TENNIS. ANYONE?

Adapted from Brazil Times blog of October 14, 2008

(because I still think of myself as not gotten any older!)

It is probably because I don’t know much about my father’s youth that I have trouble seeing him as a tennis player. He told me once about a certain day when he was seventeen -- before the Depression, before The War, when he was still a promising athlete. He spoke of a perfect spring day, of playing tennis, of having won the match. He told me:

“Somehow I have never thought of myself as being any older than I was on that day.”

I had such a day when I was nineteen. It could have been yesterday, maybe it was. I was picking up a suit at the cleaners for a date with a beautiful girl. It was one of those purely perfect days – perfect temperature, perfect humidity, just enough clouds floating overhead. I had a brand-new, straight-off-the-showroom-floor Buick convertible with a mystic blue-green color I never saw again or could describe. [It could do 90 on the highway; but, that is a different story.]

Somehow I have never thought of myself as being any older than I was on that day.

As of the day I post this blog, October 14 2008, I have somehow lived through exactly sixty-five years. There has been now-forgotten pain and unforgettable blessings, incalculable failures, marriage to a woman I would not have lived it without, and five things I seem to have done right. However, like the fiddler on the roof, I don’t remember growing older. All I remember for sure is the “sun rise, sun set” part. Whatever happened to that 18 year old with his perfect day? How and when did he get to be 65 [OK, now 78]?

Tennis, anyone?

TRAFFIC IN BRAZIL?

 TEN DAYS OF TRAFFIC

(edited from 2009 Brazil Times blog to acknowledge passage of time)

Fifteen years ago our children determined we move into “town” to be close to church, stores, and Computer Central. Our home is on North Forest Avenue (that’s Hwy 59 to you interlopers). If ever it could be said the Lord gave the desires of one’s heart, it would be this house.

It does appear that the Almighty either was not aware of, or humorously decided to include in His divine provision, the ten days of traffic which I like to call the Bizarre Bridge Bazaar.

In this our fifteenth go-around here we’ve adjusted to the schedule: Noisy in the AM with cars moving so slow you could sell Lemonade in the middle of Highway 59 North. In the late afternoon don’t put a toe in the street when everyone is speeding home. The extent of my interest in the Bridge Bazaar is watching the cars and trailers, trucks, and motor homes go by. Fortunately we have a back way in and out, so are not trapped by the onslaught of vehicles.

Except for a couple of summertime tours of the various bridges of Parke county and envious, I have never paid much attention to the bridges. No particular opposition I don’t suppose, just that as a matter of principle never do any thing involving a lot of walking. My active participation was again this year limited to being extra diligent in locking all doors and windows.

What has always struck me about it all is what little value the whole shebang seems to be for Brazil or Clay County.

The place up the street where we normally get gas does well, and we’re told the local restaurants benefit some. That seems to be about it. When still new to the area I tried to organize a promotion of local business during October and was told by every merchant contacted it was a waste of time. Brazil, they said, simply cannot profit from the traffic rushing past on the way there and back home. Since then I have seen it for myself; even learned of two area small businesses that closed down for the ten days.

A lot of folks along Forest Avenue set up yard sales and such. [In 2009] our daughter Susan came from St Louis with two car loads of stuff. Daughter, daughter-in-law and wife set out a bunch of junk no one in the family wanted. Daughters and grandchildren “made” about $5 each.

I doubt very much if the City of Brazil collected anything from all of this other than maybe part of the sales tax from the gas station. Even if the city charged for permits and got sales tax from the yard vendors (which I doubt very much they could), it wouldn’t cover costs of police patrols and extra trash pickups (what, you thought all that unsold junk would be put back in my closet?).

Hope you had fun at that bridge bazaar thing. For me it is just ten days of traffic. If our town actually benefited from it all, let me know how.

WINNER!

 

I MAY BE A WINNER!

Our children will remember how daddy would always enter the Publishers Clearing House Sweepstakes even though I knew odds were quite long. According to Wikipedia “as of June 2020, the odds of winning "$5,000 a Week for Life" were 1 in 6.2 billion. To put that in perspective, the world's population is 7.7 billion”. But, it only cost one stamp to enter, so risk-reward factor was good. Actually won something about 40 years back – a scissors set, of which we still have one pair.

Over the years in my many entries only bought a few CDs. Entering at all, of course, was my first mistake; buying something my fatal error. Know a bit about mail order promo, and even with mass production it has to cost from fifty-cents to a dollar to get that entry into my hand. And, they have to send out a million or so to get that cost break. Because of cost factors, if you don’t send them back often enough they’ll drop you from the mailing list. Not sending them back is why I hadn’t gotten my fair share of chances to win last couple of years.

Ever wonder why it’s called Publishers Clearing House when (a) they sell a lot of stuff and (b) all anybody knows about them is they are the Win-A-100-Million-Bucks guys?

Remember magazines – printed on paper, came in mail once a month? There was once a real market for them. One of mine and Matthew’s first jobs was selling subscriptions door-to-door. He, at least, was good at it. PCH began in 1953 as a way to sell magazines using direct mail (junk mail to you and I) to reach more homes cost effectively (Rule #1 – Follow the Money!).

Direct mail works. If it didn’t junk mail would have ceased to show up in mailboxes fifty years ago. Success meant expansion, with TV promotions and sweepstakes coming in 1967. As interest in magazines faded additional items were added. It worked! More people would buy more stuff if you just presented it right (i.e. the con). Because of this success prize money got bigger and bigger. That’s how, as of last year it got to $5,000 a week for life.

At risk of getting into the marketing ‘weeds’ of this, most entrants are older and winnings are necessarily what they appear (us old people’s ‘for life’ ain’t what it used to be). But, these sweepstakes are controlled by federal and state law, and somebody can win. If I happen to get the one and only mailer which includes the winning number, and if I send it in, I may well be a winner. In the marketing genre we call folks who don’t get the golden ticket the ‘mark’.

In my own defense my mother got me hooked on the sweepstakes opium. She entered every one that came in her mail. And, as it was with older folk (not me), she really thought she’d have to buy something to win. Sometimes wished she’d left me all those cassette tapes. Ultimately I entered for the same reason as my mother, hoped to be able to provide for my kids.

Somewhere while making other plans life happened. The kids grew up, made their own lives, and not sure a lot of money would make them better people. If I won now might do what #2 son Nathan once told me he’d do: Set up a grant program to provide money for any graduate of local high schools to help them ‘escape’ Brazil Indiana.

A few years back I quit returning the “you may be a winner” mailings. In time they quit coming. Until now.

In this weeks mail came an “ALERT: Time Sensitive” notice that my “name has been authorized for processing on the Winner Selection list”! I could now go on-line and enter without a stamp! Even has an Activation Code so they will know which mailer is getting best response. The most interesting element about this mailer to me is the cost factor. It’s almost a ‘cold’ solicitation for new customers, and it can’t have cost more than fifteen-cents to print and mail 1-million pieces.

If I enter this time, PCH will want an e-mail address. Because of much reduced cost factors this means I’ll get a LOT more junk mail than ever got in snail-mail. But, hey, what else have I got to do but delete spam? Maybe I should enter? I mean, you know, after all, the cost factor is in my favor; my mother would be so proud; would enjoy kids rolling their eyes and saying ‘daddy’s at it again’. And, who knows, I may be a winner!

If you don’t hear from me for a while, I may be in the Cayman Islands.