As I mentioned earlier, my 40th High School Reunion is this weekend, and I’m very, very excited about it.

I don’t know why I’m so pumped, I usually don’t look forward to things like this, but this time, I am.

I suppose it’s because (A.) It’s been 40 years, and( B.) I look so darn good!  You know, the gym, the diet, the tan!

Can’t wait!

But in preparing and thinking and planning, I’ve thought of a few people along the way.

There are some that won’t be there.

Some old friends are gone, taken too early, and many of our teachers are gone as well.

Several had a tremendous impact on me.  One doesn’t realize until later in life that the teachers you had in school do make a difference.

I may do more of this, but today  – It’s Mrs. Carson.

Like I said, it was later in life when I realized that this tiny Texan had a serious impact on my life, and the way I looked at life as well.

She seemed to be a hundred years old when were in school, but not so.  She was only in her late 50s.  Just like we are guys and gals, and she seemed to have been teaching since Shakespeare wrote the first sonnet, but again, not so.

Some things I remember: 

She loved Shakespeare and she loved Richard Burton.  She took her Senior English classes to see Anne of A Thousand Days as a field trip…because she loved the Tudors, English Lit, English History, and she looooooooooved Richard Burton.

She taught me that reading wasn’t just a past-time, but could be a vocation, a vacation, an escape, and a reality.  She taught me to read for fun.

She told me who Alexander Pope, Tennyson, and Oscar Wilde were and introduced me to wit, humor, and good taste in literature.

She pushed me to write, told me I could, and let me know in no uncertain terms when I was off base.

About 15 or 20 years after I graduated from high school, I was in a meeting with several co-workers.  It was “facilitated’ (80s word) by some seriously expensive speakers and trainers.  One of them quoted Oscar Wilde.  The quote, which I no longer remember, was not one of Oscar’s best, and he had some great ones.  During the course of the meeting, the trainer said, “I don’t know who Oscar Wilde is, but I think this quote says it all.” 

I was speechless!

After discussing the quote for a few minutes, I realized that out of 30 or 40 people in the room, I was the only one who knew squat about Oscar. 

And that was because of Mildred Carson. 

How all those college-educated-high-dollar sales people missed out is beyond me.  But Oscar, Will Shakespeare, and Lytton Stratchey were not beyond Mrs. Carson.  She made sure we knew who they were.

I found her address, sat down, and wrote her a letter thanking her for what she had taught me.  It started a correspondence that lasted until her son called me to tell me she had died;  at the age of 88.  He told me she had given him, and his sister each a list of people to call when her time came.   I was honored to be on it.   Her daughter read a “passage” (her words) from one of my letters at Mrs. Carson’s memorial service.  Ever the friend of mankind, she donated her body to science.

We wrote each other about once a month.  I always expected my letters to come back with red marks all over them, and labored over each word, sentence, phrase, and punctuation mark. 

But they never did. 

We shared books, sent birthday gifts, recipes, and rememberances.

One of my most prized possessions is a Roseville Pine Cone pottery nut dish she sent me when she knew she was dying.  It has a special place in the curio, and a special place in my heart.

So, thanks Mrs. Carson, for what you taught me, and for the fact that you cared if we learned, and cared what we learned.  You were a teacher who had a great impact!

Do you ever just stop and listen to what you’ve just said?

I don’t do it often enough.

Seriously, it’s a problem, and affliction, a near disorder.

Things just fly out of my mouth sometimes and seconds later…I want to reel them back in, I wish I had just shut UP.

Seemingly harmless at the time, sometimes, someone, somewhere is taken aback, offended if you will.

But, it’s too late.

That’s why blogging is better…editing, editing, editing!

So, if I’m quiet today, this Monday morning, nothing’s wrong…I’m just weighing my words.

Have a great Monday!

And don’t let the bed-bugs bite!

That saying comes from the 1700s, when mattresses were made of straw and other “natural” fibers and were held in place on cords or ropes stretched across a bedframe and pulled tight.

I learned this at the Stonewall Jackson House in Lexington, VA on a tour years ago.

With box springs, platforms, and water-beds, sleeping tight isn’t a problem.

But bed bugs are.

Especially in Ohio.

And this, just before I leave for my 40th High School Reunion.  Go Spartans!

