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Females/Pick on Peg

Sláinte

May 14, 2025 by Peg Leave a Comment

Isle of Skye, Scotland 2017

Not long ago Peg and I visited the Isle of Skye in Scotland. We took a bus ride to the small town of Portree and chuckled when we were let off near an intersection with a sign that said, “Caution, Elderly People Crossing”. The sign had a drawing of a bent at the waist old woman holding onto an even more acutely bent old man leaning on a cane. It looked strangely familiar.

Portree is the capital of the Isle of Skye. It has a little more than 2,000 residents, most of whom pretend to speak English, but who really communicate among themselves in Scottish Gaelic. Alcohol is available as long as you do not order “Scotch”. The Scotch drink is “whiskey”. The locals are reservedly polite but do not hide their bemusement at American tourists, especially if the tourists resemble the Elderly Crossing signs.

Just as many other societies, the Scotch have an arcane yang and yin approach to regulating the use and abuse of alcohol. At our hotel the tiny bar was intimate and comforting. Dark walls and heavy wooden furniture were accented by the lone barkeep who was obviously accustomed to explaining the local customs to hapless American tourists. He was of ruddy, bewhiskered visage and a roguishly engaging attitude. He was reminiscent of the 19th century immigrants who brought their Viking-like culture with them to America. Peg and I were his only customers that bleary afternoon after our bus trip. He put on his best Scottish brogue to disguise the true meaning of his responses to my haltingly timid order for a double shot of Bailey’s as though I were addressing Cerberus guarding the Bar. He scoffed, rolled his eyes and his tongue then condescendingly informed me it was illegal to buy a double for one person. Then, with a twinkle he said, “Now, should you wish to buy a single for your wife and a separate single for yourself, that will work”. So, even though I had already ordered a “Scotch” for myself and received a primer on it being properly called a “whiskey”, I ordered as instructed.

This experience reminded me of my days as an underage American trying to procure 3.2% beer from a drive-through beer joint. It always seemed to me that the only thing the Volstead Act accomplished was to sharpen the imaginations of thirsty Americans and, according to my family’s lore, to keep my Uncle Henry’s moonshine still in business. It looked to me like Scotland had approached alcohol prohibition and regulation in a similar fashion.

Regardless, Peg did get to drown her ennui about “Elderly People”; the two Baileys did the trick. However, we both have remained acutely aware of how our strides might appear; we strive to walk straighter and more briskly, and, of course, without a cane.

Portree, Isle of Skye, Scotland 2017

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Filed Under: Females/Pick on Peg, Gavel Gamut, Personal Fun, Travel Tagged With: alcohol, Bailey's, Elderly People, Isle of Skye, James M. Redwine, Jim Redwine, Scotch, Scotland, Slainte, Whiskey

Spring, Humbug

March 12, 2025 by Peg Leave a Comment

James Taylor wrote Sweet Baby James in 1970:

“There’s a song that they sing when they take to the highway
A song that they sing when they take to the sea
Song that they sing of their home in the sky
Maybe you can believe it if it helps you to sleep
But singing works just fine for me”

If you side with those who dream of a home in the sky, paradise was populated by Adam and Eve. Their Garden of Eden was perfect but that did not stop Eve from trying to improve it. You know, kind of like some wives when spring arrives. Say my wife, Peg, for example. I can imagine the conversation between Adam and Eve.

“Adam, isn’t this idyllic? Everything is just perfect. However, that one tree needs its fruit plucked. Would you mind just keeping an eye on that serpent while you are lounging around doing nothing?”

It is theoretically possible that was the beginning of humanity’s Rite of Spring where husbands are cast out of their dens by their wives who are intoxicated from the sight of emerging buds, the feel of damp earth and the smell of humas. I am reminded of Peg’s need to transform our perfect new home with paint and flower beds. Spring should be re-named the season of restless wives and “Honey, could you?” Where in the Constitution is it provided that it is illegal, or at least, unpolitic, for husbands to prop up their feet while waiting for a fish to make a mistake?

