by Pat Laster
As I type this on a Wednesday evening in Dairy Hollow’s Spring Garden Suite, I haven’t yet investigated Little Switzerland--as Eureka Springs is often called--for its fall foliage.
However, the trip up Highway 65 afforded many sightings of yellow hickory, red sumac and sweet gum’s still-muted variegated colors. I determined to stop somewhere on the way home and buy a hickory and some sumac to go with the sassafras and crape myrtle already growing on Couchwood.
The wind and the change in temperature brought on another bout of sneezing and nasal drip as I drove through Clinton, Marshall, Dennard, Leslie, St. Joe, Bellefonte, Harrison and Alpena. At Green Forest, traffic was stopped across from the cattle-sale barn for ten or twelve minutes while some road overlay happened.
I arrived at the Writers Colony to find a new director, Mary Jo, with bad news: the toilet in my suite was acting ugly. A plumber had been called and was supposed to be on site that afternoon. If possible.
IF POSSIBLE??? But the stars were aligned as some folks describe it. I drove around the curve to the parking space as Mr. Plumber pulled up to my front door. While the young man worked, I carried in case after case (clothes and writing materials/books) and placed them out of the way.
I held the door while he brought in a “John-in-a-box.” I piddled around in the work space/kitchenette—the mini-fridge had not been turned up—and the microwave was uneven on its platform.
Soon, I heard the man say, “This isn’t gonna work,” or maybe he said “ain’t,” and traipsed back through the suite lugging the “cheap—one-hundred dollar,” er, john. “I’ll have to go back to the shop and get another one.”
“Where’s the shop?” I asked in alarm. “Rogers? Bentonville?”
“No, it’s in town,” and away he flew--as fast as anyone can fly while negotiating a hairpin curve and a steep climb from the valley.
While he was gone, I jury-rigged the crippled microwave with a 3 by 5 note card bent six ways to Sunday. It worked, but I added the situation to my evaluation form. The next writer will have the same problem if it’s not corrected.
Soon, the plumber, bald as an unwigged mannequin, returned with a “more expensive, but in these old houses, the only solution” toilet. Installed quickly. Problem solved.
Given my recent experiences, I asked him about recycling. “All but the porcelain—it’s clay—and the plastic.” About once a month, he loads his trailer, he said, and takes everything else to a salvage yard. The proceeds he splits with his boss. “About $200 a month,” he allowed. “Good pay for the likes of me.”
Now, it is Friday evening. Though there are two more residents here—one from Seattle; one from New York--they ate out, so I dined alone at the big table in the Main House. Vegetable-bean soup, tossed salad, cornbread and chocolate pudding left by the cook who leaves as early as she can—the economy has hit the non-profits hard—but not before placing sticky notes to “turn off the stove,” and “salad in the fridge; have a great weekend.”
I’m sure I’ll have a great weekend: no organ to play, no choir rehearsal to attend, no cats to feed, no pears to peel. I can sit on this front porch not six feet from the street, watch and listen as the bikers roar by this curve, the sound lingering, lingering as they maneuver the hairpin and the incline.
Maybe tomorrow night I’ll hear the clip-clop of the horse-drawn carriage rides.
c 2011 by Pat Laster dba lovepat press
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Friday, October 21, 2011
Just a little more on scrap metal, then to other subjects.
by Pat Laster
I can’t seem to get away from the subject of scrap metal, the term now preferred to ‘scrap iron’. One day recently, the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette ran an article about two scrap metal thieves, ages 48 and 55. Criminy, fellows, get a life!! Oh. They already did.
However, my brother in CA told of a person he knows, a well-careered “suit,” who began collecting scrap on the side. One day, a colleague told him about some scrap in the company’s venue, giving the collector the understanding that he was OK-ing it, so our man took it home and added it to his collection. The rat-colleague then went to his boss, and our man was fired for stealing. Now, collecting is his sole income.
And if that weren’t enough, a recent crossword puzzle contained this clue: “Scrap yard material.” Answer M-E-T-A-L.
