Hayter's first article Aug 21, 1980

Hayter’s article for Aug 14, 2022?”  

"Tubing or not Tubing"

          I enjoy looking over the old issues of the Courier “Trends” section of Sunday’s paper. If you turn the page you’ll likely see what I’m talking about. I’d suggest you’d do it now, but I fear you’ll forget to come back.

 The pages and the print in the older issues were larger than the current newspaper, so the only way the old articles will fit on a page is to shrink them. I don’t care to go back in time to read the old newspapers, but I do enjoy short visits.  Last week, I saw a picture of Barbara Fredricksen, a young, editor/columnist who accepted the first article I ever wrote. The title was “Tubing or not tubing?” She put it on Page One of the “Sunday Plus” section. 

I was blown away. The format of “Sunday Plus” was that of a magazine published on newsprint, like the old “Zest” Section of the Chronicle. On the front page of July 6, 1980’s Sunday Plus section was a photo of me sprawled out on an inner-tube, beneath the San Jacinto River Bridge over I-45. The bridge has been widened, heightened, and sturdified so much since 1980. – Beg pardon?  “Sturdified?” Oh, yeah, it’s a real word. My dad used it off and on. I don’t know the origin of “off and on”, though.

After the tubing article went to print, I imagined that I was now a full-fledged columnist. No one asked me. So I kept writing and submitting. Barbara Fredricksen accepted the five other articles I submitted. After she received the first of the five, she asked to see me. When I came to her office, she showed me some mistakes I’d made. She pulled my copy off her desk and it had corrections galore. Fredricksen was even more generous with her red ink than my senior English teacher. 

My article was an opinion piece about teachers needing a raise. The piece made it into the paper, and I thought it was very well written.     

On January 5, 1981, I was a full-fledged columnist for the Courier. I was the Monday columnist. It was the best of things, it was the worst of things. It meant that I had to come up with something to write every week. Back then I had to hand write an article and then type it out.  I never thought of actually typing it out first. Typewriters were unforgiving. 

I usually finished by three a.m. on the day of my deadline. Then I’d drive to the post office to make a copy, and then drive to the Courier and put it in the mail slot. Then I’d come home, get in bed and end up in my classroom at six. Those were the worst of days. 

I never managed to come up with a topic, until the day before my deadline. I never could trust an article written a day ahead of time. I’ve been crazy like that ever since. Lynn Ashby and Leon Hale used to write at least four articles week. It was their job. And, they were better men than me. (Fredricksen would require “I” over me in that sentence. While I know that “I” is proper, it just messes up the sentence for me. Barbara eventually accepted my quirks. There are a bunch. 

What made me think of Barbara Fredricksen was the fact that I saw her column in last week’s Trends section. It was on the front page of the August 12, 1977 Conroe Courier. It was in the historical section of Trends. 

When I saw the picture of the young lady who was my first newspaper boss, I got the chills. Got something. Without Fredricksen’s help, my writing career would’ve ended with an article about tubing. I take rejection much harder than is healthy. If Barbara had not given me so much encouragement, I would’ve given up. 

Let me read you the note that woman put on my first check-stub. “Mark, I have two feelings toward your column. 1) Envy at the style and wit you show. 2) Joy that we have your column on our pages.” -- Besides, Kay, you’re the first I ever shared this with. 

Had it not been for Barbara’s acceptance I doubt I ever would’ve tried to write. And, without the urging of my best friend Virginia Pliler I wouldn’t have thought of writing about the Hayter and Pliler’s wild and crazy tubing excursion near New Braunsfels. It was Virginia’s idea that I write about the trip and submit it to the Courier. 

Virginia stayed on my case, until I wrote the thing. That’s the reason I wrote it. And a friend of mine, Diane Blake, helped me along the way. Diane worked at the Courier as a reporter and a Jane-of-all-trades. She helped me so much along the way.

          Of course, Kay has been a rock through it all. She put up with a lot during the days I wrote through the night. And the many times I climbed on the roof at all hours. hoping to come up with an idea.

          The message I see out of this story is that there are people in my life and yours who have done something to help move us along life’s path. Good or bad, we’re a part of what we know and who we’ve known. And each of us has encouraged others and discouraged some along their life’s paths. It can be difficult to know the right time to encourage or discourage someone’s idea. I have family members and friends who have discouraged me away from some ideas that weren’t well thought out.

          Yes we’ve each had help from and have offered help to some. Seldom are either of us privy to particular things in this world that helped others. Fortunately, God has helped me keep in mind the names of others who helped me on my journey to today. People like Barbara Fredricksen and the others I have mentioned here and many whom I’ve written about over the years.