What estrogen fueled behavior is it that prevents wives from allowing winter to gently and slowly thaw its way to autumn and football season? Or as Professor Henry Higgins in My Fair Lady asked, “Why can’t a woman be more like a man?” My guess is that Dr. Louis Leakey only found Lucy and not her mate in Olduvai Gorge because she had her husband off performing some springtime chore. Nothing has changed in a few hundred thousand years.

Now, it may not be that the female response to spring is responsible for all the world’s troubles, but I think it goes without question that Peg’s incessant activities both in our cabin and our yard interfere with my desire to fish our pond and watch Gunsmoke reruns. I will leave it to you, Gentle Reader, at least those of you of the testosterone persuasion, what else could it be?

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Filed Under: Females/Pick on Peg, Gavel Gamut, Gender, Males, Personal Fun, Spring

Predictions

January 1, 2025 by Peg Leave a Comment

Happy New Year! Photo by Peg Redwine

It is the new year, a time when we humans have often either savored our accomplishments, reflected on our regrets, dreamed of our hopes or dreaded our fears. The new year has long been a time when people of many cultures have analyzed the past and predicted the future. As Yogi Berra might have said, the future is hard to predict. However, that has never stopped us from trying. As for me, I find regretting the past only makes it more regrettable and dreading the unknown future only leads to self-fulfilling prophecies. On the other hand, attempting to predict the as yet uncontrollable events ahead will probably do little harm as the world will ignore us anyway. Ergo, I will boldly, if ignorantly, publish a few of my predictions as my experience has been hardly anyone will pay attention so no harm will result.

First, I will not lose weight nor exercise more unless an increasing frequency of nighttime bathroom trips qualifies. Nor will I read the many potentially life-altering books I have in my library. Second, I will not help Peg more around the house nor spend less money on chips and dip and less time in front of the telly. Third, none of my complaints about any public officials will result in any constructive impacts as, first of all they will not be read and secondly none of the officials will think they need to make any changes.

When it comes to generic suggestions, such as I and many others have been making for many years, our state and federal governments may take umbrage, if they even take notice, but not one of our calls for peace in the Middle East or anywhere else will be heeded. In fact, I predict our national leaders will swallow the false intelligence once again fed to us by Israel, such as “weapons of mass destruction”, and we will support a war against Iran as we enable Israel’s theft and destruction of Palestine and Syria.

I do predict Ukraine’s invasion by Russia will finally reach a stalemate on the terms I predicted just after it began three years ago; and, after we have expended billions of our treasure. Russia will stop in return for a permanent seizure of Crimea that they have occupied since 2014 and the permanent occupation of a substantial portion of Ukraine east of the Dnipro River with Ukraine to maintain its ownership and control over the port of Odessa on the Black Sea. I further predict Russia will not help rebuild Ukraine, but America will to the tune of many more billions of our dollars.

Well, Gentle Reader, I suppose you can tell why I find predictions of the future as unhelpful as Yogi might have. I do have many more fears and hopes relating to our fragile globe’s future, but I find the concentration upon them debilitating. And, as it is the new year, I will just succumb to muddling on through 2025. “Happy” New Year to you all.

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Filed Under: Females/Pick on Peg, Gavel Gamut, New Year's, World Events Tagged With: Black Sea, Crimea, Dnipro River, Gentle Reader, Iran, Israel, James M. Redwine, Jim Redwine, New Year, Odessa, Palestine, peace in the Middle East, Peg, predictions, Russia, Syria, Ukraine, Weapons of Mass Destruction, Yogi Berra

IU Wins

October 31, 2024 by Peg Leave a Comment

At an IU game

Indiana University football coach, Curt Cignetti, promised his team would win before he ever took the field in Bloomington, Indiana. He has been better than his word and as I write this column on Halloween, I boldly predict the Hoosiers will be 9-0 after they beat Michigan State 34 to 23 at East Lansing, Michigan the day after tomorrow. I realize both the score and the total outcome could be different than what I assert, but that’s why they call them predictions.

