Origins of the Moving Picture Industry

Our first California adventure was just a bit odd.  As most people know, California is the center of the motion picture industry not only in the USA, but also for most of the rest of the world.  We experienced the beginnings of the billion dollar industry Saturday night in Niles, California.   As the moving pictures captured more and more interest, the phenomena swept the country in the early 20th century, and first thousands and then millions of ordinary people spent their leisure time going to see what quickly became called 'the movies'.  The demand for product was intense since  initially each 'picture' was usually only a few minutes long could only be shown for a few days in the new movie houses before audiences would begin clamoring for different movies.

Chaplin is the second from the left on the first row.

The first moving picture camera was developed by Edison, and he zealously guarded his camera and patents to the point of sending thugs out to beat up and terrorize filmmakers to kick back a sum for just using cameras they had purchased.  Early films were made in New Jersey, New York and Chicago.  Even the very best cameras only worked with consistent quality in strong sunlight.  To escape Edison's thugs, and the winter weather of New York, New Jersey and Chicago, filmmakers began coming to sunny California.  Niles, California was the new home of Essanay Films out of Chicago.    (Essanay, the film company, which set up to make movies in Niles, was owned by a man named Shor and Broncho Billy Anderson - the first initials of their last names are how they named their film company.) Their first year in California, one of their feature players was a young Englishman straight from vaudeville called Charlie Chaplin.  They paid him $125 a week; a pretty good salary in 1914.  By 1915 he was so popular, he could command $500 a week.   The Tramp, one of his most famous films, was made his first year in Niles.  Five years after this beginning, Chaplin was able to write, direct, and star in his own films, and he made more than $500,000 pre-income tax dollars each year.  He was truly the movies first superstar.

In the background of the above picture is the building which today is the  Niles Silent Movie Theater,. This is a non-profit enterprise which shows two hours of silent films every Saturday night.  For $5.00 a ticket plus $1.00 snacks, you can sit on original hard wooden theater chairs, listen to a live piano

player, and watch cutting edge entertainment circa 1914.  This evening was interesting on several levels.  First, I've only seen a very limited number of silent movies on the 'big screen'.  Second, this was the kick-off to 'Chaplin Week' by this struggling non-profit which is valiantly trying to put their organization, their theater, and their projects into the 'big time' of film restoration and reclamation.  Third, this was film presentation interspersed with commentary by a silent film historian.  As Sarah quipped, it was just like TCM come to life with a Robert Osborne clone.  The film commentator was excellent, and we really enjoyed both him and the piano player who improvised her play as the films were running.  

However, it quickly became obvious the people running the organization are their own worst enemy.  The current project is to raise $30,000 to restore Chaplin's 1915 film, The Champ, made by Essanay Studios in Niles.  There were probably 200 people in attendance Saturday night, and the woman who is obviously the 'wheel' in the non-profit announced they had been given Broncho Billy Anderson's honorary Oscar.   As a fund raiser for the Chaplin film restoration, the 'wheel' carrying her TWO chihuahuas , announced, "During tonight's intermission for a $10 donation, you can have your picture taken with the Oscar.  Sarah and I looked at each other, and we both immediately thought, "Oh boy, I want to do THAT!"

Intermission comes, and we wander all over the place looking for where the pictures are being taken.  No soap.  Can't find anyone taking pictures.  I finally corralled one of the people who long-windedly insisted on giving us the history of the theater and the turn of the century film industry in Niles, prior to the start of the films, and asked,  "Where are you taking the Oscar pictures?"
"Oh, well, let's find Mike and see." (Mike was their photographer - a guy with a camera slung around his neck in a faded t-shirt and cargo shorts.)
"Mike, here's some people that want their picture taken with the Oscar."
"Bob, nobody told me in advance we were going to do this.  Let's just move some of these cameras out
of the way, and then we can get started.  I have to find a place to take the pictures."

