Mystery That Is Man: The $1500 Paradox

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For my beloved brother Mark, who's been blessed with some pretty serious adversity of late. A battle with a foe named cancer being among his challenges.

I hope my "looks back" bring him a smile.

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Men are odd.

I can prove it too.
Just one case in point is that Larry, my husband of 51 years, passed away without my permission several months ago.
I think we should have discussed this first.  But he often didn't get permision before doing things.

So, we disagreed about that and other issues, including who was odd and who was not.
He thought men were NOT odd. He said women were the odd ones.
He was wrong.

Here's another for instance, if I may.

When Larry and I first met he was a member of a "Car Club."
This was a bunch of school friends who all drove heaps and spent weekends under them trying to make them go faster than the other guys' heaps.
Not to go any place in particular, just to get there faster.

I mistakenly thought this meant that he was interested in cars in general.
It took many years before the "$1500 Paradox" became clear to me.
Let me explain.

In an effort to be a good companion I tried to take an interest in this car thing.
It was hard.
So I figured that I could at least keep an eye out for spectacular cars that we saw on the road so that he could see and appreciate them and me.

So for years and years, I excitedly pointed out every Porsche and Corvette we saw on the road. I was showing an interest and thought he would enjoy seeing them. I was a good wife.
He always looked and said, "Nice ride," or something like that.

It wasn't until we moved to the mountains that I began to notice the $1500 Paradox.

This is expressed by a curious light in a man's eye and an almost perceptable rise in his blood pressure. You can feel it in the air.

It occurs when a male sees some pile of broken mechanical parts with tires. The sighting must be in another man's garage or side yard.
This pile can be a former car, motorcycle or even a tractor.
It must not be running or at least be on its last legs.
It's best if there is rust.

The man will pass by this pile and the light-in-the-eye will flash on. The atmospheric pressure rises in the air around you.

Then he will exclaim, "Hon, will you look!! It's a 1948 Alice Chalmers!!"
I'll bet that guy had to give $1500 for it! That #@%."
(For years I thought Alice Chalmers was an old girlfriend. It's not. It's a tractor.)

For some reason a Paradox sighting always involved the owner getting cussed. And the price is always $1500.

On the way home from "Alice" I ran a test. I pointed out a brand new, shiny, rust-free, Corvette.
He looked and said, "Nice ride."

Now I must include a caution.
This "Paradox" may be a widespread male occurrence.

When we lived in the mountains, I had a colleague who was a fine man, a wonderful teacher, friend to all, and possibly at the time, the high school girl's softball coach. I can't remember.
He owned an older red pick-up truck.
His name was Tim Slade and Tim is a man.

Tim's truck sat next to the ballfield during games and practices and had a smashed front windshield where it was assaulted by a foul ball.
I think this made it more attractive.

Well, Larry somehow talked Tim into selling that truck to him.  He had to pay more than the paradoxical $1500 because it was actually running.
But not much more.

Anyway, Larry reluctantly had the windshield replaced because he was afraid of getting a ticket.
He taught the girls that putting a hairbrush in the carbuerator thingy would get it started, should there be trouble. There was always trouble.
Beth eventually taught her friends at school the hairbrush trick should they require knowlege of it.
She said you could remove the hairbrush once it got started.

Then Larry and the girls drove that old, red truck for many happy miles until it died in our front yard next to the garage.
Where it remained for some time.

Now the truckbed was always handy.
So it was used to hold piles of pine needles and yard refuse waiting for transport to the compactor.

Then a male neighbor spotted it when he came over in response to another old car we were trying to sell. A GEO Tracker, I believe.
The man said he really didn't want the Tracker but was interested in the old red truck filled with pine needles.
Larry said the truck wasn't for sale.
Neighbor said that he'd only buy the Tracker if Larry would sell him the truck.

I thought,  "Be still my heart!!! Two piles of junk gone at once!!!" But I didn't say anything.

The man waved cash.
It was heartbreaking but too much for Larry. He took it.

Fast forward 20 years or so.

Just a few months ago, the super-talented, super-hero duo, Beth and Kelley, went up to the mountains to speak at a Relief Society function at the request of dear old friends.
On their way home they decided to drive by the old homestead.

As they drove into the subdivision Beth said, "Hey, isn't that Dad's old truck with a "For Sale" sign on it?
It was.

Overcome with a wave of sentiment Beth thought about buying it herself.
She then came to her senses and realized it would be way more expense and trouble than it would be worth. She wiped her tears.
When they got home they casually reported the truck sighting to Kim and her family.

The next day, Malachi, Larry's grandson, went up the mountain.
He took his dad, Scott, with him.
You know the rest.

So, lately, if you're looking for Malachi, check first under an old red truck parked discreetly in his parent's gated side yard.
Now and then his dad may be under there too.

That truck has now become a very, very, expensive vehicle.
Probably comparable to a Corvette.

Even so, the Homeowner's Association won't allow Malachi to stick his feet out from under it where they can be seen publicly.




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"So God created man in his own image, in the image of God created He him; male and female created He them."     Genesis  1:27

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"And the Lord God said, "It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him an help meet for him."     Genesis  2:18

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"And I, God, saw everything that I had made, and behold, all things which I had made were very good."    Book of Moses 2:37

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"Okay.......man is not odd.  Man is good."    Sister Wagher

Old People Can't Eat Tupperware Anymore

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For my brother Mark.
He once told me as I teased him about getting older, "Yea, that's true Kath.... But remember... I'll always be younger than you."