Just when I intended to segue into another subject, I see a one-sentence “brief” in Sunday’s paper. Two brothers, 24 and 25, were accused of stealing a western Pennsylvania bridge and selling the fifteen-and-a-half tons of scrap metal for more than $5,000! Geez Louise!
Grandson/ward Billy, 21, came home during Fall Break last week after I sent him gas money. He goes through funds like . . . like . . . like any college kid will if allowed. He insists band students do not have time for jobs; that his survey (as I asked him to do) showed many band students DON’T have jobs. I wonder how many marchers were in his poll.
Kid Billy wanted to see his Papa (his grandfather--my ex) so I told him to call and invite them to meet us somewhere for lunch on Sunday. Ex and long-time lady friend accepted and KB chose Colton’s. As the old newspaper columns about community happenings described events in their area, “a good time was had by all.” KB is back at Henderson with a fresh stash of cash. When I called to see if he’d gotten “home,” he was at Arkadelphia Wal-Mart “picking up some things.” See what I mean?
How about some mind-teasers?
First question: What do Tarwater, Tong, Ye, Push, Fudge, Ertel, Constantino, Seeds and Kyles have in common?
Second question: What do Jia-Li, Jannel, Japan, DeeKotah, Champion, Serif and Hero have in common?
Third question: Who said this? “Death is very likely the best invention of life. All pride, fear of embarrassment or failure, these things just fall away in the face of death.”
Fourth question: What do these words have in common? Twist, Jacinto, Gill, Ladds, Tomahawk, Elberta, Redding, Sage and Swan Lake?
Fifth question: What do these acronyms stand for? UNESCO, GRAIL, STRIVE.
Ready for the answers? First question answered: They are surnames as found in my reading of daily and weekly newspapers that come to Couchwood.
Second question answered: They are all given names from the same family as found in an obituary.
Third question answered: the late Steve Jobs.
Fourth question answered: Places in Arkansas at one time or another.
Fifth question answered: UNESCO = United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization. It “tiptoes through diplomatic minefields to maintain consensus.” Its stated mission is “the promotion of peace and human rights through cultural dialogue.” (AP)
GRAIL = Gravity Recovery and Interior Laboratory.
STRIVE = Special Training in Remedial Instruction and Vocational Education, a proposed charter school.
I wonder if Eureka Springs, Arkansas is as delightful in the fall as it is in the spring.
c 2011 by Pat Laster dba lovepat press
I can’t seem to get away from the subject of scrap metal, the term now preferred to ‘scrap iron’. One day recently, the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette ran an article about two scrap metal thieves, ages 48 and 55. Criminy, fellows, get a life!! Oh. They already did.
However, my brother in CA told of a person he knows, a well-careered “suit,” who began collecting scrap on the side. One day, a colleague told him about some scrap in the company’s venue, giving the collector the understanding that he was OK-ing it, so our man took it home and added it to his collection. The rat-colleague then went to his boss, and our man was fired for stealing. Now, collecting is his sole income.
And if that weren’t enough, a recent crossword puzzle contained this clue: “Scrap yard material.” Answer M-E-T-A-L.
Just when I intended to segue into another subject, I see a one-sentence “brief” in Sunday’s paper. Two brothers, 24 and 25, were accused of stealing a western Pennsylvania bridge and selling the fifteen-and-a-half tons of scrap metal for more than $5,000! Geez Louise!
Grandson/ward Billy, 21, came home during Fall Break last week after I sent him gas money. He goes through funds like . . . like . . . like any college kid will if allowed. He insists band students do not have time for jobs; that his survey (as I asked him to do) showed many band students DON’T have jobs. I wonder how many marchers were in his poll.
Kid Billy wanted to see his Papa (his grandfather--my ex) so I told him to call and invite them to meet us somewhere for lunch on Sunday. Ex and long-time lady friend accepted and KB chose Colton’s. As the old newspaper columns about community happenings described events in their area, “a good time was had by all.” KB is back at Henderson with a fresh stash of cash. When I called to see if he’d gotten “home,” he was at Arkadelphia Wal-Mart “picking up some things.” See what I mean?