Ten minutes later, after rearranging one of the 'rooms' of the museum, they were finally ready to take the pictures.  Turns out that I was the only person willing to ask about the pictures, and when they FINALLY started snapping the pictures, several other people formed a line and paid their $10.  That's Broncho Billy Anderson in the background behind Sarah - who was one of the first cowboy stars of the silent era.  I had no idea he actually was the owner of a film company.  That's a real Oscar.  According to Sarah, it was heavy coming in at about five or six pounds.  I guess if I had just shrugged off the picture, they wouldn't have raised a dime for their restoration from one of their biggest audiences.

It was a fun evening, but I must admit we left right after this picture was taken.  What had been billed as a two hour evening was already pushing three hours at the end of the intermission thanks to the lack of preparation of their opening remarks and their intermission fund raiser.  Plus, even with the pillows we brought, our bottoms were numb from those hard wooden chairs.

1967 Lives Again!

It all started with a blue leather recliner; actually, a two toned blue leather recliner.  Furnishing a house with cast off furniture is a challenge I take up with every new location.  It's one of my favorite things to do as we move around.  It is a treasure hunt.  This time, Drake really threw me a curve ball when he fell in love with the very first piece of furniture he saw:  a cobalt blue "Franklin" recliner.  Actually, half of it is four shades lighter.  We finally realized the reason the chair felt so wonderful to Drake was it had been re-stuffed and re-upholstered.  Little problem - the new blue leather doesn't exactly match the old blue vinyl, but....IT'S SO COMFORTABLE.  In fairness, I'm the one who spotted this $25 chair in the myriad of craiglistings, and the owner was one of the people willing to see me the first afternoon we arrived in town.

Now, I'm stuck with a cobalt blue/sky blue recliner.  Yes, sort of like those powder blue tuxes of the 1980's; such a train wreck, and you can't stop staring trying to decide if you like it or not.  When I found the blue plaid sofa, it seemed like kismet, or destiny, or let's face it, just one up-man-ship to show Drake I can rise to any occasion.  The sofa first attracted me because the Craigslist ad was written as if the sofa was talking.  A very unusual approach to be taken by a seller, and a bold one.  It enchanted me enough I kept coming back to it.  My original idea was to downplay the blue recliner by looking for a boring neutral microfiber or leather couch.   In an instance of insane reasoning, I thought I could melt the blue chair into the background by surrounding it with neutral pieces.  Yeah, in a 15 x 15 living area, that would be happening.

As I realized I needed to make the blue monster a 'feature', the more intrigued I became with the idea of creating the authentic post mid century modern look.  Now I have a living room not "from 1957 but from 1967.  It is not 'cool'; it is not 'hip', but it is comfortable and, by gum, it matches!  If you remember, matching was a hallmark of 1967 right down to the wallpaper.  Or, as Drake put it, "coordinated".  The rest of the furniture is pretty humdrum, but my California living room is a beacon of kitsch in a land of hipdom.  

Which Words are the Red Herrings?

I was hooked on smart phones after playing with Sarah's for 15 minutes.  She got the very first version as a gift from her then boyfriend's parents.  It didn't even take five minutes for me to understand what a powerful tool I was holding in my hand.  I had to wait until we hit the road before I got to have my very own.  Ironically, my new 'phone'  has a faster processor than the computer I'm currently typing on - oh, excuse me, keyboarding.  I still type and I also still listen to albums.

In addition to banking, searching, reserving, addressing, phoning, mapping, noting, tabulating, reading, listening and watching, I also play games.  I like Words with Friends (of course, I'm a retired English teacher), and I've played Word Solitaire for years - found the holiday version last Christmas.  I long ago completed through level 250.  Currently, I'm working my way up to some unknown level.  I just finished Level 319, and you have to understand after I finished 250 levels, they started counting again at "One".  I play Word Warp which is a word scramble game.  I'd like it better if the music wasn't so annoying.  Each game is timed, and there's a countdown musical theme if you haven't found the 'big' word.  You only move to the next level if you find the 'big word'.  The music makes you feel like there's a gun to your head.  Plus, I have the 16 game Solitaire Arcade, but I only play the Pyramid version.