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I've been thinking about aging lately.
Pondering even, which is deeper and more serious.

It turns out that much of growing old is surprising.
And, now and again, I'm even startled to discover "old" strangely fascinating.

I'll look at some new physical development and say to myself;

"Goodness, THAT never happened before."

"Why, all of a sudden, is my miraculous, heavenly inspired body leaving lines and marks all over it?"

"That hurts! It never hurt a few years ago."

"Why is my skin flaking off? I put my good lotion."

"What's that? Those body parts were never that low!"

"Again? I just went!"

And most especially, "What's going on with my digestion?"

I asked that question just this morning as a matter of fact.

You see, I've always been a fan of spicy foods.
This comes from being born and raised in the Sonorran desert where Mexican food is served directly after weaning.
As, of course. it should be.

I feel sorry for people who weren't born here and have no appreciation in their very blood for Mexican food. It truly is a gift from God.

Also, my father was born in Bangkok so I remember the amazing hot curries and coconut soups of Thailand.
I recall my dear Aunt Miriam, my dad's sister, who was new to America, coming to cook in our kitchen one day. She was grating fresh coconut into a cheesecloth so she could  squeeze the milk out into some heavenly sauce.
I watched in awe and I've still never seen anything like the love and care that went into that meal.

But some people haven't been  blessed with such a rich culinary heritage.
One is my dear son-in-law who was born in the Pacific Northwest, Seattle area.
This poor man grew up with nothing but smoked salmon in his veins.
I've always felt sorry for him.

Now, don't get me wrong, Larry and I had an absolutly wonderful Alder smoked salmon experience in Seattle one lovely summer night.

We were on the pier, late. We'd spent the day sightseeing and ferry boat riding. The sun still wasn't completely gone from the sky. This would make it around 8 in the evening in Arizona but in the Northwest it was after 11!

It was well past our dinnertime and we were hungry. Larry went up to a little salmon stand where a lovely glowing barbeque fire was almost spent. He ordered fish  dinners for the two of us.
As the nice man was filling our plates he said, "Hey, I'm closing up. Would you like the rest of this halibut, swordfish and salmon? I'll just give it to you."
Would we like it? Was he kidding?

Anyway, it was one of those "meals of a lifetime."  You know the ones.
They come along now and again because they're so special, in one way or another. The place and the people are as important as the food. But you never forget.

This one was on the pier, beautiful summer night, sun leaving only streaks of color in the sky, best friend stealing your tartar sauce. Wonderful smoked fish.
I'll never forget.

Nevertheless, morning always comes, even in Seattle.
And then, there you are, without a decent enchilada or refried bean to be found.

This tangent that I'm off on today was brought on by the fact that I'm unwell this morning.
Very, decidedly, unwell.
This unwellness was brought on because I ate Tupperware last night.

Let me explain.

Once, on a formerly popular television show, I heard a doctor trying to illustrate this idea to an aging patient.
She advised the man that when he was 25 years old his digestive system could handle almost anything he threw into it. He could eat the Tupperware that he'd packed his lunch in and still function.
But old people who eat Tupperware will have consequences, she said accusingly.

I can report that this is true. Here's my report.

My lovely daughter Beth is a fine, inspired cook.
She "creates" as she chops. After this chopping stops you can be sure that soon some delicious smell will be wafting through the house.
She will then tell everyone, "No, it isn't ready yet. I'm marinating."
It's actually torture. She knows this. (Beth has latent "Mother" issues.)

Now and again she puts things on the charcoal grill, and lets the torture spread to all the neighbors. Her father taught her this.
Delicious grilling smells always come from the whole block the day AFTER Beth cooks outside.

Well, yesterday she made a large vat of her most delectable Mexican shrimp cocktail.
It was chock full of chopped tomatoes, cucumbers, onions, garlic, cilantro, avocado, jalepeno peppers,  lime juice, and icy cold cooked shrimp.
This she engulfs in a delicious, spicy, gazpacho-like sauce with some sort of addictive additive, which she alone knows about.

This cocktail also happens to be very good for you!
No guilt. No fat. Except for avocados, (which is good fat!)
Tons of raw vegetables, fresh herbs, peppers and citrus juice, and non-fried shrimp.
Larry was among the many fans of Beth's shrimp cocktail.

Well, I was super excited for this culinary treat.
The whole house floated along  in a cloud of fresh lime, garlic, cilantro and  pepper smells while "marinating" worked its magic.

I ate Beth's cocktail.
Lots of it.
It was stupendous!

Except for the bottom of the bowl juices.
I didn't eat them.

You see, for some reason this bottom juice always seems to become very spicy as you go along.
I've noticed this happens with Thai coconut soup and curry too.
People are then forced to get another bowl because the top juice won't be so hot.

Is there a chemical reason for this?

Anyway, I woke up this morning with a clear message from my aging body.

It said,   "You ate Tupperware, didn't you?    You know that old people will have consequences and yet you still ate the Tupperware.  When are you ever going to learn that it's foolish to get into a war with old?"

Remember. And be well.

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"And I the Lord God, said unto the woman: What is this thing which thou hast done? And the woman said: The serpent beguiled me and I did eat."
Genesis 3:13

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"Watch and pray that ye enter not into temptation; the spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak."  Matthew 26:41

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"To every thing there is a season, a time for every purpose under the heavens."
Ecclesiastes 3:1

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"Old people can't eat tupperware anymore."
Sister Wagher