Tiddle-a-Wink the Barber

Was thinking about Mom's piano playing and this tune popped into my head, Tiddly Winks, so looked up on web.

Here it says it is an American song, but the website is UK, which I always believed, and of course it does sound better in cockney than dixie twang, or does it?

American Old-time song lyrics from  www.traditionalmusic.co.uk

Tiddle-a-Wink the Barber  Sung by Tony Pastor.

Now Mister Tomkins had a son, who kept a barber's shop.
And being queer could not go there, so a note to his son did drop;
Said he old knave, I want a shave, I also really think.
Then is not one shaves like my son, whose name Is Tiddle-a-Wink.

Chorus.
Tiddle-a-Wlnk-Tiddle-a-Wink-Tiddle-a-Wink, the barber,
Tiddle-a-Wink-Tiddle-a-Wink-went to shave his father,
But he made a skip and cut his lip, which made the father roar,
The father knocked poor Tiddle-a-Wink bang out upon the floor.

The blood then flowed from Tomkins' mouth and very soon he found,
Where he used to put an ounce of meat there was room to put a pound;
The doctor he was quickly brought, to sew it up did try.
He looked so queer, they were all in fear, when the doctor said he must die.

Said he, I think this Tiddle-a-Wink has caused his father's death;
Then Tiddle-a-Wink with fear did blink-could scarcely catch his breath :
The father died, the son he tried some poison then to take,
But this they stopp'd and on him dropped, for making this sad mistake.

Next morn before the magistrate poor Tiddle-a-Wink they  took.
There his history to relate, and like a leaf he shook;
His solicitor soon set him free, and the people, they
Asked how the old man met his death; others they would say

Tiddle-a-Wlnk-Tiddle-a-Wink-Tiddle-a-Wink, the barber,
Tiddle-a-Wink-Tiddle-a-Wink-went to shave his father,
But he made a skip and cut his lip, which made the father roar,
The father knocked poor Tiddle-a-Wink bang out upon the floor.
___
Now you and I know the rest of the story.
Dad

In Memory of Muriel- The Preacher's Wife

In looking through a little book I have of anonymous poems this morning I found a handwritten poem by Muriel. This poem she had composed for a shower where she spoke. It was for Marion Kirk, who was engaged to a young preacher. She always found something appropriate for every occasion. I already sent a copy of it to Marion.

Thought you all would be interested in this and remembering Muriel this Christmas. It was seven years ago this week that she left us and went to her own mansion with the God she loved. Who knows what she is busy doing now, but whatever it is she will not be hindered by the frailties she left behind.

Greetings,
Don, Dad, Opa

Here is a scan of her own poem that I found. Very likely it was composed specially for the honoree and added to the other poem.

****************************

The Preacher's Wife

A preacher's wife to be ideal

Must be a woman who is real;

Not too large and not too small,

Not too short and not too tall;

Her face and form must be just fair,

She must not be at all too rare;

In dress she must be considered sane,

And yet not altogether plain.

Her house must be in perfect grace,

With everything in proper place;

Her family must not be large or small;

'Tis wrong to have no child at all,

But six or eight will never do, 

'Tis just as bad to have too few;

And folks will expect, of all things,

Her children to have angel wings.

She must lead in all the women's work

And from no task will she ever shirk;

To the Church's task she must be true;

Although to her no salary's ever due;

Oh, the wedding fees are hers perhaps,

If her husband's memory does not lapse,

But if her husband gave her all, 

Her salary, alas, would be quite small.

If God in Heaven has prepared a place,

Above the average of the race,

A mansion built in Heaven's centre,

Into which no one else can ever enter,

It is for the devoted preacher's wife

When she is done with this world of strife;

A place of quiet helpful rest,

A mansion that's the very best.

Sounds and Hearing

Have you listened this morning to the sounds you hear, including the background noises  and what they tell you, and do you wonder what other sounds are out there?  Frinstance, what sounds would be added if the cars going by on the road did not have mufflers to attenuate certain supposedly bad sounds? Now imagine the loss to the person who has a muffler that suppresses the good sounds?

