Posted tagged ‘Clark Kent’

“Food is the most primitive form of comfort.”

April 23, 2017

Weather is so relative that today’s 57˚ feels warm and springlike, a sit on the deck in the sun sort of day. I might even need sunglasses.

My sister in Colorado and I had our usual Sunday phone call. Today we found two hours worth of conversation ranging from potty training to Trump.

When I was a kid, I never spent much time on the phone. I remember the party line and Mrs. McGaffigan who shared the line. Sometimes I’d pick up the receiver and hear her voice and listen to her conversation: I’d eavesdrop. She caught me several times. I never said a word when she did. I just put the receiver down. My phone number started with ST 6. I used to love the sound of the rotary dial when it clicked back after I entered a number. The phone was black. I think all the phones back then were black.

I miss phone booths. Anytime I passed by one, I’d check the coin return. Once in a while, I’d be lucky enough to find a dime, big money back then. It never seemed strange to me that Clark Kent had room enough to change to Superman in a phone booth. I did wonder what he did with his clothes and why nobody noticed when he was changing. Maybe he was just too quick.

Back then, I didn’t know a single kid who was a skeptic. We accepted most things at face value. The movie monsters were scary. We never saw the strings propelling spacecraft. We accepted the odd looking aliens. We didn’t make fun of movies. We naturally suspended disbelief. I laugh now at those same movies, but I love them still.

Roast beef, gravy, mashed potatoes, and peas are my favorite meal. My mother cooked it for our last family dinner before I left for Peace Corps. She used to put slices of onion on top of the roast, and they were delicious. It is the best of all my comfort meals. I remember my mother peeling potatoes at the sink and my father carving the meat. I still count mashed potatoes and peas among my favorites. I don’t have roast beef all that much anymore. Roast chicken has replaced it and stuffing has been added as a side.

I don’t cook much for myself anymore. I’m into quick and easy, but I’ve found shortcuts for that chicken dinner. I buy rotisserie chicken, real, already mashed potatoes and frozen peas. I call that the modern interpretation of down home comfort food.

“Look up in the sky! It’s a bird! It’s a plane! It’s Superman!”

January 12, 2013

Today is a low-keyed day though I do have one triumph to report. A mouse now has a new residence. I caught my first one last night. It fell for the old cheese in the box routine. I noticed its capture around 10:30 last night so Gracie and I took the mouse for a ride and, in defiance of the law, relocated it a few blocks away. The mouse was a black one, and I think the same one the dog was chasing on Christmas Eve. I wish it well in its new home wherever that is.

The week has been a busy one for me, and I’m done with it. Today is a nothing day: no errands, no mice, no sun and no ambition. Maybe I’ll read, or maybe I won’t. I’m ambivalent. I’d watch the syfy channel, but today is destroy Earth day, and I’ve already seem most of them. I know the endings-the Earth is always saved.

When I was a kid, I don’t remember ever having nothing days. Monday to Friday was school, and it consumed most of my week. At this time of year, when I’d get home, the dark came too early, and it was usually too cold for playing outside in the afternoons. We’d play in the cellar instead or play a board game while lying on the living rug or watch television.

Superman was on TV every day at 4:30. It never occurred to me back then that Lois, Jimmy and Perry should have seen through Clark’s disguise and should have followed up the questions Lois always asked about Clark’s disappearance when Superman was on the scene. It looked like Superman was really flying though I knew he wasn’t. I can still remember the flying music and the sound of the wind as Superman jumped into the air then flew with arms outstretched. Clark always took off his tie first. That and the music were the sign Clark was soon to be Superman. I wondered about the suits he left in telephone booths and alleys. I figured he always went back to the storage room for the suits he left at work but what about the others.  Now I just can’t imagine his clothing allowance. I can still see in my mind’s eye the train and the shooting gun when Superman was described at the beginning of the program, “Faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive.” It was stirring to see Superman, arms akimbo, with the flag waving behind him. The world was in good hands!

“Look! Up in the sky! It’s a bird. It’s a plane. It’s Superman!”

September 30, 2011

The day is lovely, and I’m glad I have a slew of errands to do to get me out and about. Last night it poured for a while and then it thundered adding a bit of drama to the evening.

I saw a picture of Superman the other day, my Superman, my faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive and able to leap tall buildings in a single bound Superman. I was reminded of the living room at 37 Washington Ave. It was there, every afternoon, I watched Superman while my mother made dinner. The house was small; it was one side of a duplex. The kitchen table was against the window. The rest of the kitchen was longer than it was wide. Not far off the back door was a fence, and a big white house used to sit way back on the other side of that fence. The driveway to the house wasn’t paved but was rather two ruts worn in the grass by use. Pear trees were there, and we used to eat those pears, and all I remember is how hard they always were. The fence had a gate near the house and on the other side of the gate was the parking lot no one ever used except us kids to roller skate, ride bikes and play wild games like crack the whip. I used to climb the gate from Green Street where the house was. It was a short cut to my own house.

I remember lying on the floor in front of the small TV while I watched the flickering black and white screen as Superman saved the day. I knew that Clark and Superman were the same, and I wondered why Lois, Jimmy and Mr. White never figured it out. The glasses weren’t a great disguise.

Lois was a favorite of mine. She wasn’t afraid to investigate all sorts of nefarious schemes and people. Maybe it was because she knew Superman would always come or maybe it was because she was gutsy and getting the scoop was more important than anything else. I wanted to be Lois, curious and brave, but I never wanted to wear one of those hats, and the first thing I’d have done was ditch the suit.

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