I wish God would open my eyes to the many people whose help I never noticed. I imagine you could say the same. It’s a mystery that each of us share.

end

hayter.mark@gmail.com

August Family Newsletter Aug 27

 

Aug 27, 2020 article

 

 August Family Newsletter 

I’ve made no secret of the fact that I’m not a fan of August. It’s the month of my birthday, but I don’t give a rat’s rump. It’s known for heat. drought and the start of school. Being a retired teacher, the start of school thing doesn’t bother me any more. 

If I could, I would spend next August in Yellowknife, Canada. Kay told me that I couldn't go without her. That was never in my thoughts. By the way, Kay was also born in August. She’s two weeks older than I am and looks a decade younger. 

Scientists tell us that August will continue to get hotter until the Ice Age of 20,015 CE. I made up the 20,015 projection, but scientists tell us that the planet’s temperature will continue to rise. This morning a political columnist wrote that Democrats are the only ones who trust in science. Now that’s a matter of concern for everyone. 

Beg pardon? Oh, 20,015 CE? What used to be AD is being changed because billions of people in non-Christian nations don’t approve of BC and AD. So their calendars start in a year of their own preferable historical event. 

In this era of the speed of light communications, it has become difficult to set deadlines and such with non-BC/AD nations, so proposals were made. “BC” (Before Christ) was changed to  “BCE” (Before Common Era). “AD” (Anno Domini – Latin for “in the year of our Lord”) changed to “CE” (Common Era). In other words, most people have accepted a compromise. Some Muslims and Asians have even accepted the idea. The ones who care to deal with the Western World.

Americans are still working on it. Religiously speaking, it can be a can of worms. I have every confidence that elections will be won or lost based on candidates' acceptance of CE over AD. It’s likely one of those “Do you wanna go to Heaven or Hell?” issues. I haven’t seen the issue mentioned in the Bible. It might be hidden in Revelations. You can hide a bunch of weird stuff in that book. 

Do you see what August does to me? It makes me write about controversial stuff. I think I need to read “The Sermon on the Mount” after this. Right now, I feel my only recourse is to use the rest of my space to come up with something good about August. I’ve got just the thing. It’s in the August 1989 issue of “Our Family Newsletter” composed, written, and printed by my little sister Jill. 

In the bottom drawer of my file cabinet, there are about 250 issues of “Our Family Newsletter”. They go from 1989 through 1999. It was a time when our family was the closest. That’s hard to tell, though, because in 2000 Jill shut down the press. Or, perhaps Y2K melted her printer. 

So, I’m going to select Jill’s family news stories from August 1989. I’ll start with a story about the Hayter brothers. Jill wrote, “Mom said that her four boys came by her house last Monday after playing golf. They cooled off in the pool. Mom said she was so happy that they came by. She also told me that Larry had the best score, then Mark, then Alan, then Dennis.” 

Did you catch that? I finished second! I have no memory of finishing anywhere higher than last in our yearly golf tournament. Yet, there it is in print! -- Take that you losers! -- Not you Larry. You’re the best… or you cheat better than the rest of us. We weren’t above kicking a ball out of the rough or claiming a ball that wasn’t ours. But forget that. I won second! 

By the way, Mom’s pool was one of those round, above-ground things, about four feet high. We never dived off the deck, but we got on each other's shoulders and made big splashes.

Here’s an article by Jill where she hammers Child Psychologists for telling parents that their kids should not be allowed to spend so much time on Nintendo. Jill has two boys. In ’89 they were probably seven and nine.

Anyway, Jill writes to a particular psychologist whose child-rearing suggestions chapped her buns. Jill wrote, “You have no idea how hard my son made my life before I caved in and bought him a Nintendo. Of course, me caving in was his intention all along, but forget that! We’re talking about a child’s happiness, here.

“You wanna know the benefits? Try this on for size. 1) Nintendo lets a child win a game against his Father, thus making him look like a total Goober.  2) Nintendo strengthens the community. – I got a phone call last evening from my neighbor Linda, whose voice was breathless with urgency. She said, ‘Is Robby there? We just got Gunsmoke (a Nintendo Game), and we can’t get past the horse!’ 3) A child who is playing Nintendo is a child who is probably not burping as loud as he can.” My kid sister always tells it like it is.

In this August issue, she included a letter that Daddy wrote her in 1972 while she was visiting our sister Susan whose husband was stationed in The Philippines. I’ll bet it’s the only letter salvaged from my Dad. 

Jill needed a letter from Daddy. He always seemed to dote on his sons more than his daughters. The man was an only son whose mother left home when he was a youngster. He was brought up by his dad and aunt Mary. You would’ve loved Aunt Mary. 

Anyway, Dad didn’t know much about family, but his letter to Jill was so sweet. He ended it with –"All my love – except what I have for your Mom. Dad.” I called the man “Daddy” up until the time I graduated from college. It just seemed right.