After I got this new set of hearing aids I noticed something that I had never been aware of before, that music is now more within reach. Not sure how to explain it, but on looking back over my lifetime and exposure to music it makes me wonder whether my hearing has been lacking right from the beginning. What I mean is that I must not have been able to hear the full range of tones, including overtones, and thus not able to produce them. No wonder they told me to move my lips only without voice when singing.

I have never thought of myself as being tone deaf, for the difference in tone and pitch has always been evident, certainly in the lower ranges if not in the higher ones. And now I am sure that I never ever was able to hear the higher ones. For example Muriel was always bothered by very high frequency sounds that were not there for me, and I can remember from very early years my mother being the same way while I was unaware of what bothered her.

However, when I first got (good) hearing aids six years ago I discovered that when the higher ranges were amplified so that they were equal, for me, to the lower ranges that it improved my toleration for the "noisy" singing on Sunday mornings. The conclusion that I have come to may not be provable, but it seems logical to me that the human ear does do some adjustments on its own to adapt to the occasion so that the hearing sense gets sensations closer to what it expects. That means in a noisy atmosphere the sensations from all sounds, especially the loud ones, are somewhat tuned out, and in a quiet place they are sensed more acutely. Moreover the ear or hearing sense will amplify the sounds to try to get what the brain or memory expects if it has some idea of what to expect. Now, I have considered myself quite able to appreciate the tonal range and melodic qualities of music. You have to be able to do this to appreciate the extreme ranges of operatic or baroque composers, which I do.

Perhaps this explanation helps to understand why there are people who place tempo and beat above melodic qualities. Perhaps their ears are not sensing the full range. So when I realized that what used to be almost a painful experience to hear a "noisy" worship band had become tolerable I realized something was different. Before I had hearing aids, my natural hearing amplification was boosting the whole sound spectrum equally, including the lows that were already too loud, and the highs which were only imagined.  The tuned mechanical aids amplified only the higher notes that I was listening for but was unable to hear, making a more balanced and agreeable atmosphere. Therefore there was no discomfort and it was not necessary to plan to arrive late to the service after the "noise" was finished. In retrospect the same thing was happening when the sound operator turned up the volume to make the speaker more understandable, for it seemed he boosted the bass frequencies more than the higher ones. That may be helpful for people who have lost the ability to hear low tones, but it did not help me.

When I asked the man who fitted the new hearing aid what improvements had been made in the last few years he explained one new feature that intrigued me. It was in relation to how it could handle high tones, even tones that were probably never within my hearing range, but nevertheless real life tones that were used in music and contributed to the melodic and overtone effects. I'm sure his explanation was not very full, for it left me wondering how a hearing aid could translate a sound too high for me to ever have heard into something that would be complementary and pleasing. But I really believe that is what they do, for it seems now that I have more of an ear for music and expect to really hear what had before been only imaginary. It may be just imagination, but now when I am singing I can hear my own voice well enough to  tell when I am in tune. Who knows if another Beethoven was lost because the child was not diagnosed with hearing loss? Not a tin ear, but a leaden one.

Dad

I Remember the WPA

It must have been about '36 that FDR took the country by storm. I remember all the hoopla and Dad listening to it on the radio, but perhaps not the year, but must have been about then. Those were the years we drove down to Ontario for the winter because it really was depression time. We drove down from Madison to Moose Jaw and then followed the Soo Line southeast and across into the US, and there they were. The WPA working on different projects on the highways or something. Can't vouch for actually seeing seats built on to their shovels, but can remember seeing them leaning on rusty shovels, not old rust, but new rust. 

FDR today would be a blessing, at least these WPA'rs were supposed to be working, it may have been boring to shirk all day, but for those who had any work ethic at all it was better than just being given a free cell phone along with food stamps, and absolutely nothing to do. If the way to keep the votes coming is to give out free aid then these politicians should know that unless . . .

YouTube link to Louis Armstrong & The Mills Brothers: WPA

Note also that this kind of music came before rock. You can actually get the words!