How about some mind-teasers?
First question: What do Tarwater, Tong, Ye, Push, Fudge, Ertel, Constantino, Seeds and Kyles have in common?
Second question: What do Jia-Li, Jannel, Japan, DeeKotah, Champion, Serif and Hero have in common?
Third question: Who said this? “Death is very likely the best invention of life. All pride, fear of embarrassment or failure, these things just fall away in the face of death.”
Fourth question: What do these words have in common? Twist, Jacinto, Gill, Ladds, Tomahawk, Elberta, Redding, Sage and Swan Lake?
Fifth question: What do these acronyms stand for? UNESCO, GRAIL, STRIVE.
Ready for the answers? First question answered: They are surnames as found in my reading of daily and weekly newspapers that come to Couchwood.
Second question answered: They are all given names from the same family as found in an obituary.
Third question answered: the late Steve Jobs.
Fourth question answered: Places in Arkansas at one time or another.
Fifth question answered: UNESCO = United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization. It “tiptoes through diplomatic minefields to maintain consensus.” Its stated mission is “the promotion of peace and human rights through cultural dialogue.” (AP)
GRAIL = Gravity Recovery and Interior Laboratory.
STRIVE = Special Training in Remedial Instruction and Vocational Education, a proposed charter school.
I wonder if Eureka Springs, Arkansas is as delightful in the fall as it is in the spring.
c 2011 by Pat Laster dba lovepat press
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Quite a response to last week’s scrap iron post
by Pat Laster
Chrysanthemums are blooming everywhere. In my yard are various sizes and colors: maroon, bronze and pink. By now, all your houseplants should be inside.I have hauled a money tree, corn plant, schefflera, mother-in-law’s tongue, split-leafed philodendron, Chinese lily and a 6-foot Norfolk pine into the computer/sunroom.
Last week’s column on scrap metal mongering brought several responses about others’ experiences.
One Little Rock friend told that he and his wife decided to clear the clutter under their house and deck––‘a life time collection of car parts, bicycles, water tanks, etc.’
“We too, found the ABC Salvage on Stagecoach Road and hauled the scrap there. My intention was to just get rid of it in an environmentally friendly way. When I got there I found that they actually pay you for the scrap. You segregate it into ferrous and non-ferrous metals, they scan your driver's license, weigh the non-ferrous metals, have you drive over a truck-like scale and drive down into the collection ‘yard’.
“You dump the load and drive back over the scale. All this data is apparently electronically sent to the office where you go to collect your cash. As a result of two trips with my Saturn-loads of scrap, we collected about $300 for our troubles. I thought this was quite good since we were primarily interested in ‘just getting rid of the scrap’."
A Mountain Home reader emailed this reply: “Really enjoyed this column - it covers recycling, getting rid (in a good and useful way and helpful too) of stuff you've had around for ages and would never ever use or need again, and you told it in a most poetic way - I see bits and pieces of poetry and/or poems in this column.” (Blush.)
A reader in Clinton says of her son, “S. has sold scrap copper and brass to ABC salvage, among others in Harrison. He gives away old water heaters to a local man who then carts them to salvage.”
She also asked if the water heater was ever picked up. My answer: “Yes, he brought a helper a day or two later and got it. The copper on top he said would be worth $3.”
Then she replied, “Copper is high. G. [husband] wants S. to take the scrap copper off the heaters he gives away, but do you think that happens? No. And his workers could do that.
“Young folks, who did not live in the Depression Years!!! Nor did I, but I was born then and have heard the stories . . . sometimes, it seems those times may be coming back.”
A Beebe friend and reader responded: “I remember Mother giving out food, with drinks in a fruit jar she let them [the scrap-iron folks] keep. She always found some leftovers or scrambled up some eggs or something.”
Do you also think we might be headed back [oxymoron?] to life and times of the 1930s?