After all of this, I still don’t like August. But I do feel better than at the beginning of this piece. Family can do that to you. If you let ‘em. 

end

hayter.mark@gmail.com

SOS Aug 14, 2022

 

 SOS

          At this very moment, something is happening in this house that hasn’t happened since we moved in. You guessed it, the refrigerator is being cleaned. Right now, I would be helping Kay with that task, but this is when I always spend my time with you.

          The sad thing is, I’m the one who suggested to Kay that the refrigerator needed looked into. It just didn’t smell right, and that’s what I told her. I’ll never forget what she said. -- “Yeah? Well, you need to look into that.”

          She missed the whole point. Fortunately, today she noticed the smell herself. My senses are much more acute that hers. Then, the girl asked me to help her clean the refrigerator. That’s when I mentioned my article. My deadline is upon me. So, I told Kay to get started and I’d help her when I’m finished.   

          I wasn’t lying about my deadline. It’s creeping up on me, all right, and if I don’t start now, I may forget my topic. It happens. But, now I’m going to tell you some eerie fascinating stuff. – Beg pardon? “Eerie Fascinating?” Oh, my big brother Dennis and I here the description while listening to a recorded comedy routine delivered by the funniest person God ever introduced to the planet. Jonathon Winters.

Winters was impersonating an old school principal who was about to introduce the high school Homecoming Queen. The man said, “And now (pause) how? And, now (pause) where? And now it’s time to introduce the Homecoming Queen – Gwenelda Thurmer!” Winters described the principal’s delivery as being “eerie fascinating”. Dennis and I are the only two people on the globe who remember that. And, I’m not sure about Dennis.

Excuse me a second. I need to take a peek to see how Kay’s doing. –  Good grief! She’s doing it all wrong! She took everything out of the fridge and set it all atop the countertops. Why don’t you make a bad job worse? I didn’t say that, because she would’ve hit me with the nearest object to her.  She was standing close to the gallon jar of pickles. I could probably outrun a giant jar of pickles, but why chance it? 

So, where was I? -- Right. My eerie fascinating topic. It’s “SOS”. This morning I read that SOS doesn’t stand for “Save our Ship”. It stands for “S O S”. That’d be three dots, three dashes, and three more dots. I think. Originally, Marconi, the guy who invented the wireless telegraph, suggested the international “Alert!” signal be CQD. The “D” stood for Distress, but the CQ? It was designated as the “General Call”. General Call Distress? There’s no “G” in CQD. And there’s no “Q” in General Call Distress! Some said it stood for “Come Quick Distress”. It didn’t but it sure beats “General Call”. 

In 1904, a group in Germany wisely suggested “SOS” be the distress call. It’s quick and easy. CQD requires a few more random dots and dashes, and after you read it, you have to remember what it stands for. SOS? It’s easy to telegraphy and you can make it sound like Save our Ships if you want.

The British didn’t care much for Germany’s idea of SOS. In 1912,  the Titanic sent the CQD alert code. After 1912, Britain accepted “SOS” as did most other countries. 

A telegrapher had to be the toughest job around. It’s another one of those two symbol vocabularies, so to get two symbols to translate into a language of 26 letters, You’re going to have a lot of dots and dashes for a single word. Plus, you need to remember the signals for a period, comma, question mark, numbers, Deuteronomy--  What? Did I? Well, forget the Deuteronomy. It’s a long read, anyway. 

Before I completely leave the SOS topic, I’m going to tell you something that could one day save your life. If you ever get shipwrecked or “planecrashed” on the proverbial Desert Island, which is short for “Deserted Island”, you’re going to want to draw a signal in the sand. Or perhaps use rocks. Whatever. It’s imperative that you not print out “Help!” Go with “SOS”.

Everyone from almost every country knows what SOS means. But, “Help”? Non-English speakers may not catch on to the significance. And if the airplane is headed north instead of south the pilot might see the word as “dleH” and think it’s a gathering of Celtic campers. If I saved just one of you, it was worth it. 

You might’ve guessed that Morse code is not used a great deal today. And “SOS” is possibly mentioned only by old teachers in high school history classes,. And, Marconi? He’s merely the answer on a history test. 

Excuse me a second. – Sorry. That was more than a second. The refrigerator door was shut, but the food was still sitting out on the cabinets. I thought it necessary to ask Kay if she forgot to re-load the fridge. She explained that she kept the door opened too long, causing a safety device to turn off the fridge. She was patiently waiting for the thing to get really cold so she could put the food back. Ah. That’s what I said. “Ah.” 

Right now, it seems wise that I return to the kitchen to help load the fridge. Afterwards, I’ll suggest to Kay that we take care of the freezer a week from today. Get it? Hopefully, she won’t either.  

end

hayter.mark@gmail.com