“Pee-Wee’s Playhouse”

When my kids were small, they were absolutely nutso over the show.

I mean, I remember many Saturday mornings starting out with, “Get up, Get up, Get up, Pee-wee is on!”

Okay, okay, I was also nutso over the show.

***

One of our favorite recurring gags was, “I know you are, but what am I?“, and it would often go something like this:

Pee-wee: I wouldn’t sell my bike for all the money in the world. Not for a hundred million, billion, trillion dollars!
Francis: Then you’re crazy!
Pee-Wee: I know you are, but what am I?
Francis: You’re a nerd!
Pee-wee: I know you are, but what am I?
Francis: You’re an idiot!
Pee-wee: I know you are, but what am I?
Pee-Wee, Francis: I know you are, but what am I? I know you are, but what am I? I know you are, but what am I? I know you are, but what am I? I know you are, but what am I? (Pee-Wee): Infinity!
Francis: No, I’m not.
Francis, Pee-Wee: You are! No way! Knock it off! Cut it out!
Francis: Shut up, Pee-Wee!
Pee-wee: Why don’t you make me.
Francis: You make me!
Pee-Wee: Because. I don’t make monkeys, I just train ‘em.
Francis: Pee-Wee listen to reason.
[Pee-Wee cuffs his hand around his ear in a listening motion]
Francis: Pee-Wee!
Pee-wee: Sh! I’m listening to reason.
Francis: Pee-Wee!
Pee-Wee: That’s my name, don’t wear it out.

It was CLASSIC, seven-year-kid-old humor, maybe eight; and GAWD, I loved watching it with my sons!

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The Saturday morning photo:

1. If you think there was an ear-pulling on the show, you win the PRIZE!

2. If you think the subsequent shot, had ‘two-kid, simultaneous, ear-pulling pay-back’, you win TWO PRIZES!

AFTER – ‘A photo of my first grandchild’

Gabriella – a.k.a. Gabby

***

The aerobics?

Nobody knows, and she ain’t talkin.

BEFORE – ‘A photo of my first grandchild’

In October (08), her Mom and Dad (my youngest son) will softly say to her, “Your name is Gabriella”.

I expect Gabby will smile sweetly when she learns how much she is loved, from both near and far.

Khun Grandpa

My Cousin Forrest

His comment on the photo:

“I never got my royalties. They offered my ‘lots of green’, then gave me lettuce.

So, I started showing up in Yorma Kakumans dreams, and he’s still has not recovered.  If he would just stop calling me Harvey.”

***
Forrest lives in Panama, but he’s planning on doing a ‘check-it-out-tour’ of Thailand, with the idea of possibly relocating to the “Land of Smiles”, someday.

I’m not sure how the Thai government, nor the Thai people, will cope with BOTH of us here livin’ here; but I think it’ll be cool.

My Uncle Chuck taking a nap

Family Reunion Picnic
Pt. Defiance Park
Tacoma, WA
1958

** I’m pretty sure my Dad was behind the goofy ‘flower trick’/photo **

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My Uncle Chuck was a great guy, as was my Dad; and I think of them often.

’77 – Pride & Inspiration – ‘My Sons’

The big boy has a PhD in Mathematics, and his baby brother has a PhD in Medicinal Chemistry.

They inspire me because they never stop trying to learn, and I’m proud of them because they have become such ‘good-hearted’ men.

****

Yeah you’re right, a smart Mom.

’62 – son of a shoemaker, becomes a shoemaker

My Dad was my HERO.

Because I wanted to be like him, I also became a construction engineer.

I know my Dad was proud of his ‘shoemaker son’, but he unfortunately died a few months after I got into the biz.

Not only did he inspire me to do the job I love, but he instilled the LOVE of travel, and for both, I will be forever grateful.

I honestly don’t know if there is an ‘after-life’, but I know if he and I can ‘hook-up’, we’ll first talk of family, and then do a whole lotta ‘shop-talk’, and then we’ll talk travel.

***

Note: This photo was from  a lead story in the leading trade magazine for the engineering/construction market, ‘Engineering News Record’.

Our ’55 Christmas Card, was taken at …

‘touristy’ Volendam.

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After Rome it was on to the Hague.

Most of my Dad’s coworkers elected to live in ‘Americanish’ suburban Wassenaar, but my folks wanted to live in a more typical 50′s style Dutch neighborhood, and chose nearby Schevenigen.

Schevenigen is very nice community, and worth a visit. But fifty years ago, it was truly a wonderful place for a young American kid to live because there were so many cool places to ride our bikes including a very active ‘working’ fishing port just two blocks away, and the dunes and North Sea another block beyond.

The opposite direction was a little shopping street, where my Mom would go in one store for milk & eggs, and another for fruit & vegetables, and the best for last, the bakery. The Dutch to this day, make wonderful pastries.

Is it worth a trip to The Netherlands for the pastries?

Well, if you throw in some chocolates, absolutely!!

***
After returning to the States, a copy of this photo was on our wall, and my buddies would often ask if I REALLY wore these clothes to school?

C’mon now, how would you answer that?

 

 

’54 – the back of this photo …

has in My Dad’s writing, “Rome – New Years’ Eve – ’54″

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I know how my Mom could cook, so this had to be ‘only one of many’ tables laid out in preparation for the party.

Prior to Rome, if any us had broken a glass, plate, or whatever, it wouldn’t have been a good thing, right?

Well when this happened during 1953, it was met with a ‘no problem’, and then she would quietly say, “Great, we’ve got some more!!”

I was SO CONFUSED!!

Well it turns out, my Mom had heard of an Italian tradition, possibly no longer followed, where the broken glass would be saved during the year, and be discarded at the sound of the New Year church bells. This of course would signify out with the old, in with the new, with hopes for even a better New Year.

And when I’m talking about discarding, I’m not talking about discarding into a dumpster, but ‘out the window’/ ‘off the balcony’!!

By this time, I was already (still am for that matter) in love with the Italians, but to see glass being thrown out of four and five story windows to the streets below. WOW!!!

Note: a few hours later, the streets were all clean, and you would never have known it had happened. That is, if you hadn’t seen it, or for that matter, heard it.

’52 – It was back to the Pacific Northwest

After several years in Brazil, we returned to Tacoma, and of course would use this opportunity to visit with my Grandparents.

By this time I was truly bilingual, and would switch between English and Portuguese with ease, often in mid-sentence. I would speak to my family in English, but for some goofy-four-year-old-kid reasoning, I would speak to my Grandma ONLY in Portuguese, and it drove her KRAZY!!

She would scold my folks, “Oh you took little Jonnie away, and now look!”

Apparently I would laugh with delight when this happened, and my dumb trick ended as soon as they figured out what I was doing and stopped reacting/over-reacting.

Over the next few years before I lost my second language, I would make my Grandma laugh by answering her in Portuguese. Much to the chagrin of my older brothers, this would occasionally result in an extra cookie or two.

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I was extraordinarily blessed to have had such a wonderful Grandma!