Chrysanthemums are blooming everywhere. In my yard are various sizes and colors: maroon, bronze and pink. By now, all your houseplants should be inside.I have hauled a money tree, corn plant, schefflera, mother-in-law’s tongue, split-leafed philodendron, Chinese lily and a 6-foot Norfolk pine into the computer/sunroom.
Last week’s column on scrap metal mongering brought several responses about others’ experiences.
One Little Rock friend told that he and his wife decided to clear the clutter under their house and deck––‘a life time collection of car parts, bicycles, water tanks, etc.’
“We too, found the ABC Salvage on Stagecoach Road and hauled the scrap there. My intention was to just get rid of it in an environmentally friendly way. When I got there I found that they actually pay you for the scrap. You segregate it into ferrous and non-ferrous metals, they scan your driver's license, weigh the non-ferrous metals, have you drive over a truck-like scale and drive down into the collection ‘yard’.
“You dump the load and drive back over the scale. All this data is apparently electronically sent to the office where you go to collect your cash. As a result of two trips with my Saturn-loads of scrap, we collected about $300 for our troubles. I thought this was quite good since we were primarily interested in ‘just getting rid of the scrap’."
A Mountain Home reader emailed this reply: “Really enjoyed this column - it covers recycling, getting rid (in a good and useful way and helpful too) of stuff you've had around for ages and would never ever use or need again, and you told it in a most poetic way - I see bits and pieces of poetry and/or poems in this column.” (Blush.)
A reader in Clinton says of her son, “S. has sold scrap copper and brass to ABC salvage, among others in Harrison. He gives away old water heaters to a local man who then carts them to salvage.”
She also asked if the water heater was ever picked up. My answer: “Yes, he brought a helper a day or two later and got it. The copper on top he said would be worth $3.”
Then she replied, “Copper is high. G. [husband] wants S. to take the scrap copper off the heaters he gives away, but do you think that happens? No. And his workers could do that.
“Young folks, who did not live in the Depression Years!!! Nor did I, but I was born then and have heard the stories . . . sometimes, it seems those times may be coming back.”
A Beebe friend and reader responded: “I remember Mother giving out food, with drinks in a fruit jar she let them [the scrap-iron folks] keep. She always found some leftovers or scrambled up some eggs or something.”
Do you also think we might be headed back [oxymoron?] to life and times of the 1930s?
Thursday, October 6, 2011
Yes, there’s still a market for scrap iron, er, scrap metal
by Pat Laster
CORRECTION/ CLARIFICATION about an item in last week’s post. My uncle from Oak Ridge reminded me that I should have said “Interstate Forty is 284 miles long IN ARKANSAS.”
New blooms since last week: a blue double African violet from a plant I started with a leaf, a red epesia (sometimes called a trailing violet) that loves food and sunlight, a yellow canna and several red naked-lady lilies along the back circle drive.
An unusual happening: a scrap iron monger/collector came by one day last week. In this day and age? “There’s still a market for scrap iron?” I asked.
“Got any old washing-machines or water heaters that need hauling off?” In fact, I DID have a water heater in the basement.
Shades of the 1940s! As a child, I remember collecting scrap iron for the war effort.
“Time’s is hard,” he said, waving his hands. “I ain’t no criminal,” he assured me, as I still stood behind the storm door.
“Meet me around back,” I said, and I dashed to retrieve my housecoat, which I snapped all the way down (It was time for a nap, so I was dressed in p.j. bottoms and a tee shirt).
We met at the back; I asked his name, where he lived and where he took his load. A backwoodsman (well-enough-fed, it looked like) doing enough business to own an electric metal cutter and a low-sided trailer hitched behind his old-model, windshield-cracked black truck.
We never made it to the basement. I allowed him to take down the temporary barrier at the old driveway made of concrete blocks and landscape timbers so he could drive close to the shed. (Since he drove out the other side of the yard, he forgot to put the barrier back.)
He mentioned he knew one of my Pelton cousins and said he’d always loved this house.
