---- The Walrus and the Carpenter
Were walking close at hand;
They wept like anything to see
Such quantities of sand:
------
"O Oysters, come and walk with us!"
The Walrus did beseech.
"A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,
Along the briny beach:
We cannot do with more than four,
To give a hand to each."
------
But four young Oysters hurried up,
All eager for the treat:
------
Four other Oysters followed them,
And yet another four;
And thick and fast they came at last,
And more, and more, and more --
All hopping through the frothy waves,
And scrambling to the shore.
The Walrus and the Carpenter walked on a mile or so,
And then they rested on a rock
Conveniently low:
And all the little Oysters stood
And waited in a row.
"The time has come," the Walrus said,
"To talk of many things:
Of shoes -- and ships -- and sealing-wax --
Of cabbages -- and kings --
And why the sea is boiling hot --
And whether pigs have wings."
Our first thought was indeed to walk along the sea, but without the Oysters -- Neither of us are oyster fans. Wretched things, oysters, and the thought of slurping down a raw oyster is disgusting. Humankind spent a few million years trying to discover fire and now certain people choose to revert many millions of years and eat raw oysters -- secretly delighting in tiny burbling oyster screams as the poor things slide down gaping maws. --- But I digress.
We've been walking a lot lately, covering and re-covering North and Northeast Portland (with an occasional foray into Southeast and Southwest) and repeated trips into Forest Park. Frankly it has become boring, and we look for interest wherever we can find it.
"Which way did you walk?"
"Ainsworth to Denver, then I zig-zagged over to Alberta and Williams, and etc., etc."
"Did you see anything interesting?"
"Well, letmethink --- No."
And so it goes, with some occasional variety:
The other day as I walked past an elementary school, I saw a group of 6 year olds playing some sort of game with a large piece of multi-colored nylon. As I came abreast I heard their leader (a 13 or 14 year old) say: "Lets put the tent away, and then we'll play Red Rover." A little girl plaintively replied: "I don't know Red Rover."
Not to brag, but I could have told her all about Red Rover. I could have chilled her little heart with tales of Red Rover, for we played Red Rover when I was in elementary school. My school was one room (later expanding to two) with the normal age range of 6 to 14, except the school drew from a logging and a farming community which were largely transient so there were many kids who had moved from school to school too often and been held back, so the age range expanded to 16 or 18 or 23 or so it seemed.
For anyone who doesn't know Red Rover, the rules are simple: Players are divided into two teams. Each side holds hands in a line, the lines separated by 20 feet, and in turn, the captains would say: "Red Rover, Red Rover, send Jimmy right over." And little Jimmy, legs churning, would dash between the lines, bash into the other side, and attempt to break through. If he succeeded, he would choose an opponent and both would return to Jimmy's original side. If he failed to break through, he would join the other side. The goal was for one team to capture all of the other players.
Strategy is complex: If the captain calls for little Jimmy to come over, there's a good chance Jimmy will be captured -- however he'll also be a weak link, introducing the chance to lose a 24 year old. Eventually all the "big" kids will be on one side (Unless it's necessary, no captain would ever say: "Red Rover, Red Rover, send Bubba right over.") but in the end the Big Kid would be called and he, or she, --- at 28 and muscled from gnawing down trees, would come roaring between the lines. Bashing into a line of cowering 6 and 7 year olds, flinging them about like tiny tenpins, ricocheting off the outhouse and flying into the blackberry thicket. --- That was Red Rover.
We didn't always play Red Rover. Another popular game didn't have a name, but could have been called: "Fling the little kid into Roaring River" A corner of the school yard had a modest grove of Douglas Fir trees, one of which had a large, long and thick branch which came close enough to the ground that a Big Kid could jump up and grab it. Several would then pull it to one side, a Little Kid would climb on, cling as tightly as possible -- the Big Kids would let it loose and the Little Kid would get a low-budget carnival ride --- If the Little Kid didn't hold on tightly enough he would be flung into a nearby fir trunk, or perhaps fly down the hill toward Roaring River. It was very exciting.