Dad

Seattle Worlds Fair and the Cessna Travels

...written after a comment from a son.. I just stumbled onto a pbs program about the Seattle Worlds Fair. One hour program. Isn't that were you were in 62?

Cessna 150

Yes, and I know that you want me to say more, so I'll think about it.

I do not remember the actual incident of the jet crash in the town, but I certainly remember our 4 seater Cessna flight there and back.

Why? I do not know, for I was not on the inside of what was decided at Kirks Heating at that time, but I do know that things were all ready for it. Kirk's were on a roll and looking for more products and product improvements. Murray Kirk was in charge of this aspect for he was the youngest and most adventuresome one enjoying travel and in general keeping up with the newest industry opportunities. One of these was the Cessna that we had recently bought. It may have been a Cessna 150, but I remember that it was a nice little plane with four seats.

Perhaps one of the reasons the aircraft had been bought was to be able to quickly respond to furnace and stoker warranty situations. There had been a couple of these that I had gone out on in a rented plane that came to Three Hills and picked me up and landed me in the pasture or on the road close to the emergency. We had connections with a few of these farmer-flyers who would jump at the chance to be paid to fly, and this may have been because Frank Woods knew flying farmers and former world war pilots.

Flying and farming seemed to be a good fit because the idea of crop spraying from the air was coming in, and for ranchers who lived far from the cities it cut down hours of driving when they could fly instead. There was a clutch of these people who arranged fly-in breakfasts where they could meet new and old friends and talk about their common interests. Of course they were glad for the city people who wanted to be included, and thus some of ours got in on the breakfasts.

Flying Furnace Servicing

One time a furnace and stoker farm ventilation unit in a large chicken barn failed and the call came for quick help. Chickens are usually crowded and without proper ventilation the resultant ammonia smells would wipe out the whole investment of birds quickly, so it really meant they wanted fast service. A few more phone calls and a farmer was found who was glad to come to Three Hills and fly me to the job. I quickly packed my tool box with the tools that were indicated by the phone call, and went home, and walked over to the nearby airstrip to wait for the plane. It soon came and taxied over to where I was standing beside the gravel strip, but when he saw my tool box he began to shake his head. It was only a two passenger little kite and a tool box was like a third passenger, but finally he said he would try it.

I got in with my tool box between my feet and we taxied to the top end of the airstrip to take advantage of the downhill start. I had never been in an underpowered airplane before so I was surprised that it took almost the full length of the strip to get airborne, and we did not gain altitude very fast after that which meant we were quite aware of the barbed wire fence just a few feet below at the half mile mark. Up until then there was no talk, but once we were safely up we had a few minutes of conversation before arriving near the ailing furnace. There he picked out the smoothest part of a pasture and we bounced to a quick stop. I was out immediately with my tool box and rode to the barn in the farmer's truck while the plane flew back to its nest.

The rest of that story is gone from memory, but.we must have been able to get fresh air into the barn. It seems that Murray drove out and brought me back to Three Hills. That was one instance. Another was a school a lot further away in Saskatchewan.

Marsden School

We had installed a furnace and zone controls with two thermostats in the new school in this little town east of Wainwright just across into Saskatchewan. They had built it that summer and we did the heating, however when school started that fall one of the rooms did not heat at all—or was it heating all the time? So we were phoned and it seemed like another urgent service call. Therefore another flying farmer was called on to take us the two hundred miles. The only glitch on that flight was that there was no landing field near the town, so we had to find a smooth road. We circled around and found the highway and determined that there was no traffic then and no possibility of any traffic getting there before we were landed and stopped. I do remember the heating problem there. It was caused by the carpenter who finished off after our installation. He had nailed a strip over the thermostat wire and the nail was touching both wires so it shorted to wire and the call for heat was on all the time.

To the Worlds Fair

All that to introduce the thinking behind that Cessna we first mentioned. Murray and the directors from Calgary calculated that there would be enough uses to make it a worthwhile investment. It was kept at the Calgary airport and we were paid when Calgary pilots rented it for themselves. They would also fly it for us when we wanted to go any where, so we did not need to be licensed or have any licensed pilots. So when Murray looked at the Seattle World Fair and concluded that there would be value in going there with the inventors of the Company to look at all the world of tomorrow exhibits. Albert Boettcher and I were chosen to go with Murray and the pilot.

