A busman's holiday and the Battle of Philly

What is a busman's holiday?

For this busperson it was a very relaxing weekend. And the most relaxing hours were spent at my computer doing pretty much the same thing I do forty hours a week for peanuts and benefits; sorting, describing, categorizing a body of creative work so the individual pieces can be accessed in the future. Why my digital nature photos might be accessed is not the concern at this moment, but perhaps the subject collections will lead to new creative endeavors.

So: noun: busman's holiday

1. a vacation or form of recreation that involves doing the same thing that one does at work.
2. 
   

I always associate the idiom busman's holiday with "The Honeymooners," going for a weekend ride with driver Ralph Cramden, wife Alice, and the Nortons, Ed and Trixie. In the early Sixties Dad would set the black and white tv on the kitchen high stool for viewing during Saturday night supper. We didn't become a two-car family until about 1965, so Dad rode the bus to work.

Twenty-plus years earlier, Dad had a different bus experience as a sleep-deprived armed guard on the Philadelphia transit system during the "Battle of Philly."  This may have been his introduction to civil rights issues as a young white man from a rural mid-America community.

© 2013-2018 Nancy L. Ruder

Great American taffy pull

This country has been heated to hard crack, pulled and stretched, pulled and stretched, and we are getting burnt and brittle. It's time to dig through the recipe box with the index cards and cursive handwriting for a new frame of mind.

Waiting at Walmart for the pharmacy to reopen from its lunch break, I pushed the cart through the cereal aisle. Thanksgiving is the traditional time to make our family's Chex Mix, known as "Kris Kringle Krunch." As usual, I got a big box of Corn Chex, when what I really need is the elusive Wheat Chex. It's okay. When it comes to Chex Mix we can all be a bit flexible.

Walmart on the Sunday before Thanksgiving is a great unifier. Where else can you find a man in a tailored suit holding a box of Reynolds Wrap under his arm right next to a full-bearded tattooed man in a full-length floral skirt peering together at the Ocean Spray cranberry sauce options.

Americans are divided into Pyrex bowls of polarized extreme disconnect. But this is not the first, nor the last time our nation will be challenged to find its moral center, its line in the sand of dignity, respect, and humanity. So let's chat about taffy.

In the late Sixties my mom, Fritzi, tried to reach a detente with her parents, Fred and Effa Dale by calling up the great memories of pulling taffy together in a farmhouse with kerosene lanterns and no indoor plumbing. We kids were just the hapless re-enactors, buttering our hands to pull and stretch the very hot taffy. We had already been tasked with preparing the squares of wax paper for wrapping the taffy. Grandmother Effa Dale was perched on the kitchen high stool to direct the fun, and her hearing aide was squawking.

We're gonna wrap the taffy in wax paper.      vs.     What's wax paper?

This potato looks just like Richard Nixon.    vs.    Who's Richard Nixon?

Each year American families gather to share Thanksgiving with a spirit of detente, an easing of hostility and strained relations. According to Wikipedia, the term is "most often used in reference to a period of general easing of the geo-political tensions between the Soviet Union and the United States; it was the distinct lessening of the Cold War. It began in 1969, as a core element of the foreign policy of U.S. president Richard Nixon, in an effort to avoid the collision of nuclear risks. The Nixon administration promoted greater dialogue with the Soviet government, including regular summit meetings and negotiations over arms control and other bilateral agreements."

These days just thinking about taffy threatens my dental work! No peanut brittle for me either. Must locate Wheat Chex, Cheerios, and pretzel sticks. (When I reached the self-check the box of Cheerios popped open like a bad 3 a.m. tweet.)

All we are saying is give peace a Chex.

© 2013-2018 Nancy L. Ruder