Wupert died in an accident on January 10, 2010. He was out for a drive on his ranch in his golf cart. No one saw the accident, but the cart flipped, he was thrown out and the cart landed on him, killing him instantly. I am his daughter and I vow to keep his blog going...he has left us with so many wonderful stories and it will be my pleasure to share them. He was so excited about his blog and loved the instant responses through the "comments".
We celebrated his life on Friday, January 22, 2010. It was a wonderful celebration, filled with music and stories from his many friends and family. Below you will find a memo he wrote a few months ago, which outlined his wishes following his death. Thank you Wupert - your memo set a wonderful stage for us to occupy on this day that was filled with tears of sadness and laughter! And, as many said at the "celebration" it is impossible to separate Bob and Lois and we will forever miss and love you both!
In the event someone should come upon an old man who is no longer breathing, and doesn’t talk (which is unusual) and he doesn’t respond when you pull his nose a bit, or when you tickle him under the armpits, and as a final test pull the hairs in his nose – you know the jig is up! It’s time to call Sheri. She will undoubtedly call the crematorium. They will come quickly and dispose of the trouble maker. In about two or three days you’ll have a little urn of ashes. You may care to take those ashes and put them with my dear partner, Lois, and scatter them up on a far hill or whatever. I assure you won’t be harming us in any way. The person you knew as an entity is gone. We might have some new experiences if we’re recognized.
As far as furthering my aftermath it is up to my children and grandchildren but it’s optional with you. If you want to have a little memorial service just to talk about old times, congregate, that’s fine – but it’s not necessary. If you do that I suggest you do it in a manner that Lois and I would not frown on from up above. Congregate wherever you like – out in the yard, up on the hill, on top of the rock or a cathedral. No! I don’t want that! Keep the cost down! At that time keep it pretty much a family affair.
We’d like to hear a little music with our heavenly music, could be some from our grandson and his connivers, not too dour, nothing that would burn my ears. We’d like something light and airy, like a Lawrence Welk number. I’d like hear Conde and Sylvia do a harmonica/piano duo, we might even have the duck callers band once more, and a couple of good religious songs in the garden again and another older song or two.
I don’t want to plan it all, you plan it too. If you have a eulogy, don’t crow too much! Whatever happens there should be no bawling, crying or moaning at the bar because there’s nobody our there to cry about. Notify the ushers if they shed a tear!
We’ve had a good life and it’s a time to be grateful and thankful to God that He took us through. Whatever he’s done with us, who will know for awhile.
If there’s any debate on who gets what, I’ve got six pipe wrenches, three of ‘em are pretty good yet. If you fight over them, you can arm wrestle. The best arm wrestler gets the best one and so on. Actually I don’t have much of that kind of stuff, as you well know.
Don’t cheat the poor bird who moves into this house after I leave it. Leave him some stuff to operate with – some of my old hoes and shovels. He might need it if he’s to do a fair job on the yard. There’s a lot of stuff the Goodwill and so on might take on a bet, nothing very critically important.
It would be my preference to let you have what you really want, not that you just haul something away as a keepsake, but something you really want. If you don’t really want it, we’ll give what the museums want and what they don’t want we’ll put in the flea market.
So it is!
Friday, January 29, 2010
Friday, January 8, 2010
A Gallant Try
The recent news of Tareq and Michaele Salahi, the Virginia socialites who crashed the state dinner President Obama had with Indian Prime Minister Manmohan Singh, reminded me of a near encounter Lois and I once had.
Back during the administration of Bush Sr., my wife, Lois, and I visited our friends, Julio and Margarite in Connecticut. We all stayed in their cottage near Aspen, Vermont. We were vacationing, but they had to go back to work. Shameful!
We continued on our way with a little sightseeing to New Hampshire's White Mountains. From there we went into the southern part of New Hampshire neat a stretch where Maine runs along the border for quite a ways.
We found ourselves at a woopsy-doodle of a country fair. It had things we'd never seen or done before. So there we were, two middle-aged people, having a bongo of a time! A man we were talking to asked, “Have you been over to see Kennebunkport?” I said, “Kennebunkport? You mean Bush's...?” He said, “Yeah.” “No. Where is it?” He said, “Not too far. Probably about sixteen miles. It's an interesting coastline there.” It wasn't out of our way so we decided we'd go over there and take a look.
Before long we were in Maine. The route came down along the coast to a nameless little town that we could see had been well cared for. It wasn't too big, and was all painted up nicely. The people lived in cute, little houses and there seemed to be many folks of retirement age. The townspeople had built their homes pretty close to the ocean and had the main road running more inland.
Lois and I stopped to grab a bite to eat. Our server said we should drive up past Walker's Point. It's just a little street but there are no restrictions there. So we set out. It was only four blocks until we were looking at the Pacific Ocean from a little inlet. All at once we realized where we were - in Kennebunkport!
