me, just happened to be around for the discovery. He said that it was quite humorous to see the tirades and even went on to point out the obvious to him; revenge is sweet.

All of this was reported to me when I was home on leave eight weeks later. And so, to give the knife a twist so to speak, I asked my high school friend to tell Mr. Terrorist about peeing on his tooth brush. This he did with much delight as he observed another tirade.

To this day, I smile about the event. And while I suppose that it is possible that I will run into him again some day, I find it highly unlikely.

The local liqueur store is offering “live bait”. Yum! I know that I really want some!

While they offer liqueur they also offer chips, cheese and jerky. Some thing for everyone. But now, it is live bait.

Perhaps you need some extra worms for you tequila. Maybe you want some fried crickets. How about some grubs; they taste like shrimp!

But, I guess it stands to reason that a liqueur store sells live bait. After all, fishermen do drink while they fish so why not sell them some bait to go with their beer.

They should also sell condoms.  They too would be a natural fit.