Virginia As Flip Wilson, in the Church of Here and Now, phrased it “The devil made me do it.” “Laugh and the world laughs with you. Weep, and you pee alone.”
Virginia As Flip Wilson, in the Church of Here and Now, phrased it “The devil made me do it.” “Laugh and the world laughs with you. Weep, and you pee alone.”
How did we get devils in here? Do you know Sam Gross from The New Yorker or elsewhere? Aptly named and a prize of gross or sometimes charming wit. One of my favorites of the latter persuasion is a dog in a sedan chair with his long ears blowing in the wind. Trying to think how to delicately write to you about the one that Bob Mancoff at a Chicago Humanities presentation in the days of the ISIS atrocities told the audience about saying he couldn’t publish it. Of course I asked Sam for a copy. It’s St. Peter with those who blew themselves up for houris, so maybe you can guess from there. (Necessary to put the bits back together before you get the houris.)
Virginia Humor got me through the tough days in the Congo. One day my boss and I were looking at a map of Congo and one of us mentioned A Congolese army sweep through an area. Then we both burst out in laughter. Shortly before a Congolese battalion drove into a defensive battle position, turned around their trucks, and left the engines running. After the first shot, they skedaddled, and, perhaps, set a Guinness Book of World Records retreating over 200 miles in a single day.
I learned about ‘Make my day’ long before the movies. One morning at 3 a.m. as I was going to be left in a Congo-infested province, at the airport a Marine lt. Col. refused to provide me K rations. I had to tell him who his boss was (my ambassador, with whom I was then residing). I told him to call the ambassador, he demurred, and I got my K rations. Bizarre world. Later that day an army colonel lent me his M-16 as I went into Kindu, where mercenaries were dislodging rebel soldiers. I captured several, had a mercenary priest accompany me to a field hospital with the prisoners, and I threw away the M 16, since it didn’t seem smart to put it in the back of the Jeep with the prisoners. Driving with a .45 in my right hand was a bit awkward.
Later the colonel, safely ensconced in Bukavu, while I was risking my life in Kindu, said I was in deep shit for losing an M-16. I said that the rifle was checked out in his name and I would try to visit him in Leavenworth. I chuckled when I said this.
When I returned to the embassy with two sacks of captured rebel military hdtrs files, the Foreign Service Officers were put off by my clothes and my odor. [I had volunteered to fly out with White House authority to do what those jerks didn’t do—get off their asses and get boots on the ground.] By contrast, the ambassador sent my reports by FLASH to DC.
Incidentally, the artichokes in Bukavu were delicious.
Braggart! But I am laughing before i finish dressing. Beware of Keith with Canes all ye who think old men aren’t dangerous!
I still remember my first artichoke and you inspire me to look for more. If I could bake my 89th birthday cake, I can still prepare artichokes. What did you have for sauce, or do you eat without?
Virginia Back when I was a wee pup hollandaise sauce was my preference. Much later melted butter. There was a sharp difference between large artichokes and the baby ones in eastern Congo and Chile, where they were served as appetizers.
When I was living in New York City, after leaving at 6 and returning home about 7:30 pm I was known to just have a large artichoke for dinner—delicious.
Ditto with hollandaise. Recipe for mock hollandaise in Fanny Farmer edition 10 which I must copy. Rich enough, but not much butter. If an artichoke was your dinner, then my mental picture of you is probably correct: lean and mean! (It rhymes!)
After Colin cancer in 2000 with chemo and radiation, I became porky pig. I saw this in a vacation photo of Georgia and me in St. John. I am ‘rather determined.’ Over the years I took off over 80 pounds and now am a svelte 155 (well below my college weight). I rowed at 173 but, perhaps the influence of the Pyramids during my years in Egypt, my body shape has somewhat changed.
“Continued Exposure to Pyramids can Change Body Shape” (headline in The New York Times). Best to stay out of Egypt after a certain age.
Congratulations on being “svelte.” Not sure that getting back to high school weight will give me back the bones to be svelte again. But Pilates has helped me understand shrinkage. And I can still put both palms on the floor for a bit of stretch.
Glad to know that you survived colon cancer. That sounds more difficult than driving with large pistol in hand.
