Swimming.  What a pleasure it is.  What a gift.
Motion, in immersion…. is by far, one of my favorite things to do.  If I thought past lives were possible…. which they very well may be…. I think that at some point I was a fish.  I was probably also a dog… but not in the same century.

Back to the fish.

I love to be in water.  It is probably the reason I enjoy swimming as much as I do.  I swim every night in our pool.

You see…. I absolutely long for this time of year…. when our planet turns our hemisphere toward the sun… and it becomes warm outside…..in  our Ohio.

But tonight as I swam, I figured that I wouldn’t have many more of these evenings this season.  Cooler weather is approaching.

And holy smokes… I hate to be wet AND nakers in a cool breeze.

But.  Back to the fish.  I love the way the world feels, under water.   Underneath.  The only sound of the earth at that moment… is the calm of the water.  There are no smells.  The only touch is that of the dihydrogen monoxide against my skin.  I feel free and whole in the weightlessness that water gives.

It is like floating through blue space.  The calm surrounds me.

I imagine what it might be like to swim to great depths…..like a dolphin or a whale.   But my humanness reminds me that I too, need air.  And so I surface.

And at that line…. where the water meets the air above… I am reminded of all the world holds.  The sights, and sounds, and smells…. that we don’t notice most of the time.  The good and the bad of it…..  and re-enter the world above.

The place where we live and breathe.

And so it is…. I breathe.

“Our most basic common link is that we all inhabit this planet. We all breathe the same air. We all cherish our children’s future. And we are all mortal.” – John F. Kennedy

A topic of hot discussion today…. was this.  Who on god’s green earth made the first potato chip?

As it turns out… this story is more complicated than one could ever, ever imagine.  You see…. people love their potato chips.  So this is a very serious matter.

Spite was the reason…. OR SO….. legend and lore would have it.    The tall story dates to  1853.  And…. according to the tale….  potato  chips were the innovation of guy named…. George Crum.  Apparently he was the head chef at Moon’s Lake House.  Ahhhh.. some fancy-smancy  resort in Saratoga Springs, New York.

Now.  The legend goes….. that on one fateful day….  a  customer had the absolute audacity to complain that Crum’s French fries were  “too thick and soggy” and “not salty enough.”

George Crum got mad.  So mad in fact… that the cook set out to wreak a bit of sarcastic vengeance from the kitchen.

He sliced potatoes paper-thin, fried them to a singed crisped brown, salted the living daylights out of them, and dumped them in front of the hard-to-please diner.

Well…. we all know what THAT tastes like.  The customer tried one, smiled, then helped himself to the rest of them.  (You can’t eat just one.)

Certain details argue against the vengeful cook legend. First, to the best of anyone’s
knowledge, George Crum never made the claim that he had invented the potato chip.  You see…. those assertions emerged only many years after  his death.  And Georgie was a bit of a bragger.  So if he had done it… he would have let folks know.

Second, in 1899, while Crum was still alive, his sister claimed in an interview to have  been the one who invented potato chips. Her name was Katie Speck Wicks.  The truth of history… is that she invented the chip in a bit of a culinary misfire.

Katie also worked at Moon’s  Lake House.  One day… she  was frying crullers and peeling potatoes at the same time.   Multi-tasking in the kitchen… that Katie did.   And as such….. a thin  slice of potato found its way into the frying oil for the crullers, and Katie  fished it out.   They tried it…. and liked it…. and hence…. we now have this crazy-good snack.

Yep.  A multi-tasking woman saves the day….. again.  But for years…. the bragging old dude with the hat got all the credit.

Another tasty morsel of history. Brought to you by the dip.

“There are few joys to compare with the telling of a well-told tale.”   – Charles de Lint

Today, as I was leaving her…. my Mom said…. “Write a good story tonight.”
“About what, Mom?”
“Your childhood. Write a good story about your childhood and read it to me tomorrow.”
Now, all my life, I’ve been a pretty obedient kid, I’ll tell you.  When Mom or Dad would tell me to do something, for the most part, I would hop to.  So tonight…. a story about my childhood.