From where we stood we saw, out on a rocky point, a rather sizable home, enough for a big family. The rocky point wasn't too high, but it was sure rocky! I imagined that when the ocean got angry the residents could probably feel the ocean spray on their faces. There was a lagoon in the bay between the house and the road, and another property we couldn't get to. We walked back and forth taking pictures. Lois went one way and I went the other.
All at once she came hustling back, “Bob! Barbara just waved to me! She was out on a portico looking at the ocean when she saw me and waved! I waved back! She was with someone, and when they turned to go back in she waved to me again, so I know she was waving to me!” I said, “Wow! Let's see if we have any luck getting into their place for a visit. Maybe they'd be willing.”
At the Bush's gate were several young, stern-faced guards. I explained we were out on a sashay, knew George and Barbara but had never visited their home. We wondered if they would notifiy them we're here and ask if they have time to see us for just a short time so we could say, “Howdy.” The guard said “ What makes you think you could do that?” I answered him, “Because I'm a member of the Republican National Committeee. I've been a solid member for some time. And my wife's two favorite people in politics today are Ronald Reagan and Barbara Bush.” The guard laughed, “I don't think you've got a chance, but I'll try. Follow me.” We had to walk behind and to the right of them. We passed through an inner-gate where two women in uniform were stationed.
I got out my RNC card and some other forms of identification. They asked if we had an appointment. I said, “No, we're vacationing here. We live in California and don't know when we'll be back. We'd like to say Hi.” One of them said, “These folks are home and they have family and guests here too. It's not open to the public except by invitation or special permission.”
Like a squeaky wheel I continued trying to persuade them, “I think they'd at least acknowledge us.” They finally called into the house. I don't know if they reached either of the Bush's or if they talked to someone who was an employee. I overheard the guard say, “We have a middle-aged couple at the gate whose names are Lois and Robert Mathias. They claim they're of your party, in good faith, are traveling from California and would like permission to say hello and just spend a few minutes with you.” The voice on the other end of the phone said, “Well, this is not possible now. Mrs. Bush is babysitting three of her grandchildren. Mr. Bush is in a boat out on the bay. The only other person here is the cook. Barbara prefers to do the cooking herself, but when she babysits she lets the cook do the cooking. I don't think I want to take care of the kids, so just a moment.”
The guard on the gate said, “If George were there, and they weren't doing anything except sitting in their chairs, you never know, they might've said “Check them out, make sure they don't have a gun on them, then let them come in. We'll talk to them and they can tell us about California.” After all my efforts to talk my way into the Bush home in Kennebunkport I came so close, but in the end I was thwarted!
Nevertheless, it was a beautiful day, so we enjoyed the scenery. Lois swears to this day Mrs. Bush waved to her twice and that if Barbara had actually gotten the message she would've said, “Tell Lois to come on in!”
Back during the administration of Bush Sr., my wife, Lois, and I visited our friends, Julio and Margarite in Connecticut. We all stayed in their cottage near Aspen, Vermont. We were vacationing, but they had to go back to work. Shameful!
We continued on our way with a little sightseeing to New Hampshire's White Mountains. From there we went into the southern part of New Hampshire neat a stretch where Maine runs along the border for quite a ways.
We found ourselves at a woopsy-doodle of a country fair. It had things we'd never seen or done before. So there we were, two middle-aged people, having a bongo of a time! A man we were talking to asked, “Have you been over to see Kennebunkport?” I said, “Kennebunkport? You mean Bush's...?” He said, “Yeah.” “No. Where is it?” He said, “Not too far. Probably about sixteen miles. It's an interesting coastline there.” It wasn't out of our way so we decided we'd go over there and take a look.
Before long we were in Maine. The route came down along the coast to a nameless little town that we could see had been well cared for. It wasn't too big, and was all painted up nicely. The people lived in cute, little houses and there seemed to be many folks of retirement age. The townspeople had built their homes pretty close to the ocean and had the main road running more inland.
Lois and I stopped to grab a bite to eat. Our server said we should drive up past Walker's Point. It's just a little street but there are no restrictions there. So we set out. It was only four blocks until we were looking at the Pacific Ocean from a little inlet. All at once we realized where we were - in Kennebunkport!
From where we stood we saw, out on a rocky point, a rather sizable home, enough for a big family. The rocky point wasn't too high, but it was sure rocky! I imagined that when the ocean got angry the residents could probably feel the ocean spray on their faces. There was a lagoon in the bay between the house and the road, and another property we couldn't get to. We walked back and forth taking pictures. Lois went one way and I went the other.
All at once she came hustling back, “Bob! Barbara just waved to me! She was out on a portico looking at the ocean when she saw me and waved! I waved back! She was with someone, and when they turned to go back in she waved to me again, so I know she was waving to me!” I said, “Wow! Let's see if we have any luck getting into their place for a visit. Maybe they'd be willing.”
