“People who say they sleep like a baby usually don’t have one.”- Leo J. Burke

“People who say they sleep like a baby usually don’t have one, or a dog, or itchy dry skin.” - Jeff Brown

Let me Sleep!

My wife and I crawled into bed and I turned out the lamp.

Whump!

A sharp jab to my groin followed by heavy breathing in my ear told me someone wanted to play. It wasn’t my wife.

“Arlo,” I moaned, “I’m not in the mood.”

Our 23 pound mutt dropped a furry toy on my face. It was damp. (When I say the toy was damp, I mean every fiber down to the molecular level was super saturated with dog spit atoms.) I grabbed it with my fingertips and tossed it towards my feet. This was rewarded by another sharp jab to my groin as he gleefully lunged after it.

I rolled into the fetal position.

Interesting fact: I do nearly all my sleeping these days in the fetal position, with Vickie behind me and Arlo wedged tightly between us.

As I tried to get comfortable, I could feel him slowly working his way back up to the head of the bed. Then he tugged at the covers.

“Do you want to get under the blankets, boy?” asked Vickie. She lifted them, giving him even more access to my sensitive body regions.

I could feel his furry body brush against my legs as he slowly worked his way down deep undercover.

Scratch, scratch, scratch.

I turned toward Vickie. “What the heck is he doing now?”

“He’s trying to get comfortable.”

Scratch, scratch, scratch.

Arlo can be a very fidgety and annoying creature, especially when I’m trying to go to sleep.

A few minutes later he pushed his paws firmly into my backside (his normal sleep position) and settled down. I sighed deeply.

I seem to have a harder time going to sleep than my wife does. I need everything to be perfect. (When I say perfect, I mean I find it difficult to drift off while Arlo is chewing his bright orange “bow chica bow wow” squeaky toy mere millimeters from my eardrum.)

Another interesting fact: Arlo’s toy really does have the phrase “bow chica bow wow” emblazoned on the side of it.

My pillow needs to be in the right position so I don’t wake up with a sore neck in the morning. I scooted it parallel to my body and flipped it to its cool side. Ah, that felt better, but I was still uncomfortably warm. I reached down and slipped my socks off. Then I dropped them on the floor near my slippers.

Bad idea.

I couldn’t leave my socks and slippers there. Arlo would find them in the night and chew them into more manageable, bite-sized pieces. I leaned off the bed and hid them under some old magazines.

My nose itched, so I scratched it vigorously, but that set off a chain reaction of itches all over my body. I writhed around for a few moments until I got them all. It seems like I always get itchy dry skin this time of year. Maybe I need to start using moisturizer.

Finally, I was perfectly comfortable. Yes, time for sweet slumber– except for that pressure growing inside my thimble-sized bladder. Oh good grief.

I grabbed my glasses, got out of bed, and headed down the hall. When I got back, I lifted the covers and carefully worked my way back into bed. Then I flipped my pillow. I scratched my nose.

Arlo sighed deeply.

“It’s okay, boy.” said Vickie. “Jeff is just trying to get comfortable.”

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Recently I had the opportunity to visit with a life-long Belle Plaine resident.  I have to say that I thoroughly enjoyed myself.  Joe Malecek is a wonderful representative of our community.  He exemplifies who Belle Plaine people are.  He is hardworking, kind, gentle-hearted, and devoted to his family.

Joe and his wife, Leona, raised their seven children on the family’s farm located just north of the golf course. Joe grew up on that farm as well.  As a child, it was just Joe and his mom.  His dad passed away from a flu epidemic three weeks before Joe was born in 1918.

Joe is so proud of his children.  When he speaks of them, his eyes seem to twinkle.  He proudly told me that all seven of his children went on to receive a higher education after graduating from Belle Plaine High School.

With Christmas time fast approaching and Joe and I sitting amongst Christmas decorations in his daughter’s floral shop, I asked Joe what his favorite Belle Plaine Christmas memory was.

Joe didn’t have to think very long before he started his story.  Joe’s memory was of 1935 and one of the hardest winters in history.  He was 16 years old and had walked to town to get a hair cut on Christmas Eve day.  After his hair cut, he walked back to the farm and did chores and waited to walk back into town to attend Midnight Mass.  The weather was fair when he started out for the Midnight Mass, and Joe just threw on a light leather jacket to attend the service.  There was a huge crowd at Mass that Christmas Eve.  Off and on during the service, Joe thought he heard a whoosh, whoosh sound, but the church was so crowded that night that he couldn’t be sure what, if anything, he was hearing.  When the service was over and the doors where opened, the congregation was faced with huge amounts of snow falling from the sky.  Not only was the white stuff falling, it was BLOWING!  Here was poor, 16-year-old Joe, in a light leather jacket and no snow boots!  He walked all the way home after mass that evening, and by the time he made it to the house he couldn’t feel his feet.  He was so cold that he planted himself in front of the wood burning stove in the living room and didn’t move from that spot for hours.