I wish Coaches John Pont, Lee Corso and Tom Allen were going to be there to join in the celebration but I know they will be there with spirit and support; Peg and I certainly will be. As I have not been on campus as a student since 1970 and the Cream and Crimson have not had this kind of success since the 1967-1968 season, all Indiana fans now have something to cheer. I could tell when ESPN’s GameDay was at Bloomington before last week’s game, the student body was totally exhilarated.

I am confident that Coach Cignetti has been eagerly awaiting my analysis and game input. Perhaps he’s having a difficult time finding my phone number in Osage County, Oklahoma. If I had not had an accident at our small ranch earlier this week, Peg and I could attend the game and be available with advice.

I’m going to keep this column short as my minor accident while working around our place makes it difficult to write. That’s why I’m dictating this column to Peg; she always corrects them anyway. We will be parked in front of the television Saturday making sure that the Coaches know we are available if they need a quick fix. Our disciplined team will stay alert to the damage that penalties and turnovers cause; we do not expect to see many of either.

♫ “….
Never daunted, we cannot falter
In the battle, we’re tried and true
Indiana, Our Indiana
Indiana, we’re all for you. IU!” ♫

 

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Filed Under: Events, Females/Pick on Peg, Football, Gavel Gamut, Indiana University Tagged With: Coach Curt Cignetti, ESPN GaveDay, football, Hoosiers, Indiana University, IU, James M. Redwine, Jim Redwine, John Pont, Lee Corso, Tom Allen

Labor Day

August 30, 2024 by Peg Leave a Comment

My father’s father was killed in an accident when my dad was nine years old. My father had to quit school in his third-grade year to help his mother support the family. He went to work in an independent coal mine running water to the older workers. The mine was unregulated by state or federal law. The shaft was supported with tree limbs for beams and the coal produced was high sulfur. The dust he breathed helped lead to his death from cancer when he was fifty-eight. He left the mine which closed when the shaft collapsed upon some of the miners. Dad was out of the mine on a water run at the time the supporting tree limbs gave way.

It was not just coal dust that contributed to his health problems. When he had to search out another job after the cave-in, he found work in a cement plant where he breathed in cement dust for several years. He lost that job when he had a heart attack at age thirty-three but had no health nor unemployment benefits from the company. He was out of work and bedridden for six months while my mother nursed him back to health. They were without outside income or insurance during that period. That is why my father went into insurance sales. He and my mother were strong supporters of workers’ rights who revered Labor Day just as they did July Fourth. They knew that law was essential to ensure safe working conditions. Such things as child labor laws, restricted work hours and days, health precautions and minimum wage requirements are not socialist ideals but are some of the building blocks of our economy. Labor Day is a celebration of America’s commitment to fairness, equality and good economics in the workplace.

Of course, as Peg points out, for about half of America’s workforce the bulk of their work is in their homes. Peg says it is ironic that we have a national holiday named Labor Day. She asks, “What about some fairness and equality in labor around the home and, what’s more, what about some recognition not just for ‘child labor’ but for the labor of having a child?” I should have seen this discussion coming when I casually mentioned my days of manual labor for hire.

According to Peg, Mother’s Day is a fine recognition of mothers but flowers once a year just doesn’t cut it. “Where’s the beef?” she asks. “Where is the minimum wage for round-the-clock cleaning, cooking, laundry, deliveries, nursing, sewing, yard work, gardening, child care, carpooling, schedule maintenance, bookkeeping, counseling and furnishing a sympathetic sounding board for every hurt feeling? And what about some time off occasionally? How about some time alone with peace and quiet and a cool drink that somebody else brings to me?”

Well, Gentle Reader, you most likely fall on whichever side of this one-way discussion your gender dictates. So, for now, I plan to change the subject and return to a topic I may be able to discuss without interruption, that is, Labor Day. Oh, not the one Peg is on about, but the one declared by President Grover Cleveland in 1894. So here goes.

Peg got agitated as we watched numerous male politicians on television exhort the wonders of the American, mostly male, workers whose harsh working conditions in the 19th and 20th centuries caused the birth of Labor Day. When it came to Peg’s complaints about work in the home, I felt duty bound to point out that husbands were responsible for much of her complained about female labors. After all, someone has to wear the clean clothes, eat the food and watch the kids play soccer and baseball. It is not all beer and TV you know. And if anyone had ever asked men to have the kids, who is to say we might not have considered it.

