James M. Redwine

JPeg Ranch

Eden Revisited

by Leave a Comment

*** Update from Peg: After reading this article please see pictures below along with explanation! ***

The Garden of Eden set a standard no other garden can match. All Adam and Eve had to do was wander around fig leaf-less and enjoy earth’s bounty. Well, there was that small inconvenience of avoiding the fruit of one tree, but even with that tree there was no pruning, no Japanese beetles and no cultivation. Not even the concept of weeding and tilling were mentioned. In sum, neither a hoe nor Roundup were issues. There was no need for Adam to devise strategies to avoid his wife’s complaints that Mother Nature was winning the battle over whether fruits and vegetables or crabgrass would dominate. Adam could simply prop up his feet and, if he could have accessed cable T.V., watch football without guilt. Ah, if only Peg’s garden were the same.

“Jim, have you even looked at the garden recently? I have no idea what that stuff is growing out there but it sure is not the late-season vegetables I planted. It is humiliating to see the neighbors’ weed-free plants. Don’t you care?”

I bit my tongue and suppressed a truthful response. “Would you like for me to till the garden AGAIN?” Then I suggested IGA had a cornucopia of ripe and blemish-free tomatoes and onions. “You know, Peg, grocery stores need our business.We should try to be good community members and help keep those folks employed.” That sounded reasonable, to me.

“We buy plenty of groceries that we can’t grow such as paper products, detergent, peanut butter, and practically everything else we need. The stores won’t close if you weed our garden so we can grow a few fresh tomatoes. Is that stupid football game about over?” I did not tell her it was the third game of the day.

As I put down my iced tea and forced myself off the couch my life flashed through my brain. How did this come to be? Did it go all the way back to Eve? Did her seemingly benign offering of a weed-free apple to Adam determine the fate for all husbands for all time? And if it is not too impertinent to raise this issue, why did God include weeds in His grand scheme anyway? It’s probably as simple as He didn’t have a wife so He wasn’t worried.

Anyway, I slowly went from my cool den to my hot barn and found my two-cycle gas tiller. The tiller was about as reluctant as I was to face the hopelessly entwined non-edible vegetation. I primed the engine. I used starter fluid. I pulled on the cord for what seemed like an hour, so much so I caused a blister, before the tiller gave up and started. Then I trudged through the tangled mess that Peg claims is a garden. I completely understood the poetic analogy of William Cullen Bryant’s poem Thanatopsis in which he cautioned against approaching death (or gardening) like one being “scourged to his dungeon”. What I could not do was conquer my desire to dig out my old container of 2-4D and use the nuclear option. Unfortunately, Peg had anticipated just such a course of action and she had already disposed of it.

Okay, after only two hours and one blister the garden was tilled. Perhaps it will be at least two weeks before the weeds reemerge in all their sardonic evil. Once again, I ask you, would it have been too hard to design the whole thing better?

P.S. From Peg:

Folks, don’t feel too sorry for my hubby. Our neighbor, Chuck Minnette, took pity on him and offered to help as per the pictures below!

7 Days vs 45 Minutes

by Leave a Comment

Both the Quran and the Bible claim the World was created in 6 days by a God who even took a final day to rest up. I am okay with this explanation. It is simple, understandable and interesting. It certainly beats all the hours needed by me in an attempt to dimly comprehend the physics, chemistry and biology behind evolution. However, this is not a column about the age-old discussion about science versus religion. No, this is a plea to the sadists who write the directions that accompany Do-It-Yourself home improvement projects such as installing a ceiling fan.

If God needed only 6 days to create the World, it is pretty obvious to me He did not have to decipher some instruction manual written originally in Chinese then translated into what resembles English. God had the advantage of proceeding unencumbered by misleading photographs of parts and diabolical descriptions of which part goes where. My assumption is Satan was still in God’s good graces when the World was created or he had already been cast out of heaven before God decided to amuse Himself with Adam and Eve.

Apparently Satan did not attempt to confuse God with some phony How-To book on Creation as did the fiends who wrote the instructions for installing the ceiling fan Peg demanded I put up last weekend.

Let me first point out the light Peg told me to replace had been put in by me only 10 years earlier. I had no trouble unscrewing the old one and connecting the black wire to the black, the white wire to the white and the green ground wire. After all, I have had about 20 years of formal education and labored at numerous jobs that required I follow instructions, being a husband for instance. If things are simple, I am your man.

But when I opened the 39 page instruction manual for the “Impreso en China” (made in China?) ceiling fan and light I had the same sinking feeling I experienced when I sat for the Bar Exam. It did not help that the portion written in Spanish made as much sense to me as the part in English.

The most nefarious part of this guide into the depths of the “simple” procedure was the statement on page 5: “ESTIMATED ASSEMBLY TIME – 45 MINUTES”. Yes, this was all in capital letters and in bold type. I could sense the glee of the group of nasty nerds when they wrote this great Creation Myth. God would have just thrown up His hands had these sadistic purveyors of obfuscation been around to “help” Him develop the World.

To The Members Of The First Line

by Leave a Comment

In a Cajun funeral one’s family and close friends form the First Line and send him/her off with a procession dancing to “When the Saints Go Marching In.” Homilies are recited, personal remembrances are told, and a sad time becomes a good time. Although neither Cajun nor Creole, I was honored with a rousing send off from my close friends and even closer family on Saturday, August 16, 2014. We had my funeral at JPeg Ranch and I immensely enjoyed it. It was also nice to hear what was said and sung.

One of my friends, Randy Pease who is a fine guitar player and song writer, wrote and performed “The Ballad of Jim Redwine”. Another friend, D. Neil Harris who is a judge in Mississippi and a professional trombone player, sent a video of himself playing a fine rendition of “Saints” while he whirled a Hula-Hoop.

The entire First Line of about 130 family and friends marched around our barn singing and swaying. Limericks, poems, testimonials and stories of past glories (or not) were shared as I, the Dearly Not Departed, listened carefully.

This greatly satisfying event came to mind yesterday as my sister, two sisters-in-law, two brothers and, of course, Peg, met with the Reverend Mr. Ken Woodham who wisely leads and carefully guides the combined congregations of the Pawhuska, Oklahoma First Presbyterian and Disciples of Christ churches.

Ken and the Church Board have the unenviable task of overseeing the inevitable “funeral” of the marvelous old and declining building that housed the First Christian (Disciples of Christ) congregation for almost 100 years. Countless important events such as weddings, funerals and baptisms took place in those hallowed halls. My own baptism occurred there September 9, 1951, and my siblings and I saw off our beloved parents there. Our lives and that building have progressed happily together.

Much as my own funeral, what Peg calls my Fun-er-al, was a celebration of many lives, the Church Board has wisely determined the “funeral” for the brick and mortar part of our church will be a celebration. All members, past and present, are invited to preserve mementos such as stained-glass windows, pews and tables. No charge will be made and no contributions are required. Of course, my memory of the fine people who have served this house of love and respect leads me to suspect voluntary offerings will be forthcoming. As to the real church, i.e., the people who have graced this structure that now deserves a respectful goodbye, they will live on in both memory and current service.

You might wonder about my physical well-being or perhaps my mental health. My self-diagnosis is both were good in 2014 and remain so. Of course, other opinions may live on. If you should think me and Peg just a little left of plumb for holding my life celebration a little early or if you question the Church Board’s send off of the old building with love instead of a garage sale, I respectfully suggest life’s best work and best times occur when we are just a little crazy.

Ah, I Remember It Well

by 2 Comments

August 25th. Ah, I now remember it well, thanks to Peg who sweetly asked me over our first cup of coffee, “Jim, isn’t this just a beautiful morning?” I looked up from the trial transcript I was proofreading and grunted, “Yeah”. Things went downhill from there.

As Peg had interrupted my work I assumed she would be pleased to get me some more coffee; so I held up my cup and said as politely as Oliver Twist, “More”.

Her response threw me off: “It’s in the coffee pot. Why don’t you see if you can pour your own while I concentrate on making the bed, emptying the dishwasher, feeding the cat, sweeping the floor and pulling the weeds in the garden? By the way, Happy Anniversary!”

I went into crisis-recovery mode. “Are you sure, I thought it was the 25th.”

“Today IS the 25th and you should already know that since I made a point of telling you yesterday on August 24th that I was planning your favorite dinner for today. Of course, you had your head stuck in that transcript then and merely mumbled something like ‘Okay’”.

Thinking at warp speed I said, “Oh what a grand wedding it was on such a gorgeous day.”

 “We got married in a thunderstorm! You kept telling me ‘It never rains on August 25th so we can have the wedding outside’. But our family and guests had to dodge lightning bolts and huge raindrops!”

 “Well, at least our D.J. stayed dry.”

  “Our D.J. was Rodney Fetcher and he had to set up in the tool shed so he wouldn’t get electrocuted!”

 “Yeah, he did a great job. Remember, we did our first dance to Here Comes the Sun by George Harrison.”

 “It wasToday by Randy Sparks of the New Christy Minstrels.”

 “Anyway, you looked great in that blue dress.”

“It was coral to match your tux. Which, by the way, you managed to spill our champagne toast on.”

I decided to take an old friend’s advice for situations such as this, “When in a hole the first thing is to stop digging.”

“Okay, what do you want to do to celebrate this happy occasion? Dinner at the Red Geranium? A quiet glass of wine out by the fire pit? Whatever sounds good to you will be fine with me.”

“I would have appreciated it if you had simply remembered that we did, in fact, get married.”

“I do remember and it was, I mean is, wonderful. It was just that it snuck up on me. Would a movie help?”

“No movie, no Red Geranium, no wine by the fire. How about just a card or at least some flowers?”

Oh, Gentle Reader, I don’t know about you but all I can hear going on in my head is the duet by Hermione Gingold and Maurice Chevalier from the musical Gigi. Perhaps Peg will allow me up from the canvas if I bring home a box of chocolates with the Lerner and Loewe lyrics taped to them:

“The dazzling moon,
There was none that night.
The month was June
It was [August};
That’s right …”

 

Well, you get the idea. I’m just glad we have only one anniversary per year because the chill in the air at JPeg Ranch is not conducive to my getting my work done and anything else is completely out of the question.

Peg’s Motto: Jim’s Labor Omnia Vincit

by Leave a Comment

This famous Latin phrase, “Work Conquers All”, was originally a piece of propaganda used by the Roman poet Virgil (70 BC-19 BC) in his poem Georgics to curry favor with the Roman emperor Augustus (63 BC- 14 AD). Augustus wanted to encourage Roman citizens to quit their enjoyable lives of drinking wine and discussing politics to take up the hard work of farming. Peg, and maybe your spouse too, has carried on this tradition.

​In the beginning were the innocent sounding words, “Jim, are you taking a vacation this summer?”

I thoughtlessly replied, “I dunno, why?”

“Oh, I just thought we could spend some time together at the Ranch, relax and catch up on some things.”

“Sounds good, I’ll check my docket.” Unfortunately it wasn’t too busy. I aimlessly proceeded into Peg’s nefarious Inferno.

Wives and husbands see “relaxing” and “catching up on things” from different perspectives, kinda like foxes and roosters might see dinner. The first two weeks of August were anticipated by me to be a bucolic period of connecting with the deer, fish, wild turkeys and even the pesky raccoons around JPeg Ranch. What could be wrong with some time spent with my feet up and a good book or a cool beverage to lull me to sleep on a lazy summer afternoon? Ask Peg!

“Since you are home with nothing to do would you mind …?” Yep, the dreaded LIST!  Peg had been secretly working on it since spring. I had no idea our home was near the point of complete collapse from chores undone, by me, of course. Immediate action was called for. What wasn’t called for, or allowed, was propped up feet.

Now one need not be mentally exhausted from reading or relating a seriatim rundown of the physically exhausting chores that stood between “relax” and utter destruction of our home. Their actual completion was punishment enough. Suffice it to say that from tilling the garden, to reorganizing my stacks of half-finished projects from years past, my vacation morphed from pastoral pleasure to a yearning for a return to Court. I’ll be there Monday!

Putrid Porridge

by 1 Comment

As this is a family newspaper I cannot recite the W.C. Fields (1880 – 1946) actual quotation about why he did not drink water. However, after spending two full days removing a winter’s worth of sludge from Peg’s above ground pool I side with W.C. My first clue as to the toxicity of the greenish, quivering mass clinging to the Walmart plastic liner was when my friend Paul Axton, who is a Department of Natural Resources officer, stopped by to retrieve the racoon trap he had loaned me. Paul smelled the acrid fumes rising from the pool and walked over to investigate.

“Jim have you notified the E.P.A. about this concoction? It may require Congressional oversight to remove this junk. If this gets into the wrong hands terrorists may be able to use it for untold mayhem.”

“No, Paul, but Peg has already ordered me to get in that knee deep filth and prepare the pool for swimming. According to Peg, as the man of JPeg Ranch, the gods have ordained it is my duty. Peg has already cleared the disposal with the Health Department and the Department of Defense. Thanks for your concern; would you like to join me?”

“Gee, I would but I told my sister, Judy, I would help her with her racoon problem. But feel free to call me any other time.”

In past years Peg has just bypassed my reluctant involvement in removing the winter’s accumulation of dead organisms, crop dust, and floating debris. However, Peg thoughtlessly fell off the ladder when she started to clean it last week and re-injured the knee she broke skiing 22 years ago. She claims it hurts and Dr. Matthew Lee took her side and ordered her on bed rest for two weeks. To make matters worse, Dr. Lee then sent her to an orthopedic surgeon who agreed.

I gently reminded her she had skied on down a huge mountain in Utah when she broke her leg and maybe she could just ignore the medical profession’s opinion and the pain. I cannot repeat her response due once again to that family newspaper thing.

Anyway, my weekend was filled with two days of shop vacs, mops, Clorox, white vinegar, long handled brooms and water hoses. It was so gay to watch globs of unidentified multi-colored crude having the consistency and smell of the contents of used diapers ooze off the plastic floor through the vacuum, into the bucket then hoisted over the pool wall into the yard. My guess is every varmint within miles will think a grand smorgasbord has been laid out for them. Of course, the grass immediately began to wither and turn yellow.

Well, Gentle Reader, I know Peg’s injury and its unfortunate consequences may concern you, but, do not worry, I’ll be alright.