Also exciting but in a different way (and in truth frowned upon by adults) was "Mumbly-Peg", or "Stretch-em" -- a game involving pocket knives. The players would stand three feet apart, throw, and try to stick their knife into the ground. In turn, each player would throw the knife near his own foot: the goal was to stick your knife into the ground as close as possible to your foot; and wherever the knife stuck, you would move your foot next to it. Your feet would get farther and farther apart -- the loser would be the one who couldn't move his feet any farther apart or who fell over. If you actually stuck the knife in your foot, you won. Adults didn't like the game because it could damage shoes. (yes, we did carry pocket knives to school -- some (dw) have claimed the knives were used to sharpen quill pens but that isn't true)
My sister will (I am sure) verify that this is all sort of true. But I digress.
dw and I decided we would walk another Camino, and we've been training. We considered the Northern Route -- along the Bay of Biscay (too hilly, and perhaps too urban), The Portuguese Route -- along the Atlantic (the first half from Lisbon seems highly urban and industrial -- not pleasant), and after consideration we decided to walk the Via de la Plata. We won't walk the entire route, instead we'll start at Merida -- still walking about 500 miles -- certainly sufficient for us. The route follows, and is about 50 to 100 miles east of the Portugal/Spain border. It will be different from the other two we've walked. The Via de la Plata is much less traveled and passes through a more lightly populated region. It'll be interesting.
Some sights in our walking area:
JOKES: Plateau -- the highest form of flattery.
How do you think the unthinkable?
With an ithberg.
TRIVIA: Odin rode an 8-legged horse, which will be eaten by a wolf at the end of the world. So the wolf will be eating a hairy, meadow-muffin producing centipede.
When he played Micawber in "David Copperfield", W.C. Fields insisted on including a juggling scene. The studio heads vetoed the idea, noting that Dickens made no mention of juggling in the book.
"He probably forgot." replied Fields.
When that idea failed, he suggested that after the funeral of Copperfield's mother, Fields should do his pool table act while telling a story about a snake. That idea was also vetoed, but it certainly would have made a different movie.
--------- And so it goes. DJA --------
Were walking close at hand;
They wept like anything to see
Such quantities of sand:
------
"O Oysters, come and walk with us!"
The Walrus did beseech.
"A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,
Along the briny beach:
We cannot do with more than four,
To give a hand to each."
------
But four young Oysters hurried up,
All eager for the treat:
------
Four other Oysters followed them,
And yet another four;
And thick and fast they came at last,
And more, and more, and more --
All hopping through the frothy waves,
And scrambling to the shore.
The Walrus and the Carpenter walked on a mile or so,
And then they rested on a rock
Conveniently low:
And all the little Oysters stood
And waited in a row.
"The time has come," the Walrus said,
"To talk of many things:
Of shoes -- and ships -- and sealing-wax --
Of cabbages -- and kings --
And why the sea is boiling hot --
And whether pigs have wings."
Our first thought was indeed to walk along the sea, but without the Oysters -- Neither of us are oyster fans. Wretched things, oysters, and the thought of slurping down a raw oyster is disgusting. Humankind spent a few million years trying to discover fire and now certain people choose to revert many millions of years and eat raw oysters -- secretly delighting in tiny burbling oyster screams as the poor things slide down gaping maws. --- But I digress.
We've been walking a lot lately, covering and re-covering North and Northeast Portland (with an occasional foray into Southeast and Southwest) and repeated trips into Forest Park. Frankly it has become boring, and we look for interest wherever we can find it.
"Which way did you walk?"
"Ainsworth to Denver, then I zig-zagged over to Alberta and Williams, and etc., etc."
"Did you see anything interesting?"
"Well, letmethink --- No."
And so it goes, with some occasional variety:
The other day as I walked past an elementary school, I saw a group of 6 year olds playing some sort of game with a large piece of multi-colored nylon. As I came abreast I heard their leader (a 13 or 14 year old) say: "Lets put the tent away, and then we'll play Red Rover." A little girl plaintively replied: "I don't know Red Rover."
