Rare, Collectible, & Otherwise

Tag: oklahoma (Page 86 of 115)

Thistles and shamrocks. What?

The lettering on the front door says McHuston Booksellers & Irish Bistro. People ask me about the Irish connection.

People: What’s the Irish connection?

Me: It’s like the French Connection starring Gene Hackman without the Academy Awards, the car chases, the drug running, or the European mafia. Other than that…

Nah. It’s nothing like the French connection, come to think of it.

This afternoon, I whipped the picture from the shelf to describe the Irish connection, then promptly dropped it and shattered the glass. Ooops. The frame was too large, anyway. As a result of my salvaging the picture, I have a chance to scan it in to the blog today.

Family folklore suggests the photo was taken on their wedding day. Michael and Mamie. He spelled his name Michel and her given name was Mary, but she was known as Mamie. He came to the US from the Kingdom of Bavaria and her family rode the boat over, leaving their home in County Tipperary, Ireland.

They had a great marriage, since she spoke no German and he couldn’t crack that Irish brogue. The language of Love, and all that, I suppose.

After their marriage, they joined the many Irish immigrants who were working the new Katy rail line at its Parsons, Kansas jumping off point. From there, tracks were put down across Indian Territory to Texas, opening up a whole new avenue for commerce.

My father would speak occasionally about Mamie and the singing of the Irish songs with his buddies. He had a wonderful tenor voice. Shame on me for not learning the tunes from him then, but I have made up for that shortcoming over the years, Alive alive-oh! Alive alive-oh! Crying Cockles and Mussels, alive alive-oh!

You didn’t ask, but the McHuston part of the Irish connection comes from my dear Mother’s side of the family. Her people arrived on a boat years before the American Revolution, trotted over to the county courthouse, and immediately declared that they had lately arrived from Ireland.

Her family, at the courthouse: Here we are, then. Would ye kindly jot that down in the book for us? A note of arrival, if you will. The name is Houston, and that would be us.

Clerk, writing in the big book: Irish, you say. Like I would not have guessed that. All-righty, then. Huston it is.

And thereby, and forever after, the family lost the O that might have been included for posterity, so others would not call us Huss-tun. It’s pronounced just like the Astros and the Texans and the fellow Sam: Houston.

The Mac part?

In the old Gaelic language, Mac translates to “son of.” Mac Donald described the son of Donald.

Mac Huston describes the son of Ms Huston, who is my mother – the book-lover who instilled that same attachment in me.

And THAT’s the Irish Connection (if it isn’t all a load of Blarney…).

Check if you strongly agree. Strongly disagree. Other.

If you’re still reading this, I’d be shocked to learn it.

My dad wrote that three-quarters of the way into his college thesis. I’m paraphrasing, but it was something very similar that he told me he typed into the dissertation for his degree. Thinking back on it, I kind of like knowing he did something like that.

It’s funny that I remember him telling me about his academic-rebel ways, but I can’t recall whether the professor read the line, or acknowledged it in any way. I have my doubts.

Probably because I heard the thesis story, I’ve included similar lines in my own projects. Maybe a half-dozen times or so. Most of them were corporate surveys, a couple of which were from the company I worked for at the time.

I remember when I thought I had the market cornered on good ideas, but was never given an opportunity to share them. Bang! Survey from corporate. Here we go!

Halfway through one anonymous reply-required questionnaire from corporate, I included my full name and telephone number, along with the invitation to call any time of day or night. I’d be happy to share some thoughts, I wrote.

No one ever called.

Thinking back on it, I can understand why. Even if I had a single good idea, they’d have to deal with the smart aleck who would write such a thing in the middle of a survey, just to see if anyone was reading the responses.

Just finished one from the US Postal Service. Like they really want to know my opinion. I filled it out just the same, and in doing so noted they actually had as their last question:

Can we contact you about this survey?

There was another couple of tiny little checkboxes after the question for the answer.

[] Yes

[] No

I really wanted to check a box that wasn’t on the form:

[] I dare you to call me and ask my opinion.

They’re asking for it, in every sense of the phrase. And if you’re still reading this, I’d be shocked to learn it.

Writers. A bunch written.

Today’s entry is literary. That is to say, it has to do with writing. Not literary writers, necessarily. Not authors.

Writers.

There are plenty of them out there that have nothing to do with books or publishing or creating a leather-bound legacy that might one day become the Great American Novel.

I’m talking commercials, here.

As in: TV.

Unfortunately (for the writers) the general public is widely unaware of who is behind the good (and the bad). Right now, I’m thinking about the new spot for 7*Up Ten, a reduced calorie soft drink that is being sold despite the failure of the factory chemists to eliminate those last nine pesky calories. Okay. I can try it over my One-Calorie soft drink. I’ll burn those other nine calories off somewhere. Maybe I can do it while yawning.

The commercial has Mom and Dad fawning over their purchase of a box of 7*Up Ten, the Most-Amazing-Thing-They-Have-Ever-Seen. In the background, their little baby is moonwalking, doing hand-stands, and You-Think-You-Can-Dance-Level dancing.

I don’t laugh out loud, which is probably the result of my upbringing. When I saw this spot on TV, I almost did. To keep it in perspective, I almost laughed out loud at the chase scene in the action-adventure movie The Package, starring Jason Statham. He was chasing a car through an unfamiliar area while riding a little bicycle. He managed to smash it through a glass door and time it perfectly to crash into the driver’s seat of his stolen car. Bravo. (Chuckle.)

There are others, like the Allstate ads. These aren’t knee-slappers, exactly. No slapstick humor here. Strictly situational. Maybe you’ve seen the one with the Allstate Mayhem Man appearing as a rambunctious toddler in the back seat, yelling – mommy.

“Mommy!” he shouts. “MommyMommyMommy!”

He pulls a drink from his sippy-cup and yells again.

Mommmmmyeeeee!

There are things thrown – maybe Cheerios. All accompanied by the continued shouts:

Mommmmyeeee!

No doubt, it’s just me. But I can easily envision the energetic child behind that Allstate Mayhem Man. In another ad, he disguises himself as a college flag, and as a poorly-installed TV satellite dish in another. Still, he’s the Mayhem Man. Those writers are hitting more than they are missing. The kid-in-the-backseat-of-the-minivan commercial works for me everytime.

Some are the result of writing-teams. Others are solo-shots. Unfortunately, there isn’t really a front-and-center Award Show Recognition like the Emmys or the Grammys or the Oscars that gives credit to these writers. I’m not sure about the category specifics, but there ought to be some publicity for those behind Seven*Up Ten, the Allstate ads, and the like. Some local groups give out “Addys” to winning commercials, but there is no Oscar-scale presentation.

As many commercials as we are exposed to, you’d think someone would sponsor a show.

And run commercials throughout.

« Older posts Newer posts »