There are great feelings in my heart about growing up.  I was a pretty happy kid… or so I am told… and so I remember.

I have a bunch of “pieces” of memories about my youth.  As with most kids…. I had my favorite things…..  I loved to go out and play in the neighborhood.  I loved meal time.  Amusement parks, snow days, the swimming pool, Saturday morning cartoons, Christmas… all the usual suspects.

The world always seemed like it was two ways at the same time, though.   It seemed like a big and happy place… but in the same breath… a big and scary place.   Yet.  I always felt like I could do anything.  My Mom and Dad told me so.

I was certain I would be the first girl baseball player on the Cincinnati Reds.  And my folks encouraged me to play ball.  My Mom would even put on Dad’s left-handed mitt, and toss with me in the backyard.

I was sure I would be a great swimmer, and win seven gold medals in the Olympics someday.  Just like Mark Spitz.  Again, I found support in this notion.  We went swimming a lot at the local pool.

It seems that little Polly was always coming up with great aspirations.

One year, I decided I wanted to be a horse jockey…. and win the Kentucky Derby.  Well.  That was too stinking much.  Mom sat me down in a chair, looked at  me squarely, and said…. “Honey.  a. We don’t live any where near a horse farm…. and b. Your are going to be too damn big to be a horse jockey.  Those are short little fellas that ride those things.  And you my dear…..you were born a big old walrus baby.  So get that horse jockey nonsense out of your head….. and stick with ball playing and swimming.”

Those were profound words of wisdom… I’ll tell you.

Okay… I was just jerking around about the horse jockey thing.

But the point is…. I found cultivation and assistance around every corner of my youth.  The underlying message resounded.  I was taught that with hard work and perseverance and fortitude…..  I could climb most any mountain.

More importantly….. It was always okay for me to “like” the things I liked…. when I was a youth.

I believed in all things magical. I loved to learn.  I liked rocks.
Wouldn’t you know it?  I still believe in magic, I love to learn new things, and I still… really…. really like rocks.

I will be eternally grateful to my Mom and Dad for this gift.
I may not have grown up to be famous…. or particularly triumphant at any one thing….

But I still feel like I can climb that mountain…. if I put my mind to it.  Okay…. the Cincinnati Reds and the Olympics are out…. but I still might give that horse jockey thing a go at it…..

“To accomplish great things, we must not only act, but also dream; not only plan, but also believe.” – Anatole France

It is my contention….. that dogs think, and feel, and experience emotion.  They are born as gentle spirits to this earth.

I also assert… that those people who do not hold this belief about dogs…. have never really known a dog.  (**or a cat… or horse… or whatever little four legged being has touched your life**)

I feel sad for the humans that have not had this connection.

You see.  These three dogs have changed my life.  Each one is a blessing to me.

And I feel glad for that.

“The language of friendship is not words but meanings.” – Henry David Thoreau

I am amazed and mystified by the world in which we live.  On a daily basis, I’ll tell you.  One never knows what big-dang-deal is going to come around.

So.  Today is….. in fact…… a very big day for me… as you might imagine.  Yes indeed.  On this date, in 1930, a guy named Richard did something pretty spectacular.  Richard Gurley Drew invented Scotch Tape.    I LOVE Scotch Tape.  It is…. by far….. my Go-To Adhesive.  I like this stuff way more than Duck Tape, Super Glue…. or even flour and water.  I think it is superior… in that….. it is stealthy.

Yet. What’s the grand fuss about this invention?  Well… …. simply enough….. it didn’t exist before Mr. Drew came along. In fact…. it makes me wonder how folks got along before 1930.  Honest to goodness.

Richard Gurley Drew was born on June 22, 1899 , in Minneapolis.  He grew up in that cold, cold state.  Long winters give you time to think, I guess.  And.  He was inventive guy is whole life.

As a kid, he put the peanut butter and jelly on the outside of the sandwich, instead of inside.  Not his best invention, but as you can see… he was really thinking outside the breadbox as a child.  He liked the way things felt when they stuck to his hands.  Hence, the transposed and inverted sandwich.