It was Dave Cowpersmith our lawyer from Calgary who would fly us to Seattle. He welcomed the opportunity to fly, so there were no lawyer's fees. He was a veteran of the war having been a Lancaster bomber pilot and yet living when most of them weren't. When we saw how careful he was we knew why he had had no accidents. One time I noticed that as we were landing on a large airfield that the runway was very long and very wide, and my thrifty upbringing just assumed that Dave would land close in to the terminal, for he could not possibly ever use all of that long runway to get stopped. I also assumed that he would drop in on the side of the runway that was close to the terminal. But I was wrong on both guesses, for he had the wheels on the ground at the very beginning of the course and he was in the very exact middle of the wide expanse of tarmac. Yes, he was extremely carefully fussy.

After the dates were set for the trip to Seattle and the Cessna was ready, Cowpersmith had arranged his office so he could be away, Murray was all gung-ho, and apparently Albert had his bag packed, but I had reservations. I am usually the driver and always ride in the front seat to make sure that motion sickness stayed away, but now I was to be in one of the back seats and I was not sure I would not up over everything if the plane did anything unplanned. Although large airplanes did not bother me, small ones did. Then someone suggested that some medicine from the drugstore would eliminate all sickness and problems, so I bought it and was prepared to enjoy the flight.

We were a happy quartet as we got in and buckled up in Calgary, and I had already taken the medicine, but it was not long before I began to feel sick. Not the gagging of throwing up which I had feared, but a general headache and other aches and non-gagging nausea. Far worse than the other where you get over it right away as soon as you throw up. Then when we stopped at Dulles for fuel about half way there, where I took some more medicine thinking that would help, but it did not, so the rest of the way was even worse. On such an occasion you do not suffer alone, for the others suffer too out of sympathy, and perhaps out of fear that at any time an eruption night come.

When we arrived I was still sick, but I took no more medicine and only thought of it again when it came time to fly home. As the medicine wore off I had gotten back to normal, and enjoyed all the exhibits, and when the return day arrived I had concluded that I could not feel any worse if I did get motion sickness, so I would not take any more of the stuff. That was a good choice, for the return trip was different. Perhaps I did gag a bit, but the rest of me was in good shape and the trip enjoyable.

On the way down we fueled up at Spokane and ate and left. There we turned west and soon faced the Cascade Mountains. Dave had studied the route and the maps so he knew the shortest and the best and the alternate routes, so he headed for the valley that would take us straight in to the SeaTac airport, but as soon as we were over the foothills we saw clouds ahead and he nosed the plane up to get over them. We went up quite a ways but soon were completely engulfed in clouds, so he climbed higher, but there was no opening and we could not see anything We were supposedly in a valley, but if we had gone much further there would certainly be higher mountains right beside us, so he turned around and we headed back to get out of the clouds and again have visual reference.

The clouds did disappear as we returned and then Dave said we must take the long way around by following the river. It would take us quite a bit south down to Portland from where we would turn north and follow the coast up to Seattle. That was a good decision for we could see the river and the wide valley and the mountains all the way until we arrived. Then we were off to the Seattle World's Fair.

Most of the details of the fair have been long forgotten, for very little of it was of help in the Kirk's shop. We did not see any machinery or fabrication sections, because the main attraction was the Space Needle and the parts that were close to it. The theme was not machinery that worked yesterday or even today but the future. I think one exhibit hall was named for the 25th century, and it was intentionally queer and quirky with weird lighting and architecture and sounds. Especially the sounds. Perhaps there were computers as such but not as personal use items, for that was in the future. I do remember some of the outside arches.

Seattle Space Needle

In the Space Needle there were a lot of mementos for sale and the one that interested me was a machine that you could put a penny into and get a curved flat souvenir from as the output. It may have even been free or at the most you put in a nickel and you could turn the crank that was geared down to flatten a penny out to about three times the original size with a new impression of the tower on it. Never thought that I would need one for each of 4 kids so only got one.

