WAY-BACK WEDNESDAY

 Last Thursday, a throw-back Thursday, I showed you a magazine from 1945 with an advertisement for Old Taylor bourbon whiskey.

Today, on a way-back Wednesday, I'm going to take you back even further, thanks to an issue of Success Magazine from the year 1908!

That means that magazine, which my wife had squirreled away in a drawer and which came to light during some cleaning recently, is 113 years old.

That's One-Hundred-and-Thirteen years!

Probably older than anyone reading this blog post.

Here it is.

For those of you who don't recognize him, that's the then-President of the United States on the cover.

Theodore "Teddy" Roosevelt.

The magazine was founded in 1897 by Orison Swett Marden.

Googling him will produce a fascinating biography of one of the rags-to-riches men of the late 19th Century.

Looking at old magazines like this is always fascinating, to see how things have changed and at how some things remain the same.

Here's an advertisement for an early invention by one Thomas Edison.

Take notice of the very-corseted lady on the left and her well-attired gentleman companion.

Another advertisement inside told of a cereal created in 1894 by William K. Kellogg for patients at a sanitarium where he worked in Battle Creek, Michigan.

Interestingly enough, all these years later, Kellogg's Corn Flakes and Success Magazine are still with us.

EBONY

 I was surprised to read this morning that today, August 17th, is Black Cat Appreciation Day.

Now that sits just fine with me because I have for decades appreciated the affection and friendship of black cats.

I've never been one of those suspicious people leery of letting a dark furred feline cross their path for fear of bad luck.

I've never been fearful about seeing one on Halloween.

I've never been one of those people who believe black cats are omens of bad things about to occur.

In fact I love black cats.

(Actually I love *all* cats but those of the midnight color are my favorites.)

One of the first cats to enter our (Judy's and my) life was a scrawny stray the kids picked up somewhere and named Primo.

I thought that was a great name, meaning number one, and Primo he became.

Primo

It wasn't until years later that "the kids" admitted that they had chosen the name because it was a nickname for some kind of hashish!

As a member of our family Primo had moved with us from Indianapolis to Arizona and made half a dozen moves in the Greater Phoenix area.

Some years later, we acquired a mostly black and always mischievous youngster who became Jazz.

Jazz

"You even reach for that faucet and I'm outa here!"

Finally, there was a young ruffian who showed up in our backyard some years back with some bleeding sores around his neck apparently inflicted by a neighborhood encounter with another creature.

I named him Blackie Detroit because of his apparently pugnacious nature.

Blackie Detroit

At first we weren't going to allow him into the house but as the Cat Motherer (Judy) washed his wounds and took him to the vet and petted him, he wormed his way into our affection.

As he calmed down, becoming an indoor cat, and grew his name didn't suit him and he became our beloved Blackwell.

Blackwell

After a long run with us, he grew old and ill and weak.

He used to jump up on my desk and share the bird-watching with me.

But on his final day I had to pick him up and lay him gently on the desk so we could spend some final moments together.

Blackwell's Final Day

I've loved all of our black cats and hated to lose them.

They become and became members of our family.

So on this Black Cat Appreciation Day, let's all hail the mighty black cats.

UP CHINO WAY

 As I mentioned in a brief post last night, Judy and I took a little Sunday drive yesterday.

We headed up to Chino Valley, then went east a couple of miles out of town on Perkinsville Road, where we took the pictures in today's post.

We then went to what I think must be the northwest limits of the town before heading back south and finally wound our way into Williamson Valley before heading home.

It was a good tour and we were constantly amazed at how green everything is, due to the fairly continuous daily or nightly rains we've had.

Anywhere here is something of what we saw.

SUNDAY DRIVE

 

THE FRIDAY FUNNIES

 'Tis time!

Not for triskaidekaphobians.

For those of you who laugh at superstition.

And at the sick so-called humor that presides over these end of the week sessions on this self-serving on-line journal known as a blog.

So laugh on, Gentle Readers, we are about to begin.

All right, don't let me egg you on any further.