At the Bush's gate were several young, stern-faced guards. I explained we were out on a sashay, knew George and Barbara but had never visited their home. We wondered if they would notifiy them we're here and ask if they have time to see us for just a short time so we could say, “Howdy.” The guard said “ What makes you think you could do that?” I answered him, “Because I'm a member of the Republican National Committeee. I've been a solid member for some time. And my wife's two favorite people in politics today are Ronald Reagan and Barbara Bush.” The guard laughed, “I don't think you've got a chance, but I'll try. Follow me.” We had to walk behind and to the right of them. We passed through an inner-gate where two women in uniform were stationed.
I got out my RNC card and some other forms of identification. They asked if we had an appointment. I said, “No, we're vacationing here. We live in California and don't know when we'll be back. We'd like to say Hi.” One of them said, “These folks are home and they have family and guests here too. It's not open to the public except by invitation or special permission.”
Like a squeaky wheel I continued trying to persuade them, “I think they'd at least acknowledge us.” They finally called into the house. I don't know if they reached either of the Bush's or if they talked to someone who was an employee. I overheard the guard say, “We have a middle-aged couple at the gate whose names are Lois and Robert Mathias. They claim they're of your party, in good faith, are traveling from California and would like permission to say hello and just spend a few minutes with you.” The voice on the other end of the phone said, “Well, this is not possible now. Mrs. Bush is babysitting three of her grandchildren. Mr. Bush is in a boat out on the bay. The only other person here is the cook. Barbara prefers to do the cooking herself, but when she babysits she lets the cook do the cooking. I don't think I want to take care of the kids, so just a moment.”
The guard on the gate said, “If George were there, and they weren't doing anything except sitting in their chairs, you never know, they might've said “Check them out, make sure they don't have a gun on them, then let them come in. We'll talk to them and they can tell us about California.” After all my efforts to talk my way into the Bush home in Kennebunkport I came so close, but in the end I was thwarted!
Nevertheless, it was a beautiful day, so we enjoyed the scenery. Lois swears to this day Mrs. Bush waved to her twice and that if Barbara had actually gotten the message she would've said, “Tell Lois to come on in!”
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Bow Tie Mania
There was a time when quite often I found myself garbed in bow ties. Lois once indicated I had a whole drawerful of them – as many as fifteen! Bow ties became my favorite over neck ties because most of them were the clip-on type that I could put on and off quickly.
Not all of my bow ties were clip-on though. Some were the type that had to be tied. My wife had to tie those for me or check when I tied them to see if they were even and straight.
Red, blue, black, yellow, white, you name it, I had a bow tie in that color.
Once, back in my coaching days, I wore a fire engine red bow tie to one of our basketball games. We were in a heated contest and held the lead for quite awhile but then lost it. I called a time-out. The team flocked around me and just as I sent them back to the floor, I heard a man in the stands shout, “Hey Coach! Get rid of that tie and give us some sensible decisions!” He also indicated I'd called the wrong defense. I never liked that man much anyway so I grabbed that tie and threw it right at him. The referee saw this and gave me a technical penalty. He warned me not to do that anymore or I'd be ejected from the game! That red bow tie was one I never forgot.
Bow ties that did different things were a fun part of my collection. One, a Christmas bow tie, flashed lights and if you pushed the center it said “Uh Uhh”. (It was supposed to be saying “Hello”, but I'd worn it out!)
One had a picture of my (supposed) mouth and tongue. When I'd push a little button inside my jacket a little thing popped through the tie and looked like a tongue sticking out. That wasn't very nice, but the kids at school loved it!
For most sports activities I had a favorite that had a little tube attached to the back of the tie with a pump I could hide in my pocket. When I pumped the bulb it would load with air, the second time it would pop a peanut, like a basketball going through the hoop. When I went to shake hands with someone they might get a basketball (peanut) shot at them.
These days I only put on a bow tie occasionally, mostly on holidays or other special occasions. Keep you eye on this blog for future pics of me in my bow tie finery!
Not all of my bow ties were clip-on though. Some were the type that had to be tied. My wife had to tie those for me or check when I tied them to see if they were even and straight.
Red, blue, black, yellow, white, you name it, I had a bow tie in that color.
Once, back in my coaching days, I wore a fire engine red bow tie to one of our basketball games. We were in a heated contest and held the lead for quite awhile but then lost it. I called a time-out. The team flocked around me and just as I sent them back to the floor, I heard a man in the stands shout, “Hey Coach! Get rid of that tie and give us some sensible decisions!” He also indicated I'd called the wrong defense. I never liked that man much anyway so I grabbed that tie and threw it right at him. The referee saw this and gave me a technical penalty. He warned me not to do that anymore or I'd be ejected from the game! That red bow tie was one I never forgot.