Virginia As Flip Wilson, in the Church of Here and Now, phrased it “The devil made me do it.” “Laugh and the world laughs with you. Weep, and you pee alone.”
How did we get devils in here? Do you know Sam Gross from The New Yorker or elsewhere? Aptly named and a prize of gross or sometimes charming wit. One of my favorites of the latter persuasion is a dog in a sedan chair with his long ears blowing in the wind. Trying to think how to delicately write to you about the one that Bob Mancoff at a Chicago Humanities presentation in the days of the ISIS atrocities told the audience about saying he couldn’t publish it. Of course I asked Sam for a copy. It’s St. Peter with those who blew themselves up for houris, so maybe you can guess from there. (Necessary to put the bits back together before you get the houris.)
Virginia Humor got me through the tough days in the Congo. One day my boss and I were looking at a map of Congo and one of us mentioned A Congolese army sweep through an area. Then we both burst out in laughter. Shortly before a Congolese battalion drove into a defensive battle position, turned around their trucks, and left the engines running. After the first shot, they skedaddled, and, perhaps, set a Guinness Book of World Records retreating over 200 miles in a single day.
I learned about ‘Make my day’ long before the movies. One morning at 3 a.m. as I was going to be left in a Congo-infested province, at the airport a Marine lt. Col. refused to provide me K rations. I had to tell him who his boss was (my ambassador, with whom I was then residing). I told him to call the ambassador, he demurred, and I got my K rations. Bizarre world. Later that day an army colonel lent me his M-16 as I went into Kindu, where mercenaries were dislodging rebel soldiers. I captured several, had a mercenary priest accompany me to a field hospital with the prisoners, and I threw away the M 16, since it didn’t seem smart to put it in the back of the Jeep with the prisoners. Driving with a .45 in my right hand was a bit awkward.
Later the colonel, safely ensconced in Bukavu, while I was risking my life in Kindu, said I was in deep shit for losing an M-16. I said that the rifle was checked out in his name and I would try to visit him in Leavenworth. I chuckled when I said this.
When I returned to the embassy with two sacks of captured rebel military hdtrs files, the Foreign Service Officers were put off by my clothes and my odor. [I had volunteered to fly out with White House authority to do what those jerks didn’t do—get off their asses and get boots on the ground.] By contrast, the ambassador sent my reports by FLASH to DC.
Incidentally, the artichokes in Bukavu were delicious.
Oh what a lovely war!
Braggart! But I am laughing before i finish dressing. Beware of Keith with Canes all ye who think old men aren’t dangerous!
I still remember my first artichoke and you inspire me to look for more. If I could bake my 89th birthday cake, I can still prepare artichokes. What did you have for sauce, or do you eat without?
Virginia Back when I was a wee pup hollandaise sauce was my preference. Much later melted butter. There was a sharp difference between large artichokes and the baby ones in eastern Congo and Chile, where they were served as appetizers.
When I was living in New York City, after leaving at 6 and returning home about 7:30 pm I was known to just have a large artichoke for dinner—delicious.
Ditto with hollandaise. Recipe for mock hollandaise in Fanny Farmer edition 10 which I must copy. Rich enough, but not much butter. If an artichoke was your dinner, then my mental picture of you is probably correct: lean and mean! (It rhymes!)
After Colin cancer in 2000 with chemo and radiation, I became porky pig. I saw this in a vacation photo of Georgia and me in St. John. I am ‘rather determined.’ Over the years I took off over 80 pounds and now am a svelte 155 (well below my college weight). I rowed at 173 but, perhaps the influence of the Pyramids during my years in Egypt, my body shape has somewhat changed.
“Continued Exposure to Pyramids can Change Body Shape” (headline in The New York Times). Best to stay out of Egypt after a certain age.
Congratulations on being “svelte.” Not sure that getting back to high school weight will give me back the bones to be svelte again. But Pilates has helped me understand shrinkage. And I can still put both palms on the floor for a bit of stretch.
Glad to know that you survived colon cancer. That sounds more difficult than driving with large pistol in hand.
Just mailed the last of 110 GOTV postcards to Ohio. Now to see if I can get more.