Of course there was the million silver dollar exhibit, but it was not for sale and it was under a glass case that made sure it all stayed there. And then the elevator from the ground level up to the top where you could look out and see almost the whole city. The Needle being near the town centre was somewhat surrounded by industrial areas, at least that was the impression from 500 feet above street level to me. Busy and older and gray with no intention of being pretty.

But the elevator was different in that it was on the outside of the Needle and the cage that you rode in had glass walls so the view was good. It overlooked the different parks and artistic structures built especially for the Fair. It also gave a good view of the Monorail which circled around to bring people in from downtown. Very impressive the slow ride to the top and being able to see almost all around as you rose.

I have no other recollection of the trip home than that I was not as sick as in going down and that we retraced the way down and were very tired when we got home. The Cessna was quite comfortable to ride in, and quiet enough so that you could converse in it, but we were not ready to start on another trip right away.

Flying to Estevan

At another time we needed to go to Estevan in southern Saskatchewan, five or six hundred miles away, either to service or to talk about stokers. The Estevan coal is different from Drumheller coal, so that could have been what we were trying to work out. That part is very dim, but the trip and the pilot are not forgotten. It probably was the Cessna that we flew there in, and it was in the late summer time of the year, after crop spraying was finished.

I drove in to Calgary and met the farmer at the airport and we started out. Can't remember whether I brought my own barf-bag or made sure there was one in the pocket, but that was definitely on the check list. It was a beautiful clear day as we started off and (forget his name) flew along the TransCanada highway, only about a quarter to half a mile to the side of it all the way. That was far easier than navigating by the map, and it was fine with me because I knew the road and I was in the navigator's seat. But he was flying only at the minimum altitude so he could look at all the fields and crops on the way. Very interesting.

As we flew we conversed and I found out that he farmed east and a bit south of Calgary and had a plane of his own, or maybe at that time he used to have a plane of his own. He told me about crop dusting and the shenanigans those people used to do. Then I remembered the fellow just north of Three Hills that they said had flown under the highway overpass just above the train tracks. Well, it seems for dusting you want to be about as close to the crop as possible so there will be no drift and waste. Perhaps only a few feet above the grain going about as slow as you dare, and when you get to the end of the field you must gun the motor and rise up and get turned around to do another swath without forgetting where you are. According to him sometimes there are telephone wires that need to be hopped, and sometimes the power lines are high enough that you can fly under them. So if it is a good day and you are alert and all the other things, you can do a lot of work, but one day he didn't make it. Apparently he was trying to fly under the wire and busted up. More damage to the plane than himself. He was glad to be flying a real plane on our trip.

At one point on the trip he turned to me and said, "Would you like to fly for a bit while I look at the fields? Keep it at about this height and that's it." No problem, since it was a dual control plane, I spelled him off for a while. I did no climbing or banking so it was as just as easy as he said it would be.

On the way home on that trip we stopped at Moose Jaw airport to fuel up where we bought a candy bar and bottle of pop. Bad, bad, because later over the Great Sand Hills I began to feel the pop starting to fizz. I knew then how stupid it was for me to have drunk it, so I began to fumble for the bag and the farmer got very concerned for his sick passenger. I knew what had to happen, that I had to throw it up, and that then everything would be fine, but he did not know that, so he suffered for me. Once the problem was in the bag I held it until we got to Medicine Hat where we left it, but he was so worried that I really felt sorry for him and had to work hard to convince him that once it was in the bag all was well.

We arrived back at Calgary safe and sound without mishap or tangling with power lines, and the purpose of the trip was accomplished.

At another time the plane was parked at the Calgary airport in a sort of nook between the hangars with no one in it when a rogue breeze came around the corner of the building and flipped it over doing a bit of damage. The insurance covered the cost of fixing it, but by then we were seeing that it was not as useful an investment as we had hoped, so it was sold. But while it lasted we had fun and it was a company expense.

It took all day to remember this stuff and get it down on paper, but it was fun living again some of the old days.

Dad