It is so in keeping with Joe’s positive personality that he can smile about having to walk home in a blizzard during the dark morning hours of Christmas Day!

I wish Joe, Leona, and their family the best of Christmas memories this year.  May peace and good health grace you on this most precious holiday.

Master of None
by
Jeff M. Brown

“Family means no one gets left behind or forgotten.” - David Ogden Stiers

“Family means no one gets left behind or forgotten, but someone might have to make do on the couch.” - Jeff Brown

Jeff Who?

I slept on the couch last night. Now, before you go jumping to any conclusions, the wife and I are getting along just fine, thank you. So don’t start any rumors.

The skirmish which led to my rather uncomfortable trip to dreamland was between our dog and one of the cats. Although I was only semi-conscious at the time, (2:00 AM, to be exact) I’ve carefully reconstructed the argument for you here in this transcript:

Lacy: (Jumps on the headboard.)

Arlo: (Jumps on Jeff’s face.) Bark, bark, bark.

Lacy: Hissssss.

Jeff’s Face: Knock it off you guys!

If you’re wondering how a spat between the dog and cat would lead to innocent little ol’ me having to sleep on the lumpy sofa cushions, so was I. So I asked my wife this morning as I rubbed my achy lower back, “How come disagreements between the dog and cat always end up with innocent little ol’ me having to sleep on the lumpy sofa cushions?”

“Because Lacy will follow you,” she replied matter-of-factly. “If I move to the couch, Lacy and the dog will follow me. They’ll continue antagonizing each other and I won’t get any sleep.”

It’s true. If I’m the one who takes the bullet, falls on his sword, commits the selfless act of mercy, and sleeps on the couch, Lacy, my sweet loyal Lacy, will actually follow me. She’ll then spend the rest of the night in exile by my side or on my stomach (whichever she prefers).

Arlo, however, won’t follow me. He’ll stay in bed with my wife. This arrangement, according to her, allows all four of us (if you count me, the one on the lumpy couch) to get some sleep. If Vickie were to move to the couch, the only one to get any sleep would be me, all alone in the bedroom, with the whole bed to myself.

And we certainly couldn’t have that.

I consider Arlo to be a fair-weather friend. You know the type. He reminds me of one of those friends from high school that would only talk to me until someone better-looking, smarter, or, let’s face it, cooler than me came around.

Cool Kid: Gag me with a spoon. I can’t believe you actually talk to that Jeff guy.

Arlo: Well, (stammers nervously) he sits in front of me in biology class and sometimes he lets me copy his homework.

Cool Kid: (Stares incredulously.)

Arlo: And Bacon. Sometimes he gives me bacon.

Yes, it appears I’m perfectly fine to hang out with, perfectly fine until my wife gets home, then it’s, “Jeff who?”

Of course, this makes me feel bad. I mean, what am I? Chopped liver? (Okay, I realize that I’m talking about a dog here and he would love chopped liver as much as he loves bacon, but I’m too lazy to come up with a better cliché. Besides, I don’t really think there’s a better one because he’ll eat anything. Well, except his dry dog food. Okay, that’ll work.)

What am I? Dry dog food?

Lacy, however, reminds me of the cool popular girl in high school that would talk to everyone, even the nerdy folks like me. Ahh, I have a crush on my sweet Lacy.

What does all this mean? I’ll tell you what it means: I’d better get used to sleeping on the couch when the animals are misbehaving.

I suppose I’ll eventually get used to this arrangement, but it’s not fair because in the event that my wife and I do have an argument (we’re getting along just fine, thank you) we all know who’s going to be in the dog house sleeping on the couch.

Innocent little ol’ me.

For more columns visit www.jeffmasterofnone.com

Recently I was looking through the Iowa Trivia book (Janice B. Stock, Alan Beck, & Ken Beck) and read an entry about a ghostwriter for the extremely popular Nancy Drew Mystery books who attended the University of Iowa.   At the time, I thought that was kind of interesting but didn’t give it much more thought.  Two days later, I was leafing through my October issue of Country Living magazine and came across the “Collecting” segment which was featuring Nancy Drew Mystery books and their values.  I took this as a “sign” that this could be an interesting subject for an article.  I was certainly intrigued by now and wanted to find out more about this Iowa author.  Guess what—Mildred Wirt Benson was born and raised in Ladora!