I've found two new games which I really like.  They're both by the same company.  Seven Little Words which is fun, and a lot like answering crossword puzzle clues.  In each game there are seven clues and seven words that answer the clues.  I'm often asking Drake questions such as, "Nine letters, means severely annoyed," when I'm playing this game.  When I was in Texas, Jim and I watched the Rangers play as well as channel flipping to the NFL Draft between innings while Patsy and I simultaneously played Seven Little Words.  So, when the company offered their new game Red Herring for free, I was disposed to try it.

Well, let me tell you, it's even more fun than Seven Little Words.  Basically, you're shown 20 words and asked to make 3 categories of five words each.  The five words of the 20 words which DON'T belong in any of the three categories are the Red Herrings.  In the latest game - the categories were Colors of the Rainbow.  Mollusks, and -paint {warpaint, wetpaint, etc.}  Sounds easy EXCEPT they don't give you the names of the categories and there are lots of words with multiple meanings (Example:  "blind" - loss of sight, window covering, camouflaged hunting?).  For each game, you can choose your difficulty level: Easy, Normal, or Hard.  Hmmm.  Wonder how many psychologists it took to come up with those designations.  I'm hooked.

What I like about this game is it uses brain cells rather than finger motion.  Games which involve joy sticks, button punching, sliding, highlighting or any type of manual dexterity, and I'm an automatic loser. For pete's sake, I have trouble with left and right in the non-electronic world.  I can remember being humiliated by eight year old Ben Tuttle at the dawn of video games.  Even earlier, "Pong" gave me trouble.  Forget Pac Man, Donkey Kong or Mario Brothers.  If you had to jump it or click on it, I could never get past Level One.  I still can't.

Ah, but Red Herring is a thinking game.  It's just difficult enough at the "Hard" level to be challenging without making me give up in frustration.  If you have AirPlay, you can project it onto your TV, and it can be a group game.  No pens, pencils, dice, cards or special seats needed.  If you're a smart phoniac, check it out.  I will be playing during the upcoming 750 mile drive.  Next stop:  VEGAS and another game - Blackjack!              

I Wonder if Manners were the Same in 1927?

I've been reading books again.  Actually, I'm always reading at least two at a time and listening to another.  Usually, they are like most movies or painting or songs, pretty forgettable.  Currently, I'm reading two winners.  Ironically, they are both non-fiction which occupies only about 15% of my reading.  The first one I'd recommend is by Bill Bryson, an interesting writer who lived in England for many years, and upon returning to the USA has become my favorite observer of American life.  His choice of observation this time is the summer of 1927 which turned out to be a pivotal one in American history.  I'll just drop two names:  Charles Lindbergh and Babe Ruth.  This book is very readable (a hallmark of a Bryson book), and chock full of interesting observations based on historical facts.

The other volume is very slim, only 170 pages, and should be a 'must read' for Generation X, Y & soon to be Z.  Truthfully, it should be a must read for EVERYONE.  It's called Modern Manners, Tools to Take You to the Top.  The authors are Dorothea Johnson, founder of the Protocol School of Washington, and etiquette guru of The Ellen DeGeneres Show and Liv Tyler, actress, whose main claim to fame is her role as Arwen, the Elf Princess and as the granddaughter of Ms. Johnson.  The emphasis of this book is the first word of the title:  Modern.  I have fairly good manners - about a "B" on the traditional scale, and I picked up this book out of curiosity.  It is lively, and something I didn't really KNOW has caught my interest in every chapter.  Here's what I'm talking about.

Do you stand up when you meet someone?    Apparently, everyone should.  Women are no longer allowed to remain seated - new equality has changed this and many other manners women should practice.  Everyone knows that you should make eye contact when you talk to someone - duh - but, how about this:  Direct eye contact should occur between 40 and 60 percent of the time you are with a person - less than 40% and you appear disinterested and rude; more than 60% and you appear intimidating or doubtful.  ( I guess the other person gets to pick which you are!)

I also discovered there's a protocol for 'introductions' especially in a business setting.  The secret:  "May I introduce to you...  Apparently, the key are the words 'to you' after the word 'introduce' reminding you to introduce the junior to the senior, the woman to the man, the younger to the elder.  They suggest practicing the 'form' until it becomes second nature.  No kidding!  "Good morning Mr. Big Cheese.  May I introduce to you Mr. Little Guy, one of your minions."  (You should always give the boss 'context' since he/she spends very little time learning who's who.)