“Built in 1932,” I said. And he nodded.
From the shed porch and the southwest corner of the back yard hidden by privet and honeysuckle, we gathered up a storm/screen door, a HEAVY cafeteria-sized folding table, an old grill, a swing set from Kid Billy’s childhood, a vent pipe from the now-defunct gas water heater, a crippled wheelbarrow, a rusty spring for a baby crib and a child’s lawn chair with rotted webbing.
It was early afternoon and sunny. He puffed and blew and said something about a glass of ice. I dutifully went in while he loaded his unused, but-plugged-in-just-in-case, metal cutter, and found a large Styrofoam cup. I filled it with both ice and water, and took it out, handed it to him—Heath, he said, like the candy bar.
Profuse thanks from both of us ensued. “When is the best time to come by?” he asked, and I told him. His last words were, “Call me.”
Scrap iron collectors. What used to be old is new again? Maybe not.
Online information shows that ABC Salvage on Stagecoach Road in Little Rock has been in business since 1985 with an annual revenue from $5-10 million and employs a staff of from 10-19. Searching further, I learned that many world countries deal in scrap metals.
Are there scrap metal collectors in your town? Ferret them out if you have stuff lying around. It will help others as well as yourself. #
CORRECTION/ CLARIFICATION about an item in last week’s post. My uncle from Oak Ridge reminded me that I should have said “Interstate Forty is 284 miles long IN ARKANSAS.”
New blooms since last week: a blue double African violet from a plant I started with a leaf, a red epesia (sometimes called a trailing violet) that loves food and sunlight, a yellow canna and several red naked-lady lilies along the back circle drive.
An unusual happening: a scrap iron monger/collector came by one day last week. In this day and age? “There’s still a market for scrap iron?” I asked.
“Got any old washing-machines or water heaters that need hauling off?” In fact, I DID have a water heater in the basement.
Shades of the 1940s! As a child, I remember collecting scrap iron for the war effort.
“Time’s is hard,” he said, waving his hands. “I ain’t no criminal,” he assured me, as I still stood behind the storm door.
“Meet me around back,” I said, and I dashed to retrieve my housecoat, which I snapped all the way down (It was time for a nap, so I was dressed in p.j. bottoms and a tee shirt).
We met at the back; I asked his name, where he lived and where he took his load. A backwoodsman (well-enough-fed, it looked like) doing enough business to own an electric metal cutter and a low-sided trailer hitched behind his old-model, windshield-cracked black truck.
We never made it to the basement. I allowed him to take down the temporary barrier at the old driveway made of concrete blocks and landscape timbers so he could drive close to the shed. (Since he drove out the other side of the yard, he forgot to put the barrier back.)
He mentioned he knew one of my Pelton cousins and said he’d always loved this house.
“Built in 1932,” I said. And he nodded.
From the shed porch and the southwest corner of the back yard hidden by privet and honeysuckle, we gathered up a storm/screen door, a HEAVY cafeteria-sized folding table, an old grill, a swing set from Kid Billy’s childhood, a vent pipe from the now-defunct gas water heater, a crippled wheelbarrow, a rusty spring for a baby crib and a child’s lawn chair with rotted webbing.
It was early afternoon and sunny. He puffed and blew and said something about a glass of ice. I dutifully went in while he loaded his unused, but-plugged-in-just-in-case, metal cutter, and found a large Styrofoam cup. I filled it with both ice and water, and took it out, handed it to him—Heath, he said, like the candy bar.
Profuse thanks from both of us ensued. “When is the best time to come by?” he asked, and I told him. His last words were, “Call me.”
Scrap iron collectors. What used to be old is new again? Maybe not.
Online information shows that ABC Salvage on Stagecoach Road in Little Rock has been in business since 1985 with an annual revenue from $5-10 million and employs a staff of from 10-19. Searching further, I learned that many world countries deal in scrap metals.
Are there scrap metal collectors in your town? Ferret them out if you have stuff lying around. It will help others as well as yourself. #
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)