So.  He grew up to be an inventor.  He worked for a couple of biggies….. Johnson & Johnson… and also 3M.  It was at 3M where he got his sticky-inventions start.

It happens that when Drew joined 3M in St. Paul, Minnesota in 1920, it was a very modest manufacturer of sandpaper.   Fine.  Medium.  Rough.

While testing their new Wet-or-dry sandpaper at auto shops….  Drew was intrigued to learn about the two-tone auto paint-jobs  that were becoming so popular in the Roaring Twenties…. on cars.  These jobs were difficult to manage….. you know.  That age old problem of keeping that clean straight line at the border between the two colors.

In response, after two years of work in 3M’s labs, Drew invented the first masking tape (1922).  Yowza.    Now the first runs of this tape didn’t work out that great.  In fact…  it fell off the cars and the frustrated auto painters.   They snarled at Drew, “By God Man.  Take this tape back to those Scotch bosses of yours and tell them to shove it!”  (By “Scotch,” he meant “parsimonious”.)

The nickname would end up “sticking”……  both to Drew’s improved masking tape, and to his 1930 invention, Scotch Brand cellulose tape.

It was because of his tape-inventiveness, that 3M could continue to flourish through the Great Depression.

I looked him up in census records.  Found him in 1940 up in Minnesota.  Looks like he married a nice gal named Corna.  They had a boy Donald in 1939.  And what inventor household would be complete, without a maid named Rosa Schwegel, also born in Minnesota.

Drew’s occupation is listed as Superintendent of Tape.

I like that.
In fact…. I think I am going to change my occupation title to Superintendent of  Tape.

You see…. tape has a way of bringing things together.
It is a good feeling…… when things come together.
And…. that’s my story…. and I’m sticking to it.

“We all have to live together, so we might as well live together happily.” – Dalai Lama

Early this morning… a leaf dropped on my head.  I wasn’t even standing near a tree.  I knew today would be different.

Oh. But wait.  Every single day is different.
It would be pretty boring otherwise.  Some days are good, others are bad.  Heck…. somedays are a combination of both.

I had some really miserable moments today…. and some completely joyous moments…. and a bit of everything in between.  I am glad for it really.

You just never know what to expect.

A great thing on this day…. was a little time spent looking closely at nature.  It made me consider that which is both very small and very infinite.  Both are significant.

It was a day filled with full.

Another  for-instance…..  I had to good fortune to swim in our pool with great friends of ours.  It was fun.

About an hour later…. I had the misfortune of swimming in our Koi Pond, with our Koi Fish.  It was unexpected.   And cold.

You see… I fell in.

Now imagine my surprise when I took one misstep and fell in over my head.

Now…. imagine the surprise of the fish.

And so… it goes and goes.  Each day different.  With perspectives on every side of every occurrence.  That is how  our world goes around.  Sometimes we are on solid ground… and the next minute… we fall  in to the cold stinky water.

It was different, I”ll tell you.  Way different.

“You have to take risks. We will only understand the miracle of life fully when we allow the unexpected to happen.” – Paul Coelho

Hey…. well… if it isn’t Jimmy the Squirrel?  How are you Jim?

Is that you Don?  Great to see you…. you old Duck you!  How are your nephews?

Oh… they are good.  Louie is on the swim team.

That’s great news Don.  Well….  I’m working on my PhD is Psychology.

That’s terrific Jim.  Why Psych?

Oh… you know…. I think everybody is nuts.   Well I gotta’ run Donald.  Lots to do.

Hey Jimmy… you would happen to have any cracked corn, would you.

Nope Don.  You know me.  I crack the corn… and then I don’t care.

“One of the most beautiful qualities of true friendship is to understand and to be understood.”  – Lucius Annaeus Seneca

I like a good Ghost Story.  Especially, when they hold a little weight.
Everybody, knows somebody….. with a ghost story.

But here are a few famous ones tonight.

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle…..  You know… Arty…. the genius behind detective Sherlock Holmes.  Turns out, he was a fanatical Spiritualist.   Fanatical with a capital F.  Many of the decisions he made in his life were influenced by the advice of his guide Pheneas… who happened to be a spirit.  Luckily, he could speak to Pheneas..  Conan Doyle’s wife was a medium and she channeled Pheneas.