I loved the chapter on hand shaking.  Like English, apparently, the 'American handshake' is the international standard with a few differences depending on the culture.  For instance, in Switzerland you shake hands upon arriving and upon leaving.  (Did you get that SL?)  I loved the description of the limp fingered fish handshake favored by idiot women - this book calls it "the fingerella", and it's as big of a no-no as the finger crushing handshake.  The correctly mannered handshake is 'web to web' with two pumps.

Throughout the book they cite compelling reasons for using these modern manners.  Did you know that according to research conducted by Harvard, Carnegie and Stanford getting 'ahead' depends 15% on technical ability and knowledge and 85% on people skills.  I do so love a book that understands Americans are moved by money.   Want to get your dream job?  Learn when and how to write thank you notes in the business place.  (Yes, I said thank you notes.)   Did you know you're supposed to IMMEDIATELY write a thank you note to the person who interviews you for a job as well as anyone who helped you get the interview?  This book even talks about different styles of clothing and offers pictures of each type from office attire to black tie.  I suppose the ability to 'look correct' in a business/social situation is part of modern manners.  I wonder where tattoos fit in?  They even show place settings and discuss table manners.

There's a whole chapter on cell phones.  The manners involving these little devices are, from my personal observation, the least practiced.  You're not supposed to take or return phone calls, texts, tweets, etc. when you are face to face with someone!  Imagine that.  One of my friends just flat terminated a job interview when the interviewee actually 'checked' his phone for an incoming whatever during the job interview.  Hilarious.

 I must admit I'm a huge phone user when it's just Drake and I sitting together in a restaurant.  After reading this book, I think I might have to change my ways.  The book suggested a clever way to 'break' a group of friends from obsessive cell phone behavior when they are supposed to be socializing with one another.  It's called phone stacking.  At the restaurant, everyone stacks their phones in the center of the table, first one to reach for their buzzing phone, to check on a call or text pays the entire tab for the whole party.

I've discovered there are ways to enter and leave an elevator, open a door, and sit down in a chair at a table.  I've got about 30 pages left to read, and if it's as illuminating as the first 140 pages, I'll learn some more polish.  We all agree I can certainly use some buffing up.  If you want to improve your personal sheen, pick up this little book which, so helpfully, has an index.

Milestones

April 9th was our 43rd wedding anniversary.  Drake got me the  new iphone 5s, and we went out to dinner at the only great place on this side of town.  Days like this one get me thinking about milestones in my life.  The first thing that popped into my mind was this:  Anniversaries are  a traditional milestone like birthdays or holidays.  Milestone is one of those words that has completely changed in meaning over the centuries.  Originally, it was literally a stone placed by the side of the road to mark the number of miles to reach a specific destination.  I assume the stone was marked or chiseled with the number. These stones have morphed into mile markers on the sides of our roads, and we've changed the meaning to milestone.

There's nothing interesting about a stone by the side of the road.  The milestones I'm interested in are the ones that mark significant events in a person's life.  A wedding anniversary for us is a day for reflection of our life together, and thus after more than 40 years together, we revisit many milestones on this date.  The visit is sometimes nostalgic, fond, wry, painful, or with grimace.    After 45 years together, Drake and I know some milestones can't be so easily quantified.  Sometimes the most negative milestones have positive outcomes which are hidden from view. For example, the pain in my feet has let us have health insurance, so we could retire earlier than anticipated.  I think milestones are less interesting than the outcome they trigger. There are milestones whose outcomes lasts for years.  One of the best qualities of a successful marriage is having someone to endure with as well as celebrate with as you move through these milestone outcomes.

An example of an outcome determined by a milestone is parenting.  The simple milestone is the addition of a baby being added to your life.  The result of the milestone, or outcome is parenting.  Unanticipated milestones in your life when you're young often sometimes have disastrous outcomes.  That knowledge makes parents stiff with worry over rash, impetuous teen decisions.   Our early marriage could have easily (and probably should have had) a disastrous outcome.   Children gleefully mark anticipated milestones.  "It's only ten days until I'm seven!"

Each choice made in a lifetime changes life forever.  The trip you don't take.  The job you win.  The club you don't join.  The person you meet by chance.  I can avoid the 'if only I had' mentality because of the parallel multiple universe theories in science.  Somewhere in some parallel universe I'm sitting in a totally different house, in a different city, with more children, a different husband and a completely different life because I took alternative paths throughout my life.  Every choice you make has alternatives.  That's why I love the idea of multiple universes.  Important choices needs to be reasoned.  Us control freaks don't know any other way, but I'm never paralyzed with indecision because I don't believe there's only one right choice.  My other self in each of those other universes is just as happy as she wants to be.  I think of all those other parallel realities as the ultimate in free will.

Reflection makes life worth living.  Milestones are handy hooks to kick start that process. Anniversaries are a way to engage in important thoughts with the most important person in your life.  That nice bottle of wine we had with dinner didn't hurt the process any either.    
     

Heckling

Heckling is a part of sport.  I don't particularly like it because it's negative.  You would never hear a heckler praising a player consistently throughout a game.  By definition a heckler is a person who tries to disconcert others with questions, challenges or gibes.  We had an up close and personal experience with a heckler at the Spring Training game between the Rangers and the Oakland Athletics this week.

My only other experience had been seeing and hearing a heckler on television.  Robert Szasz, a Ray's fan was so loud he was audible on the Texas Ranger television broadcasts when they visited the Tampa Bay Ray's baseball dome.  Over an eight year span, the broadcasters would put him on camera since everyone watching could hear him anyway.  I couldn't help but notice every seat around him was empty.  Szasz would pick out one opposing player to heckle whenever that player came up to bat. He was never profane, but he knew how to stick the needle in over and over.  Otherwise, he was quiet.

Most players just shrug off heckling as being part of the game, but occasionally, a player will react to a heckler.  A heckling incident outside the ballpark actually led to Alex Rios, currently the right fielder of the Rangers, being sent from Toronto to Chicago.  In 2009, during a game Rios went 0 for 5 - striking out all five times he came to the plate.  Later that evening he went to a charity event and upon leaving, rejected the request of a child asking for his autograph.  An older fan heckled him suggesting Rios should consider himself lucky anyone would even want his autograph after his performance at the ballpark that day.  Rios became incensed screaming profanity over and over at the heckler.  Even though Rios apologized the next day, the entire event was blown up, hashed over, and dissected ad nausea by the media.  Not long afterward, Rios was released on waivers to Chicago.  Of course, there was speculation that the ugly heckling incident was part of the cause.  Hecklers have been offered incentives in the form of autographs and signed merchandise by their victims to cease and desist.  They've been prominent in professional soccer and drunk, heckling fans have made some games unsafe to attend because of the fear of life threatening violence.

On Monday we went to a Spring Training game against the Oakland Athletics.  Recently, the Athletics have fielded some wonderful Cinderella teams using the "Moneyball" model to stock their teams with lower cost players who perform well enough as a team to get into the play-offs.  This model, now famous because of first the book and then the movie, is  helping teams in smaller markets with fewer cash resources to compete with market giants with plenty of cash.  The Athletics have won more than 90 games in the past couple of years. When the Texas Rangers managed to start winning that many games, they built a huge fan base who have streamed into the Ballpark at Arlington making that venue an attendance leader in the league.  Perversely, no one really goes to see the Athletics play even though they are fielding an exciting, winning team.  According to Drake, they have one of the two worst stadiums in baseball (the other being the Rays).  Not only is the Athletic stadium old, but the foul territory is so humongous, no fan is really close to the action no matter how expensive of a seat purchased. Baseball fans like to be up close and personal - one reason Spring Training games are so enjoyable.  Thus, you have to be pretty rabid to be an Athletic fan.  We ran into one of those.

