I've no more grandparents, but I've some extremely dirty limericks....

My grandmother passed away today (more on this in another post), 12 years and one day following my grandfather. We have spent the day going through her photos, letters and the bits of ephemera that swirl around you after 94 years. It has been, pleasingly, great fun...reveling in her life (and that of my grandfather's) rather than mourning. Best of all, we found some things that she more or less hid to protect us.

For example, my grandfather was born and raised in Belfast, Ireland and had a quick and rollicking wit (among his many talents). Certain people, however, brought out his wicked streak and he their one. One such lifelong miscreant was Tommy Panzera. The two of them fed of each other's antic personalities and the results are the stuff of family myth and legend. We found a letter that Tommy wrote the Granddaddy in 1938. Greenie had hidden it in a dark, back corner as it is full of wildly dirty limericks. Quoting in part [N.B. seriously dirty words, etc. following...you are warned]:

Whereupon I explained that my best pal is a goddam Irishman and therefore there is no foolin' around. He retaliated or reiterated (I forget which) and gave me the following:

There was a young Chinese named Rhoda

Who kept an immoral Pagoda;

Festooned on the walls

Of the halls were the balls

And the tools of the fools who bestrode her.

Meantime his pal was thinking hard and having thunk sprang this one upon us (the dirty slob):

There was a young man of Bombay

Who modeled a cunt out of clay;

But the heat of his prick

Turned the clay into brick

And wore all his foreskin away.

Followed almost immediately by the young man from Thermopylae,

Who found he couldn't pee properly

He said, "Pax vobiscum

Why the hell won't my piss come?

My semen must have a Monopoly."

In my life, I heard my grandmother swear *once* that I can remember (she said, "Damn it" when scolding "the men" at a dinner). She and Granddaddy were so wonderful together. It has been great fun to laugh as much as we have today...

Finding Lobster in a Blizzard, or The Continuing Story of Why I Love Maine:

Today is T2's birthday and the joint party for both boys. The main(e) course of the dinner was to be lobster. This is usually not a problem, as there are a couple of places here on the Tenants Harbor peninsula that are open pretty much all the time (read, even Sundays). This Sunday, however, we have had at least 6 hours of steady, near white out snow...and it has been cold enough for the last 4-5 days that very few of the lobsterman have been going out.

Dad and I set out, four-wheel drive equipped and driving slowly, only to discover that all 4 places that we "counted on" were closed. I called a local disty who told me that he hadn't had anyone bring in lobster for the last few days due to the cold. Things were looking bleak.

As we stood in the General Store, pondering what we would do instead of lobster (e.g. clam spaghetti, scampi or the like), Bill I. pulled in with his plow to get a cup of coffee. The sales clerk asked him if he knew anywhere we might find lobster today and he said, "Sure, me." He warned us that we would have to be willing to pay "blizzard prices" for it and we agreed. Though we offered to follow him to the pier, he said he had to come back for his coffee, and we should just wait. He returned, 10 minutes later with 10 lobsters that had been in the harbor moments before...he charged us $4/pound.

The boys are writing him thank you letters. I love living in Maine.

The Bodleian Bans Stepladders...

From the "I really hope this is a joke" file: Due to safety concerns, Oxford has banned stepladders at the Bodleian Library. This, while relatively silly on its face, is made truly bizarre with the apparent decision "refusing to move the books from their 'original historic location'". 

As a result, much of what is out of reach is...well...out of reach. Students are, according to the article, being forced to go elsewhere to secure working copies.

Stepladders have been in use at the Bodleian for the last 400 years or so...any statistics on injuries and, dare I say it, deaths???