Puns

They say brevity is the soul of wit. They also say that the pun is the lowest form of humor. I say: come up with a better pun, and the more subtle the better.

I have two favorites, the first of which can be presented in two different ways...

A) There is a business near the sea shore. The business specializes in ridding your yard of those pesky sea birds. Their method for removal is to throw rocks at the birds until they leave. Their motto: No tern left unstoned.

B) There is a gravel road that meanders through a wooded area and leads to a cottage. People keep trying to turn off the gravel road to take a short-cut through the woods to get to the cottage, but the owner wants them to stay on the road. At the spot where people tend to take the short-cut, the owner has posted a sign: No Left Turn -- Unstoned.

More to come.

A Roman God?

What say ye, Roman Senate?

But who could go to the Circus Maximus without putting an olive wreath in your hair and enjoying the scenery? Not me.

Luxembourg

A week or two ago, I pulled out the old photo albums, which should explain this post and the two previous posts. And as I think about it, probably the next post or two.

I arrived in Germany, courtesy of the US Air Force, in February of 1975. I was assigned to Spangdahlem Air Base, in the Eifel region of Germany. For the first 6 or 8 weeks, I just hung around the base, mainly because I hadn't yet figured out how to travel without a car. But once I learned the drill, I spent very little time on base during my downtime.

My best friend while in the Air Force was a guy named Stanley Hanks. Stan was born in Germany to an American father and German mother. Although he was raised, for the most part, in the Salem, Oregon area, he was well versed in things German. And he was a hoot.

The first time I went to Luxembourg was with Stan. Luxembourg City is about 50 miles from Spangdahlem, but I had no idea how to get there. Stan knew enough to know that there was a bus stop at the main gate of the air base, and from there we would take the bus to Trier. We worked a 6-day-on, 3-day-off schedule, and the last shift of the 6 days ended at 7 a.m. That gave us enough time to run to the barracks, change clothes, and get to the gate to hop on the 8 o'clock bus to Trier.

Once in Trier, we would buy our train tickets to Luxembourg, and then settle into our seats at the restaurant and order breakfast. Breakfast was the same every time: Ochsenschwanz Suppe mit Brot, und ein Bit. That is, ox tail soup with bread, and a Bitburger (the local brew, which I still drink). There's nothing quite like a hot bowl of ox tail soup and a semi-cold bottle of beer to start your travel day.

We found a hotel near the train station in Luxembourg called the Beau Sejour. On the very first trip to Luxembourg, we met a girl who worked there named Nicole (Stan eventually married her). Through Nicole, we learned where to go in the city, and we met a lot of interesting people through her. Every 9 days we would return, and there was always someone new to meet or a new place to go. And our hotel rooms were always ready.

One of the people we met was a very good friend of Nicole, named Paquita. She was a Spanish girl who spoke no English, which was a tough thing for an American guy who spoke no French. The reason I say this is that I knew a little Spanish, but no French, and she knew a lot of French but no English. So we conversed, for what it was, in Spanish. But we managed.

On one of those trips, we visited the grave of General George Patton, who is buried in Luxembourg. Looking back on it now, I realize how recent WWII was to the people who lived there, but in my young mind, it might just as well have happened a hundred years earlier. The time that has passed since this picture was taken is more than the time that had passed between WWII and the day this picture was taken. But at a young age, it's hard to appreciate the immediacy of these things.

Stan is on the left, Paquita in the middle, and me on the right. Nicole took this picture, which was taken in 1975, most likely during the month of May.

I think this was in Germany...

Fasching is the most important day on the German calendar.

It's called Mardi Gras elsewhere, but in Germany, it's Fasching. I'm not quite sure how to translate "Fasching," but I think it means "dress up in a silly outfit and drink to your heart's content."

This picture was taken in Cologne in February 1977. I've been to a few Fasching parades, but Cologne has the best. One of the great things about Germany, whether it's Fasching or not, is that you can pretty much pee wherever you like. A little discretion is advised, but you will not get arrested in Germany for peeing on the sidewalk. These gents were taking a break from the festivities, and since this wall was nearby, that's where they went. Check out the hair on the guy on the left.





This picture was taken a year later, also in Cologne. Just another day at the office for these guys.



As you can see, it's very important to train for Fasching. During the off-season, I went to the Fasching Training Camp in Bonn. This picture was taken in July 1977, so I still had about 7 months of practice for the next Fasching parade. From what I can remember, I aced every stage of the training.

Fussball in Berlin

In late 1977, while stationed at Spangdahlem Air Base in West Germany, I finished second in a local fussball tournament, in which the singles and doubles winners would earn a trip to Berlin for the nationals. As it happened, I came in second at the local tournament, but was given a spot because the singles winner (John Myers of Minnesota) was also the doubles champion. Since they had 3 spots to offer, I got to go.

I made the trip to Berlin in a troop train across East Germany. We were ordered not to speak to anyone outside the train, or even attempt any communication of any kind. We crossed into East Germany at night, and the differences between West and East were immediately apparent. There were far fewer lights in the towns, and as we passed through various depots on the way, there were very few people around. Among those few people were East German and Russian guards. They didn't look like they were having much fun, but as we looked out the window of the train, we could see that some of them acknowledged us with slight nods and little smiles. Of course, we nodded and smiled back, regardless of our orders.

Berlin was the most fascinating place I had ever seen. Here was a vibrant city, a western oasis in the middle of the East German state, surrounded, of course, by the wall. There were checkpoints around the city, through which you pass from one sector to the other. I stopped by Checkpoint Charlie because it seemed like the thing to do, but I spent most of my time in the American sector.

Walking around the city, it was still obvious that a war had been fought there 30 years earlier. There were a lot of very modern buildings, but there were still signs of destruction. And that wall...no matter which direction you walked, you ultimately ran into the wall. And you could only imagine what it was like on the other side.

I ended up in third place at the tournament. John Myers won it, and a German guy finished second. I still have the bronze medal I was awarded that day, which happened to be my birthday.

The image below is of my travel document. I needed this to travel on the train and enter East Germany. What caught my eye then, and still puzzles me, is that the document is in three languages, none of which is German.

The Game

Then there was the game....and in retrospect, I have to believe the best part of it was the National Anthem....

The Big Easy

Walking down Bourbon Street on Monday afternoon, one could not help but feel that the Tigers were going to have an edge in the game. There were LSU fans everywhere, and they were rabid...



..and colorful...this young man was spotted at Arnaud's...



It's Bourbon Street, and there is no lack of characters, whether or not there is a game. This guy must have had his picture taken a dozen times in the 10 minutes I stood on the street at this spot.



It's going to be a long winter in Buckeye Nation.