 Our game started really nice with a fun family of three generations coming to their only Spring Training game sitting right in front of us.  They had flown in from Chicago with their 17 year old son to visit grandma, get out of their beastly winter weather, and to take in a Ranger game - the son's favorite team.  I had snapped pictures of them, and we were enjoying discussing Spring Training and the Rangers.  We settled in for the game, and suddenly from the row behind us and slightly to the left, a woman with a voice like a foghorn and a scream that made my ears respond as if I were too close to a jet plane engine, began to heckle - constantly.  She could have been tolerated if she had followed the traditional heckler pattern of goading one particular player as he batted, but she had her mouth spewing out idiotic comments punctuated with piercing screams (for no reason I could ever figure out) almost non-stop at every Ranger hitter as well as people on her own club.  Initially, I thought, "Well, she'll wind down after an inning or so.  She's just excited to be here."  After three innings, my patience was wearing thin, and everyone within 50 feet of her were becoming agitated.  Other fans began saying, "Can you tone it down?"  "Please stop screaming."  "You're too loud."  Drake confronted her to no avail. Others were giving her 'the glare' which she seemed to feed upon.  The more people asked her to modify her behavior, the more obnoxious she became.  She seemed defiant as well as triumphant she personally was ruining the game experience for everyone around her.

Finally, I walked to the Sun Dance volunteer manning our aisle and explained the problem.  As soon as I began to explain, another woman standing at the top of the aisle joined in.   She was standing in the concourse  unable to sit in her seat because the woman's non-stop screams were so earsplitting her ears hurt.  Within 10 minutes a stadium official came down and asked her to shut up.  Innings 5, 6, and 7 passed with only a few foghorn comments and screams; she didn't entirely quit, but she wasn't constantly screaming.  She did achieve one of her puzzling goals.  Everyone around her was on edge wondering if  she would start up again.  Then, the 8th inning arrived, and as feared, she cranked back up.  I'm sure she figured there was nothing that could be done to her at this point.  The woman from Chicago sitting in front of me actually left her seat and went to the concourse to stop herself from punching this stupid woman into next Tuesday.  Believe me, we were all thinking about it.  At the end of the game, as I was walking up the aisle, I realized she had two elementary school children with her. They both looked miserable.  At top of the aisle were two police officers.  That's how tense the situation had become.  They were there to break up a possible fight.  I can tell you it was a narrow thing they weren't needed.  I think if she had been male, there would have been fisticuffs.

It takes nerve to fly in the face of a group.  After all, humans are a herd animal.  Our social groups start with the core intimacy of our families and extend out.  The people sitting around one another at a baseball game become a social group because of the shared experience.  There's always a lot of verbal communication.  Think of the guy who yells, "Hey, Ump, get an eye exam!" when he thinks the strike should be a ball or vice versus.  People who cheer for the same team exchange points of view about players, pitches, calls, and managerial strategies.  In Spring Training there's usually some good natured, low key ribbing as well as questions about the opposing team's off season moves.  People around me ask about how a player has 'done' at the plate over the course of the game since everyone can see me keeping meticulous track of every pitch, hit, run, error and so forth in my score book.  It's social; it's what baseball junkies love, and usually pretty quiet so as to not interfere with anyone else's enjoyment of the game.  I might needle Elvis Andrus for his Abraham Lincoln beard once while he's in the batting circle, but even he's smiled at my jokes about it as the fans around me have laughed.

The Oakland heckler was a different animal.  Her goal was not enjoyment but disruption and discomfiture of the rest of the group.  The irony is she really didn't even understand baseball that well.  Her comments were repetitive, as well as inane showing very little understanding of the strategies of the game.   She actually exhorted her A's to 'score a point'.  Drake rolled his eyes on that one.  When she couldn't think of anything to say, she just screamed.  Literally.  She screamed as if she was being stabbed by a serial killer.

Since that afternoon I've thought about what could have possibly motivated her.  She seemed to have utterly convinced herself because she bought a ticket she could do anything she wanted.  She actually said to the people around her, "You can't do anything to stop me because I bought this ticket."   Hmmm.  Free speech rights are taken pretty seriously in the USA.  Yes, technically, she had the right to say anything she wanted.  However, I question her right to negate the value of the seats around her.  When does her right of free speech intersect with my right to enjoy sitting in the seat I BOUGHT?  Her performance was less about the game, and less about free speech than about her power grab in a social situation.  I've always thought people who feed on disruption or making other people uncomfortable or angry must have little control in their own lives.  Their self esteem must be so low or their daily situation so debased that these type of stunts are the only way they can exercise their free will and feel any sense of personal empowerment.

