I’m sure that every person who writes, be it novels or 600-word columns, must, every once in a while wonder when the well is going to run dry. I think I’ve mentioned before that I have a bulging manila folder in my old WWII filing cabinet that’s devoted to remedies for that illness. Some are short, scribbled notes, others are columns that, once written, got shoved aside for more topical matters. I came across one of the latter from several years ago that had to do with the fact that many practices eventually lose their effectiveness by being overused.
It involved the increasing practice of giving standing ovations to performances that are only a little bit better than average, if that. There had been a column in the Seattle Times to the effect that the practice was being abused, even in that metropolitan environment. Practitioners of such behavior seem to think that it encourages talent. I, in my usual crotchety manner, maintain it only teaches a young performer that mediocre talent is “good enough.” Anyway, portions of that old column which dealt with the diminishing value of military symbols were never used.
One example was the yellow ribbon. Remember the song, “Tie a Yellow Ribbon ‘Round the Old Oak Tree” I seem to recall it was meant to honor released or rescued prisoners of war back in the days when we were losing the Vietnam War. It lost its meaning as the requirements for its display were slowly diminished.
Another example: when I volunteered to be a paratrooper one of the things that we cherished was being the only branch of service to wear paratrooper boots and to “blouse” our trousers over the top of them. We were allowed — nay, commanded — to wear them, but those boots weren’t issued to us. We had to buy them from a private manufacturer! They cost more than $25 as I recall, and we needed two pair: one for general use and one for show and inspections. This was with a private’s salary 70 years ago being $75 per month! However, the extra $50 per month hazardous duty pay for jumping out of perfectly good airplanes did soften the blow.
Now, from what I’ve seen on TV, standard issue boots today look pretty much like the ones we had to buy out of our own pockets and there was a rumor a few years ago and that trousers were no longer going to be bloused into them, a distinguished and proud honor for those of us who wore them. I could be wrong about that because keeping up with military procedure has been low on my list of important matters ever since I received my honorable discharge papers. They’re a little below my interest in making sure Zelda’s food dish always has at least a few salmon-flavored pellets in it. Zelda, by the way, has just turned 17!
About the same time that the Army was taking away a paratrooper’s bit of pride, another branch of service was given the honor of being distinguished by the wearing of green berets. Don’t get me wrong, those guys — like Navy Seals — earned every right to special forms of dress code, but I’ll bet they didn’t have to buy their own berets.
Enough griping. I’m pleased that many people have enjoyed my listing some ways of telling whether or not one can determine if he or she is an “old timer” in Lewis County and I encouraged you to send me one or more of your own. Meanwhile, here’s another example: “You may not be an old timer, but you’re certainly getting close to it if you can say you graduated from Boistfort High School.”
Now, how about sending me one or more of your own examples.
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Bill Moeller is a former entertainer, mayor, bookstore owner, city council member, paratrooper and pilot living in Centralia. He can be reached at bookmaven321@comcast.net.