Further, most men have no problem with wearing the same comfortable t-shirt and Levi’s for a week or so. And on top of that, beer and chips have plenty of nutritional value to sustain men through football season. I told Peg, gently, that she was being disingenuous in her analysis of the significance of Labor Day. Labor Day for male workers was much like the right to vote for women. While women were wearing white, marching and singing songs about freedom, we men were busy gathering at bars talking about seeking fair working conditions. Men gladly organized for shorter work weeks and safer working conditions as women sought not just the right to vote, but also better working conditions and fair and equal treatment everywhere. The two movements fed off the synergy of one another and, together, made life better for both men at work and women at home and work.

Of course, those intertwined crusades for justice made our country better for us all. So, I guess if Peg thinks Labor Day is truly about all labor, I will, in the spirit of home harmony, agree. After all, I’m getting hungry and the game’s about to start on tv and I’m hoping Peg will bring me chips and a beer.

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Filed Under: America, Events, Females/Pick on Peg, Gavel Gamut, Males, Personal Fun, Socialism, United States, Women's Rights Tagged With: child labor laws, Gentle Reader, health benefits, James M. Redwine, Jim Redwine, Labor Day, minimum wage requirements, Peg, safe working conditions, unemployment benefits

The Birds

April 26, 2024 by Peg Leave a Comment

Peg has an almost pathological approach/avoidance psychosis with the date of April 15. Together we experience each year’s stride, step, stumble and eventual exhausted final shoulder bruising penance of shoving the burden of our tax obligation up to Mount Olympus, that is, Washington D.C. On the other hand, Peg each year becomes teenage girl giddy as the traditional return of the hummingbirds to the feeders she sterilizes and fills with sugar water. No wonder the little woman-made diabetics buzz in and out in a frenzy of laser like attacks. You see, Peg is convinced “her” hummingbirds spend from November to April 15 watching the calendar and calculating when she will hang out the syrupy nectar. This year Peg exceeded all avian expectations, but, the first zooming scout did not come until April 17.

 Each year is the same. About April Fool’s Day Peg begins fretting she has somehow offended the Patron Saint Francis of Assisi and “her” hummingbirds will abandon her numerous feeding stations and soar right over us in search of sweeter pastures. I told Peg that failsafe source, the Internet, also names Switzerland’s St. Gallen (St. Gall), or the disputed Saint Milburga, an English nun, or perhaps the Russian Saint Tryphon Medallion were the patron saints of birds. But Peg said since she and I had been to Assisi and visited the Saint’s tomb, she was pretty sure she should address any complaints about hummingbirds to him.

Anyway, apparently none of the saints have been offended by my destruction of several bird nests built under the eaves of our cabin and bunkhouse. Well, they may have gently punished Peg for my indiscretions by making her wait until two days after Tax Day for the birdlike epiphany.

 However, now all is well and Peg is convinced the hummingbirds actually know our address and plan their entire yearly migration from South America or Mexico to our front veranda to besot themselves on Peg’s sugary slurry. It’s okay with me if she wants to believe it, but I am just glad to see the smiles return to her face as the small kamikazes jockey for position at her feeders. They certainly are aggressive little creatures. They remind me of Jonathan Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels and the gigantic King of the Brobdingnags who is appalled by the vicious nature of tiny humans who invented canon and gun powder instead of seeking peaceful solutions to sharing resources.

Be that as it may, while I view the birds’ infighting over Peg’s largess as off putting, Peg sees everything they do as adorable. Each year we agree to disagree as to the true nature of the hummingbirds. You will note, Gentle Reader, the feeders still go out every April.

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Filed Under: Events, Females/Pick on Peg, Gavel Gamut, JPeg Osage Ranch, Personal Fun Tagged With: April 15, April Fool’s Day, Gentle Reader, hummingbirds, James M. Redwine, Jim Redwine, Peg, Saint Francis of Assisi

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© 2024 James M. Redwine

 

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