What makes this kind of situation so volatile (think of the police officers), is the increasing loss of civility, lack of cultural agreement to a set of overarching societal rules, and our sense of personal isolation.  This person was untouchable.  On that point she was right even though she really didn't know why.  Confrontations among strangers these days can easily spiral into violence.  We are only willing to challenge a disruptor when we are sure the peer group around us will give back-up.  The 'rules' we all subconsciously agree upon when we are in the herd have dwindled.  They no longer include courtesy for others.  Once upon a time the courtesy 'rule' was inflexible; now it's optional.  Finally, we have all adopted the credo 'not my problem'.  We pass the homeless person hoping they don't approach us.  We look away when a toddler is yanked around in a grocery store.  We ignore people we see who are crying.  We don't attempt to soothe anger or frustration in others.  We shrug and move away.  Thus, when 'trapped' as we all were at the Athletics game, we became the puzzled, frustrated, and finally angry victims of this lone heckler with no real options to control her.                

Lexophiles

Once an English teacher always an English teacher.  We're a fraternity, well, actually more of a sorority, and the real attraction of the profession is our love affair with words.  I've never met an English teacher who isn't entranced by language.  The worst of us can't understand why love of language isn't everyone else's obsession.  (Remember the English teacher who insisted on dissecting poetry to the point it wasn't enjoyable anymore?)  The best of us try to subtly instill the love of language.  You can decide on which end of the spectrum this blog belongs.

The best English teacher I've ever been personally acquainted with, shared these language gems with me.  I got distracted away from writing this blog by Spring Training.  (FYI to Ranger fans:  The Rangers are very frustrating to watch this spring.)  Anyway, here are some plays on words that intrigue 'lexophiles'.  I had to look this word up, so I'll save those of you as clueless as me:  Lexophile means:  A lover of words especially in word games and puzzles.  My husband and daughter are a pair of these creatures, so this condition seems entirely normal to me.  We've always been the only people I knew who would pull out reference books between bites of food at the dinner table to settle some question or look up an answer during a discussion.

These lexophiles are not people, but instead are sentences with double ententes or puns worked into them.  Apparently, each year there is a contest at http://allpoetry.com/contest/2628792-Contest-for-Lexophiles  to see who can construct the cleverest of these gems.  For your enjoyment, here are this year's submissions.  The winner in 2014 is the final one.

When fish are in schools, they sometimes take debate.

A thief who stole a calendar got twelve months.

When the smog lifts in Los Angeles, U.C.L.A.

The batteries were given out free of charge.

A dentist and a manicurist married.  They fought tooth and nail.

A will is a dead giveaway.

With her marriage, she got a new name and a dress.

A boiled egg is hard to beat.

When you've seen one shopping center, you've see a mall.

Police were called to a daycare center where a three year old was resisting a rest.

A bicycle can't stand alone; it is two tired.

When a clock is hungry, it goes back four seconds.

The guy who fell onto a upholstery machine is now fully recovered.

When she saw her first strands of gray hair, she thought she's dye.

Acupuncture is a jab well done.  That's the point of it.

Those who get too big for their pants will be exposed in the end.

These are rather like one trick ponies.  I know after I read them once, I was done with them as soon as the smile left my face.  However, I found myself much more fascinated with thinking about what kind of person writes these.  I spent about 5 minutes wondering if I could write one of these, and at the end of that brief period was unwilling to invest any more time or effort.  I suppose people who come up with these either have epiphanies or very little else to do with their time.  Then I turned to the idea of the judges - my favorite was the one about the 'egg' - I mean, really, what is the judging criteria?  Isn't the BEST one a totally subjective choice?  Finally, I realized I'd been thinking and writing about these for over an hour.  Sigh.....  The mark of the true lexophile - the person, not the sentence.