Abraham Lincoln had a strong interest in Spiritualism early on, and after Willie’s death (his son) it became even more prominent in his life.  In 1842, Lincoln wrote a letter to his friend Joshua F. Speed.  Abe said he ‘had a strong tendency to mysticism’ and that he often felt compelled ‘by some other power than my own will’.   He claimed this power came ‘from above’.  And wouldn’t you know it….. Mediums frequented the White House.

They say Abe’s Ghost now haunts the White House.  He’s been seen by Winston Churchill, Theodore Roosevelt, and Maureen Reagan.  And supposedly, there are many more who have spotted him.  Perhaps the most famous incident was in 1942 when Queen Wilhelmina of the Netherlands heard footsteps outside her White House bedroom and answered a knock on the door, only to see Lincoln in frock coat and top hat standing in front of her (she promptly fainted).

There are a ton of stories… but this last one coincides with one of the scariest movies of all time…..  Stephen King and his wife spent a night at the Stanley Hotel in Estes Park,  which is in Colorado.  They stayed in late September 1974.

Because the resort was to be closed for the winter the very next day, they were the only guests in the sprawling hotel.  Room 217 was the spot.  King said  he saw the spirit of a young boy in distress…..  in a bit of a dream-like state…. The boy was his own 3-year-old son running terrified through the corridors.   It inspired his classic horror story, “The Shining.”

All sorts of things apparently take place there.  Guests have reported hearing the sounds of children running and playing in the halls when no children were present, the feeling of blankets being pulled tight across legs and feet, and even the sensation of the bed gently shaking as they slept.

Sometimes I like to feel that heeby-jeeby-haunted feeling.  But other times….  it just scares the ghost sheet right out of me.

And. There may be nothing to any of it.

Then again…. I just don’t think Honest Abe would lie.

This time of year brings certain sites that you don’t have a chance to see during other months.  And one of my favorite… of all favorites…. is the Grand V of Migrating Geese.  Not only the sight of them, but the sound.

The flapping of the wings.  The honking.  Apparently random honking to us humans.  But to the Geese, it is a very intricate balance of communication.   Back to that later.

This morning,  I took a short walk.  And during that little venture, I saw them.  The V of Geese.  Flying above fiercely.  Gracefully.  Confidently.

And then I realized… they were headed due North.  Well, I did what I could.   I stood there in them middle of the road…. flapping  my arms and honking the best I knew how.  To no avail. Not a one broke formation.   They continued to devotedly follow the leader of the V.  It made me sad.

So I listened as they made their way.  And suddenly.  I, me…. Polly Kronenberger…. could understand their little goosey language.  Honk. Honk.  I could understand them.

“For crying out loud Morty… YOU got us lost again.  We should be to Tennessee by now… but dang it Morty.  I know this is Ohio.. ….  look at all the backward people below.”
“Be quiet Marge.”
“Morty…. we are headed North again.  Just like last year Morty. Do you remember spending the entire winter in Manitoba?  That was horrible Morty.  Horrible.”
“Zip it Marge….”
“Honest to goodness Morty… if we are headed North again….. I  swear Morty….  I’ll … … and…   …..”

And the honks became more faint.  And away North they flew.  Confidently.  To lands unseen, but imagined.

However.  I think they were the Far Side Geese.  I see them every Fall Season.  Headed  due North….  at THIS time of year.

And so it goes.  Some days we don’t have our compasses lined up quite right.  We can either turn around and head in the other direction… or spend a long cold Winter in Manitoba.  Eh.

“Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you have imagined.” – Henry David Thoreau

This is my family, about four years before I was  born.  Yep.
Sure enough. All the way down the line

I am pretty sure my Dad was holding the camera.  Everyone else was in front of the lens.  Me included.  I am in wait…. probably in the left ovary…. if I know me.

While some of us appear to be laboratory creations… we were all considered “normal” at birth.

So there you have it.  Another Kodak Moment….. at the Photo Lab.

Brought to you by the good egg.  With cheese.

“All life is an experiment. The more experiments you make the better.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson