by jphilo | Nov 20, 2015 | Family
Today’s the last day I’m in my home town. I walked by the house where I grew up and where Dad encouraged me to play fast and loose with shellack. This Fantastic Friday post revisits that memory and one of my few bonding moments with President Obama.
shellacking: present participle of shel·lac (Verb)
1. Varnish (something) with shellac.
2. Defeat or beat (someone) decisively: “they were shellacked in the election”.
First, Obama won the Nobel Peace Prize. Now he’s reviving dead language. Our president is proving to be quite the leader, at least in areas he hadn’t planned to pursue.
After his famous admission that the “Democrats took a shellacking” in the midterm elections, media groupies have used the word with the fervor of young adolescents imitating the most popular kid in middle school. According to the Christian Science Monitor, “It was Obama’s use of the word ‘shellacking’ that had the blogosphere talking.”
All I know is that every time I turn on the radio, broadcasters and talk show hosts work the word into their copy. They use it with eagerness and obvious pride, their intonation hinting at their delight and pride in using the same word the coolest guy ever in the White House uses. Pretty cool, huh? Huh?
They’re loving keeping up with the big guy, but I’ve had about had my fill of shellacking. In fact, I haven’t been this fed up with the stuff since the summer of sixth grade. Mom was gone for a week or two, taking graduate classes for her masters degree. In her absence, Dad worried that I wouldn’t have my 4-H project – refinishing an old end table – done for the county fair. So he roped our elderly neighbor into helping me glue and clamp the pieces together. Then Dad wheeled out to the garage to direct the staining, sanding, and varnishing stages.
He had me load the brush a little too heavily, coat after coat, so the shellac formed unsightly runs and ridges. My half-hearted sanding efforts between coats didn’t improve matters. The end result was less than stellar, and project only earned a red ribbon at the county fair. A real shellacking in my blue ribbon family.
To this day, every time I walk by that little end table in our upstairs hall, my shellacking debaucle comes to mind. Makes me wonder if Obama regrets his overloaded word choice as much as I regret overloading the paint brush years ago. Anyway, I think it’s pretty cool that the same word taught me and the big guy the same lesson – albeit through alternate meanings.
A little shellacking goes a long way. And don’t we both know it?
by jphilo | Mar 3, 2014 | Family
Thank you.
Two words I wanted to say to C. J. Gauger face-to-face at his 100th birthday Saturday. But a snowstorm and frigid temperatures thwarted my plans. So today’s post is devoted to thanking a man who touched my parents and their young family in profound and positive ways.
Thank you…
for taking an interest in Harlan Stratton, my dad, in the mid-1950s when he was hired as Youth Extension Director in Plymouth County and later as Mills County Extension Director. Thank you for mentoring him and taking an interest in his wife and kids.
Thank you…
for observing a stumble in Dad’s gait as he walked away from you after at a 4-H function and telling a co-worker, “Something’s wrong with Harlan. We need to be ready to stand beside him and support his family.”
Thank you…
for acting upon those words after Dad was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis in 1959–for calculating exactly how many days, minus vacation and sick days, he needed to work to reach the five year mark and qualify for a Civil Service pension.
Thank you…
for arranging for Dad’s Extension Office co-workers to pick him up for work once he couldn’t drive, to complete his paperwork once he couldn’t write, to read to him when his vision blurred, until Dad reached the five year mark.
Thank you…
for a pension that allowed my parents to buy a house built for a wheelchair, something they couldn’t afford to do on Mom’s teaching salary and in the absence of Social Security, which Dad didn’t receive until 1990 when he was 62.
Thank you…
for a pension, from which Mom gave Dad $40 as spending money every month. Not much, even in the 1960s and 70s, but enough to allow him to purchase birthday and Christmas presents for his wife, take his family out to supper now and then, and maintain his dignity.
Thank you…
for collecting money to purchase a small life insurance policy for Dad to provide something for Mom and her three small children…just in case. When Dad died in 1997, Mom and us kids were surprised to learn about the policy. Since we didn’t need it, we used it to start the Harlan Stratton 4-H Scholarship given annually at Iowa State University.
Thank you…
for the small pension Mom still receives as Dad’s beneficiary. It’s only $211 a month, and she doesn’t really need it. So she donates part of it to the scholarship fund and spends the rest on college text books for her grandchildren.
Thank you…
for calling some years ago, after reading a newspaper article that connected me to Dad. Thank you for confessing, over the phone, the extent of your kind involvement on behalf of our family when my siblings and I were very young, when Mom was vulnerable and in need of hope.
Thank you…
for showing how a small thread of kindness weaves goodness into the fabric of a family for decades and generations until its members are strong enough and grateful enough to weave kindness into the lives of others.
Thank you…
and happy birthday, C. J. Gauger, one of the great men I have ever known.
by jphilo | Nov 24, 2010 | Current Events
shellacking: present participle of shel·lac (Verb)
1. Varnish (something) with shellac.
2. Defeat or beat (someone) decisively: “they were shellacked in the election”.
First, Obama won the Nobel Peace Prize. Now he’s reviving dead language. Our president is proving to be quite the leader, at least in areas he hadn’t planned to pursue.
After his famous admission that the “Democrats took a shellacking” in the midterm elections, media groupies have used the word with the fervor of young adolescents imitating the most popular kid in middle school. According to the Christian Science Monitor, “It was Obama’s use of the word ‘shellacking’ that had the blogosphere talking.”
All I know is that every time I turn on the radio, broadcasters and talk show hosts work the word into their copy. They use it with eagerness and obvious pride, their intonation hinting at their delight and pride in using the same word the coolest guy ever in the White House uses. Pretty cool, huh? Huh?
They’re loving keeping up with the big guy, but I’ve had about had my fill of shellacking. In fact, I haven’t been this fed up with the stuff since the summer of sixth grade. Mom was gone for a week or two, taking graduate classes for her masters degree. In her absence, Dad worried that I wouldn’t have my 4-H project – refinishing an old end table – done for the county fair. So he roped our elderly neighbor into helping me glue and clamp the pieces together. Then Dad wheeled out to the garage to direct the staining, sanding, and varnishing stages.
He had me load the brush a little too heavily, coat after coat, so the shellac formed unsightly runs and ridges. My half-hearted sanding efforts between coats didn’t improve matters. The end result was less than stellar, and project only earned a red ribbon at the county fair. A real shellacking in my blue ribbon family.
To this day, every time I walk by that little end table in our upstairs hall, my shellacking debaucle comes to mind. Makes me wonder if Obama regrets his overloaded word choice as much as I regret overloading the paint brush years ago. Anyway, I think it’s pretty cool that the same word taught me and the big guy the same lesson – albeit through alternate meanings.
A little shellacking goes a long way. And don’t we both know it?