Bow ties that did different things were a fun part of my collection. One, a Christmas bow tie, flashed lights and if you pushed the center it said “Uh Uhh”. (It was supposed to be saying “Hello”, but I'd worn it out!)
One had a picture of my (supposed) mouth and tongue. When I'd push a little button inside my jacket a little thing popped through the tie and looked like a tongue sticking out. That wasn't very nice, but the kids at school loved it!
For most sports activities I had a favorite that had a little tube attached to the back of the tie with a pump I could hide in my pocket. When I pumped the bulb it would load with air, the second time it would pop a peanut, like a basketball going through the hoop. When I went to shake hands with someone they might get a basketball (peanut) shot at them.
These days I only put on a bow tie occasionally, mostly on holidays or other special occasions. Keep you eye on this blog for future pics of me in my bow tie finery!
Necktie Madness
In the days of yore if the occasion was significant you wore a tie. Even as a little boy going to Sunday school my mother hung a tie on my shirt. The girls all wore pretty little dresses. Nowadays both the boys and the girls wear blue jeans, but not everybody.
As I went through various parts of my life I found ties were kind of a nice accessory, gilded the lilly, you know, made me look more intelligent than I probably was! If I had my hair well combed or a nice butch and a nice shirt with a tie, sometimes even a coat, I was a little more distinctive in a crowd. Maybe I was really a skunk in the crowd, but thanks to my tie & suit, that was the perception. I noticed that in gatherings in high school many boys wore some kind of a tie. Today you'd have to search hither and dither to find a tie. Back then, all male teachers wore ties, and all women dressed up. Now, some yes and some no.
In the army we all wore ties except when we were at work. In the world of education that I was in the more advanced I got the more uniform and “tied” up I was. As I continued this became more pronounced. The more elevated you were the more "tied" down I. This was the world I lived in.
My wife acted as my inspector of dress, who made sure that my ears were clean, that I had shaved, had my hair looking neat, no spots on my suit, a striking shirt and a necktie of significance - not some old rag hanging around my neck. She felt she had to select them so they coordinated with my suit or color of shirt and even make sure my socks and ties matched, so I looked dapper.
How did I get a whole barrel of neckties? Once in a while I'd buy a tie, maybe once a year. Now Lois, on the other hand - woah! If she thought that didn't go with this or this didn't go with that she shopped for a glamorous one. She'd spend her wad on it and bring it home joyfully and gleefully. She'd hang it around my neck the next time I needed to dress up. I have to admit, she would gild this lilly.
In addition to Lois' selections, I had several kids and grand kids who got the message. They liked Granddad's ties. So every time I had a birthday, or there was some other gift giving tradition, they brought me a necktie. Whether they were glamorous or not I wore them for a while to show I appreciated their loving kindness. So I got into the necktie business.
The biggest problem of all was how to make a decision. I'd go to my closet where there was row upon row of neckties. Then I'd take minutes to decide which one was best. This is when my wife came in and picked one. Some of them tend to have a lot of significance – like the one I was married in, or the one I graduated college in. Those ties held big memories.
Lois once told me I had eighty neckties! She said, "Bob that's too many. You never look at them." So she cut them down to about half that. I'm not sure where they went. I think she donated them somewhere.
I thought I was going to make it all the way to the end with the ones I have this time but my secretary, Nancy, said, “You've got all those ties and you hardly wear any.” She asked me if I'd sort through them and find the ones I thought I would ever wear. Then she would donate the rest.
That gave me a headache galore because I can't decide which one I might wear. Nowadays I wear about one a year. If I only live three more years I'll only need three more ties at the most. That's a morbid selection. So I have to give it much thought. I have had wonderful times in those neckties.
When I was Superintendent of Schools there was a teacher who wasn't a picture of dress etiquette, but was a pretty good teacher. Sometimes he'd dress two times before he came to school – he'd get dressed then work awhile at home, then he change into his finery - which was pants, a shirt and a hurriedly grabbed necktie. He'd come to school tucking in his shirt and tying his tie.
He became such an interesting creature that all the kids would wait and watch him as he came to school each morning. Sometimes he'd get to school and his pants were eking down over his hips because he didn't have on a belt. But he had a necktie around his neck, usually untied. He'd tie a knot at each end then put it through his belt loops, which would keep his pants from falling down. Any kid who went to Anderson Valley High School at that time can verify this.
Soon after I was married I got a new necktie. We were in our kitchen, I draped my new tie around my neck then around Lois' neck and tied us both up face to face. My mother said, “That's silly!” So ties can tie you together a bit. Heh heh. All in all, ties can be a charming asset despite the opposition. I'm sorry they aren't in demand today. So Nancy I guess you'll have to pick out two or three and chuck em!
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