We never heard of anyone having bed bugs when we were kids, but now, the problem is a pretty big deal.

No one can figure out why Ohio is such a hot bed of Cimex lectularius, but the problem is so bad in Cincinnati that people have taken to sleeping in the streets!

Cincinnati actually created a Bedbug Remediation Commission in 2007.  Many other local and national governments around the world have as well.  But, the city is trying to mobilize strategies to control infestations of the pesky insects, which can hide in almost any crack or crevice (Oh My Cow) and can go a year or more without eating.

All the sudden I’m jealous of them!

The Ohio Department of Agriculture has mounted an unusual and politically incorrect response to the crisis.  The Buckeye State petitioned the EPA for an exemption to allow in-home use of propoxur, a pesticide and neurotoxin banned in the 1990s out of concern for its effects on children.

The little buggers feed on human blood.  Spray me NOW!

Of course the EPA said no, but a pow-wow is planned with the CDC, EPA and DOD.  Seriously, The Department of Defense! 

“We are hopeful that the outcome of this meeting provides a solution,” says Ohio agriculture secretary Robert Boggs. “Quite frankly, something needs to happen, and it needs to happen quickly.”

No kidding, Bob?

And don’t think about dragging out your hidden stash of DDT.  The little critters developed a resistance to it 30 or 40 years ago.  And if propoxur is used, they’ll learn to live with that too.

And we thought the cockroach would out last us!

They don’t transmit disease according to all the experts, (Note to US:  get new experts), but they can be harmful to the mental health of humans. 

Again, no kidding, Bob.

Of course the ever helpful EPA has come UP with some handy-dandy advice.  They recommend reducing clutter, sealing cracks and crevices, vacuuming often, drying infested clothes at high heat and using a special mattress cover.  Travelers should inspect hotel mattresses, box springs and headboards for the pests and things like streaks of their droppings. 

Or, buy a camper!

Dini Miller, an entomologist at Virginia Tech and the state’s urban-pest-management specialist says, “We are looking at what we did a hundred years ago.  We need to develop an individual consciousness, like we had then. You should think twice about leaving your purse on a seat in the movie theater and storing your kids’ college furniture in the basement when they come home. We need to be conscious that anybody from a group-living situation may come back with bedbugs.”  Here’s a thought, new mattress, new sheets, new family!  And hey, what about bathing?

I guess I’ll be sleeping in the car while I’m in Ohio!  Oh, what the heck, I’m itching already!

Having grown UP in the dark ages, when we all ate dinner together at the same time at the same table in a room without a television, I’m sure I’m often considered a dinosaur.

But, alas, I often long for the days of yore when we all sat down to dinner, had a conversation, talked about our day, and Daddy read the Bible after we ate.

Things just aren’t that way any longer.

Simply because times change and the acceptance of bad-ish behavior increases, wrong doesn’t stop being wrong, and proper doesn’t stop being proper.

I’m not saying to use the right fork for the salad, and quite frankly, using one fork for salad and dinner does not bother me at all.

But there are some things that do.

Harking back to the dark ages of my youth, hats came off the heads of men the second they crossed the threshold.  Not so any more.  Men rarely remove their ball caps to eat in public, and it isn’t just at the Waffle House, it’s everywhere.

Here are some tips that will make MY dining experience more pleasant in the event you have the good fortune to dine with me or in the same restaurant.

• Don’t blow on your food, let it cool on it’s own.
• Never, never, never, never, never talk with your mouth full.
• Please don’t point at me with your knife.
• Don’t polish your teeth after dinner with a napkin, it’s to protect your jeans, and wipe that bar-b-que sauce from the corners of your mouth.
• Break your bread, don’t cut it, unless it’s toast…that’s OK according to Miss Manners.  And don’t slather butter on an entire piece of bread, butter each piece as you eat it.
• If you’re dining at someone’s home, don’t salt your food until you’ve tasted it.  A. It’s insulting to the cook, and B. they may like more salt than you do, and you don’t want to over do it.
• Don’t get drunk, it’s just tacky.
• Don’t spit food out into your napkin or onto your plate.  Miss Manners says to “remove it with what ever you used to put it in your mouth”.   If it’s finger food, take it out with your fingers.  And be careful with that fork!

Oh, yes, take your hat off!