Not to brag, but I could have told her all about Red Rover. I could have chilled her little heart with tales of Red Rover, for we played Red Rover when I was in elementary school. My school was one room (later expanding to two) with the normal age range of 6 to 14, except the school drew from a logging and a farming community which were largely transient so there were many kids who had moved from school to school too often and been held back, so the age range expanded to 16 or 18 or 23 or so it seemed.
For anyone who doesn't know Red Rover, the rules are simple: Players are divided into two teams. Each side holds hands in a line, the lines separated by 20 feet, and in turn, the captains would say: "Red Rover, Red Rover, send Jimmy right over." And little Jimmy, legs churning, would dash between the lines, bash into the other side, and attempt to break through. If he succeeded, he would choose an opponent and both would return to Jimmy's original side. If he failed to break through, he would join the other side. The goal was for one team to capture all of the other players.
Strategy is complex: If the captain calls for little Jimmy to come over, there's a good chance Jimmy will be captured -- however he'll also be a weak link, introducing the chance to lose a 24 year old. Eventually all the "big" kids will be on one side (Unless it's necessary, no captain would ever say: "Red Rover, Red Rover, send Bubba right over.") but in the end the Big Kid would be called and he, or she, --- at 28 and muscled from gnawing down trees, would come roaring between the lines. Bashing into a line of cowering 6 and 7 year olds, flinging them about like tiny tenpins, ricocheting off the outhouse and flying into the blackberry thicket. --- That was Red Rover.
We didn't always play Red Rover. Another popular game didn't have a name, but could have been called: "Fling the little kid into Roaring River" A corner of the school yard had a modest grove of Douglas Fir trees, one of which had a large, long and thick branch which came close enough to the ground that a Big Kid could jump up and grab it. Several would then pull it to one side, a Little Kid would climb on, cling as tightly as possible -- the Big Kids would let it loose and the Little Kid would get a low-budget carnival ride --- If the Little Kid didn't hold on tightly enough he would be flung into a nearby fir trunk, or perhaps fly down the hill toward Roaring River. It was very exciting.
Also exciting but in a different way (and in truth frowned upon by adults) was "Mumbly-Peg", or "Stretch-em" -- a game involving pocket knives. The players would stand three feet apart, throw, and try to stick their knife into the ground. In turn, each player would throw the knife near his own foot: the goal was to stick your knife into the ground as close as possible to your foot; and wherever the knife stuck, you would move your foot next to it. Your feet would get farther and farther apart -- the loser would be the one who couldn't move his feet any farther apart or who fell over. If you actually stuck the knife in your foot, you won. Adults didn't like the game because it could damage shoes. (yes, we did carry pocket knives to school -- some (dw) have claimed the knives were used to sharpen quill pens but that isn't true)
My sister will (I am sure) verify that this is all sort of true. But I digress.
dw and I decided we would walk another Camino, and we've been training. We considered the Northern Route -- along the Bay of Biscay (too hilly, and perhaps too urban), The Portuguese Route -- along the Atlantic (the first half from Lisbon seems highly urban and industrial -- not pleasant), and after consideration we decided to walk the Via de la Plata. We won't walk the entire route, instead we'll start at Merida -- still walking about 500 miles -- certainly sufficient for us. The route follows, and is about 50 to 100 miles east of the Portugal/Spain border. It will be different from the other two we've walked. The Via de la Plata is much less traveled and passes through a more lightly populated region. It'll be interesting.
Some sights in our walking area:
JOKES: Plateau -- the highest form of flattery.
How do you think the unthinkable?
With an ithberg.
TRIVIA: Odin rode an 8-legged horse, which will be eaten by a wolf at the end of the world. So the wolf will be eating a hairy, meadow-muffin producing centipede.
When he played Micawber in "David Copperfield", W.C. Fields insisted on including a juggling scene. The studio heads vetoed the idea, noting that Dickens made no mention of juggling in the book.
"He probably forgot." replied Fields.
When that idea failed, he suggested that after the funeral of Copperfield's mother, Fields should do his pool table act while telling a story about a snake. That idea was also vetoed, but it certainly would have made a different movie.
--------- And so it goes. DJA --------