On July 9, 1905, Lillian Augustine brought Mildred (Milly) into this world with the help of Dr. J.L. Augustine (Milly’s father).   Growing up in Ladora, Benson loved to read and imagine.  At the age of 13 she published her first short story.  She spent her childhood playing outdoors, jumping rope, and making mud pies in the summers and ice-skating in Iowa’s winters.

Benson graduated from Ladora High School in June 1922 and in September of that year began her studies at the University of Iowa.  Benson earned two degrees at the University of Iowa (B.A. in English, 1925; M.A. in journalism, 1927).  She was the first person to receive a master’s degree in journalism at the U or I!  After obtaining her bachelor’s degree in 1925 and working for a year as a full-time newspaper reporter at The Iowa Press-Citizen and The Clinton Herald she headed for New York City.  An anticipated writing job failed to materialize but she did meet Edward Straterneyer of East Orange, New Jersey, head of the Straterneyer Syndicate and author of numerous series books, including the “Rover Boys”.  When things did not go as planned in New York, Millie found herself back in Ladora, Iowa, and attending the U of I again to get her Masters Degree.   While at home, she received a letter from Mr. Straterneyer offering her an opportunity to continue the Ruth Fielding book series.  She wrote this full-length book at her parents’ home while also working on her thesis.

Next the chance came to take on a new series, “Nancy Drew”.  This series stayed in the popular market for more than 40 year.  Benson wrote the Nancy books through the first twenty-five, with her last one being The Ghost of Blackwood Hall in 1948. She wrote the Nancy books under the name Carolyn Keene.

Nancy was not the stereotypical heroine of the time. She personified the dream image which exists within most teenagers.  When Straterneyer received Benson’s first manuscript, he was disappointed with it saying the heroine (Nancy) was much too flip and would never be well received.  The Secret of the Old Clock and the following two volumes hit the market and were an immediate cash-register success for the syndicate.  As “ghost” Benson received $125 to $250 a story with all rights released.

In 1928 Milly married journalist and former classmate Asa Wirt who worked for the Associated Press and proceeded to give birth to a daughter, Margaret (Peggy) in 1936. Benton and her husband relocated to Cleveland, Ohio, and then on to Toledo, Ohio.  After the passing of Wirt in June of 1947, Milly married The Toledo Times newspaper editor George Benson in 1950.  Benson passed away in 1959 and Millie lived and worked for another 43 years after his death.

From the 1960s until shortly before her death in 2002, Milly fed her interest in aviation.  She started flying lesson at age 59 and earned advanced ratings, eventually earning a commercial pilot’s license.  Her interests in flying may have been the result of a brief ride taken as a child with a Cedar Rapids pilot who barnstormed Iowa towns in an old jenny.

During her lifetime she wrote extensively as Mildred A. Wirt and published a few books as Mildred Benson.  In addition to many pen names owned by the syndicate, she used at least five of her own, including Don Palmer, Dorothy West, Ann Wirt, Joan Clark, and Frank Bell.  Usually pen names were selected by the publisher, who wished to avoid filling the market with too many books by one author.  In Benson’s most prolific year she wrote 13 full-length volumes for one publisher using various pen names.  Benson wrote 135 children’s books along with almost 100 short stories throughout her lifetime.

If you happen to be lucky enough to own an original edition of Benson’s first Nancy Drew book, it can bring $5,000 in mint condition. If she happened to sign the edition, her autograph doubles the value to $10,000 (Country Living, October 2011 issue).

I hope you find Milly’s story interesting.  If you know of any interesting people, past or present, let me know.  I try to find different bits of information to hopefully hit on many peoples interests.

With Veteran Day fast approaching, I thought a reminder about flag etiquette was appropriate.  I know when I see people at the sporting events who don’t stop what they are doing to show respect for the flag while it is being raised I feel very frustrated.  My son fought for what that beautiful flag stands for.  When we don’t respect the Flag of the United States, we are not respecting the men and women who have continually protected our country.  We are not respecting ourselves as United States citizens.  Some of the disrespect, I believe, comes from not knowing what is expected and appropriate when dealing with our nation’s symbol.  We seem to have become more and more apathetic when it comes to all types of etiquette.  I feel that there is still a place and time for caring about one another and about treating those around us with respect.  The flag is not just a piece of material.  It represents so much and that is why respect must come into play.   I found the following article on the Department of Veteran’s Affairs web site.