It's time for me to wish you all an absolutely, fantabulous weekend, free of scaredy-cats, leaning ladders, and ghosts.

In other words, no superstition.

Of course if something direful does come your way, don't blame me.

Just remember . . . always keep laughing!

Here, kitty-kitty . . .

(ah, yes, the buddha speaks)

THROWBACK THURSDAY

 Judy was going through some keepsakes yesterday and she came into my den toting this magazine.

Now that's pretty cool.

A Collier's Magazine with a great looking blonde on the cover.

But that's not the best part.

Let me zoom in a little for you.

Yeah, check out the date on it, not to mention the price.

But that's still not the best part and I know what you're thinking.

That sub-headline about "The Struggle Against Franco Still Goes On" would be it, right?

Some of us remember a program called "NBC's Saturday Night" that first came on our screens in 1975 and featured the catchphrase "Generalissimo Francisco Franco is still dead", which made fun of the news story that went on for weeks about the impending death of the Spanish strongman.

Incidentally that program later became known as Saturday Night Live.

But to get back to the subject at hand, no, that's not what made the discovery of this magazine so important to me.

The true gold, as they say, came in an advertisement on page 57.

Behold!

Baseball Steve has been calling me "Old Taylor" for decades.

And for years I took it as a mild insult.

But now, lo these many, many years later, I realize that he meant it as a compliment all along.

WAYBACK WEDNESDAY CARS

 You regular (and Gentle) readers may have heard me crow about my favorite car from the past.

Even when I had to pump up a flat tire.

That was my little '71 MGB convertible, which I had for only one year.

I've been through a lot of cars during my driving days, from a 47 Chevy, through a Mercury Turnpike Cruiser, through a couple of Impalas, a VW Quantum station wagon, all the way to my 2013 Nissan Altima, which we bought new and still has less than 50,000 miles on it.

I've enjoyed them all, at various times.

But my favorite car of all time was one I didn't even own.

This one.

My uncle Zenas bought that 1948 Packard Super convertible coupe new for less than twenty-three hundred bucks.

It was black with white sidewall tires and, as I remember, a blood red interior.

It was swank!

But, I found in looking through some family pictures today, that I can go back even further than that.

That's my grandfather, B.W., sitting on the running board.

The raffish young man in the straw boater is my father, F.B.

My grandmother, Daisy Berry Taylor (I swear) is on the right and her mother, my great-grandmother Libby (Elizabeth) Howland Berry, is on the left.

I can't tell you what year the photo was taken or what kind of car it is.

Judging by my father's appearance I would guess it's in the mid-1920's.

But I'm at a loss for cars from that era.

So maybe one of you experts out there can tell me what it is.

Meantime, I sure wish I had that Packard stud-mobile!

RAINDROPS . . .

 . . . keep fallin' on my head." ☂

Didn't need that brolly (bumbershoot) (umbrella) today.

In spite of black, threatening skies bearing down on us we got just about enough rain to make spatters on the window.

And dampen the back yard plants.

Continuing my silly theme then, "rain, rain, go away.  Come again some other day."

The thunder sounds nice though.

The Boss

I must thank Garrison Keillor for mentioning Bruce Springsteen's take on Prince's "Purple Rain".

It really is exceptional, especially including a great guitar solo by the legendary Nils Lofgren.

So put down your scorn and give it nearly 7 minutes of pleasure.

It's truly worth it and full of feeling.

Enjoy your Monday.

THE FRIDAY FUNNIES

 Well, it's nearing the end of the week again and what's new?

Oh, Clint Eastwood has a new movie coming out that he both directed and starred in.

Clint who, you ask?

Well he is 91 years old!

Hasn't he ever heard of retirement, asks Jack Nicholson?

Or maybe that was me.

And that's slmost all I've got.

Now don't worry about your INCREDIBLY ANCIENT age, just try to have a wonderful weekend.

And never forget to keep laughing!

Here, kitty-kitty . . .

(oops)

Some of you skeptics may think that's cheating; that isn't really a kitty.

So for you . . here's another try.

Here, kitty-kitty . . .

ORGANIZING

Well, doesn't it?