August 28, 1997
Dear Everyone:
It was such a
Wood sort of thing to do.
In any other family, it would sound like a bad sitcom; but in our
family, it sounds more like situation normal.
Mother’s birthday was coming up (July
4). What to get Mother
for her birthday this year?
Last year the portrait of
Marian Anderson
in front of the
Lincoln Memorial was inspired.
Kudos to “Marshall” and “Jeannie” for finding it and to “Jeannie”
and me for making a special trip into San Francisco to get it.
But you can’t always expect to score that high every year.
So, what to get Mother for her birthday.
Something she wants or needs and doesn’t already have after
70-something years. This
year Mother made it easy for us:
She wanted a new electric
griddle.
You know, something to make pancakes on.
Heaven knows the current one is 30 years old if it’s a day
(that’s 120 in griddle-years).
OK, we now had a target.
“Jeannie” started scouting prices.
Bottom line: Griddles
don’t come cheap. However,
in the Wood Family, this does not necessarily present a problem.
You just need to get enough people to buy into it.
So we started selling shares in Mother’s gift.
Next, we went to the department store.
As luck would have it (God knows it wasn’t planned this way), an
excellent griddle was on sale at half-price, plus I had a coupon for an
additional 10% off. Bottom
line: The griddle cost a lot
less than we had anticipated.
A less honest person than myself might keep this information
confidential and rake in a tidy profit.
Instead, I sent a note to “Marshall” informing him that he had
overpaid and a note to “Richard” to send his share to “Marshall” instead
of to me.
The next thing I know, “Marshall” wants to know
since when was he put in
charge of my accounts
receivable?
Now, a griddle, even if it’s not electric, is not
the lightest thing in the world.
And it comes in a nice, big box.
How best to get it to Mother?
This question was answered some years ago.
Since we always get together in
Ashland in the summer, frequently within weeks of Mother’s birthday,
we just bring it up in the car with us.
Then Mother can take it back to
Canby when she
goes home. Until then, I
kept it in the Christmas Closet which is where presents-in-waiting do
their waiting.
However, as I stated in last week’s Letter, Mother
was unable to join us in Ashland this year.
Not a problem. We
would just take it out of the trunk of my car and put it in Mother’s car
which “Frankie” drove down from Canby.
On our last morning in Ashland, we had breakfast at
Brothers, just like we always do.
Then “Frankie” wanted to get an early start, while I wanted to
acquire one last T-shirt so we parted company at the restaurant.
We ran into “Frankie” again briefly as she was leaving the hotel
room for the last time. When
we went to pack the car to drive home, there was Mother’s present, still
sitting in the trunk.
“Frankie” remembered it around
Medford, but
by that time it was too late.
So we brought it back to
Concord
and put it back in the Christmas Closet.
It took me another week-and-a-half to remember to wrap it for
shipping and take it to the Post Office.
When I got there, I realized I had forgotten to address it.
So I wrote the address from memory, hoping that I didn’t get
Mother’s Zip Code (97013) confused with “Marshall”’s (93710).
Like I said:
It was such a Wood
sort of thing to do. Happy
Birthday, Mom! Hope you like
(get) your griddle.
Movies...
Hadn’t been to the movies at all this month until
last Saturday. When I saw
the television ads for
Mimic,
I dismissed it as yet another slasher-type summer “thriller”, similar to
last year’s
Relic.
However, Mimic is
anything but typical. In
fact it’s very good.
It has a slow beginning in which we learn that
genetically-altered
cockroaches have been mutating in the tunnels under
New York City.
Mutating how? They’re
getting smarter, getting bigger, getting stronger.
Strong enough to lift
Mira Sorvino off
a subway platform.
(Actually, strong enough to lift
Paul Sorvino if
needed.)
Things pick up as the scientists realize that these
Super Roaches have begun to mimic the appearance of humans (hence the
title). From a distance,
they look like unfriendly strangers.
Up close, they’re even more unfriendly.
(At this point, you can’t help thinking of
Kafka’s
Metamorphosis,
in which a man wakes up one morning to discover he’s been changed into a
cockroach.)
Mimic has
all the aspects of a good scary movie.
How scary? “Jeannie”
kept pulling her feet up into her lap and whispering, “Tell me when it’s
safe to look.” Most of the
time you can’t see the monster, you just know that he’s somewhere
nearby. You seldom actually
see bodies being rendered, something is still left to the imagination.
There are red herrings scattered around to keep you guessing
which is the real monster and which is just a shadow.
The ending is a tad preposterous, but what do you
expect in a movie about giant roaches?
Enjoy it anyway.
No Letter next week.
I’m going to a conference in “Cincinatti”.
A city that I’m sure would never allow giant roaches.
Love, as always,
Pete
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