The Making of A Citizen

 

From Uncle Vellanoff's Journal

 

 

After I had been in the United States for several years I decided that I wanted to become a citizen of this great country. I studied for several months and then went before a judge in a small town in Arkansas. This magistrate looked at my paperwork and then said, “I have several questions to ask you and if you can give me the correct answers to most of them I will grant you citizenship. He dug around in his desk and came up with a sheet of paper which I guessed contained the questions in question. He started:

“In which battle did Napoleon die?”

I answered, “His last one.”

The judge continued, “Where was the Declaration of Independence signed?”

My response, “At the bottom.”

The judge looked at me, then studied the sheet, turned it over to see if anything was written on the back, and then, finding nothing there, turned it back over and asked, “The River Ravi flows in which state?” That one was easy, I said, “Liquid.”

He stared at me a long time then with a sigh continued. “What is the main reason for divorce?

My response, “Marriage.”

He said with some heat, “Do you really think that is the right answer?” I asked him, “Is that answer wrong?” He looked at the paper for some time and finally said with some reluctance, “Well, I can’t say that it is.”

He read the next one, “What is the main reason for failure?”

My answer, “Exams.”

He read the next question to himself and smiled. “How can you lift an elephant with one hand?”

I thought a second and said, “You’ll never find an elephant that has only one hand.”

He slammed the test paper down on his desk and jumped up sputtering an oath. Then he stopped, shook himself and once he had regained his composure slowly sat back down while scowling at me.

“If it took eight men ten hours to build a wall, how long would it take five men to build it?” “No time at all, the wall is already built.”

The judged looked down the remaining questions and mumbled, “I’ll just ask one more.” “How can you drop a raw egg onto a concrete floor without cracking it?”

“Any way you want, concrete floors are very hard to crack.”

The man put his head on his desk and cried. After a bit he looked at me, reached for a citizenship certificate, and signed it after putting my name in the appropriate place.

He said, “You’re the first person who didn’t answer one question right, but neither can I say you answered any wrong. You are now a citizen and God help us all.”

The next day as we passed his office we saw a sign on the door that said, “Gone fishing. Don’t expect me back.”

It’s Not Hard to Tell with a Buffalo

     From my journal: (December 2003.)  The other day I watched part of the movie ‘Hercules.’ This is an old movie and was something to keep me from wondering why I was ironing shirts and pressing pants. (Lorraine is in Texas selling our house.) At one point, the hero went out to save some village from the “Terrible Bull Creature of Argon”, or some such. Anyway, it was a bull that had been terrorizing the countryside. The first look at this terrible creature showed it to be a buffalo. No kidding, a buffalo, and a fairly young one at that. The first shot showed this poor buffalo running through what looked like a gravel pit. Now I’ve spent a little time around buffalos, and have the photos to prove it. I managed this despite the instructional shouts from my family. Things like “get back in the car you ______.” “Dad, they look mean.” “Don’t climb through that fence.” “Get back on this side of the fence.” And the clincher, “the sign says _______” ---as if a sign would know anything about the emotional stability of a herd of buffalo.

So I’ve seen buffalos up close and know the difference between one that’s coming toward me in an aggressive way, and one that is in flight. One big clue is whether you’re seeing horns or a tail. It’s not rocket science.

This young buffalo was definitely running away from something. Anyway, Hercules finally got his hands on this hairy little beast and bulldogged him to the ground. (Between the first shot and the bulldogging scene this beast had grown a respectable set of horns and a shaggy mane. Of course, in this bulldogging shot we only saw the buffalo’s head.) The villagers were overjoyed that this terrible creature had been vanquished. That scene gave me a good laugh, which carried me through the rest of the ironing.

That “Lovin’ Feeling” – Texas Style 

Speaking of Texas: Several years ago when we were living in that Great State, a large church in Dallas tried something new for Valentine’s Day. They were asking people to show their love for their loved ones by turning in whatever guns they had lying about. To encourage that “lovin’ feeling” the church was going to pay fifty dollars each for the guns. Keep in mind that this is Texas, where people show their love for their loved ones by buying them guns. The church did announce that they would have “armed police” supervising the process. I’m guessing they must have had to shell out one hundred or maybe even one hundred and fifty dollars on the deal.

"I’ve Got To Get Me Some of That"

We watched a program about a tribe that lives along the Amazon. Before going on a hunt they will puncture their skin and rub in some toxin from a local frog. The frog sweats this toxin when tied spread-eagled over a fire. The commentators were quick to point out that the frogs survive this triumph to sweat again another day. Anyway, after getting this toxin into his blood stream, the hunter vomits violently, then goes into a stupor. When he comes to, he seems to think his senses are so heightened that he can hunt with the ability of a Jaguar. I’m sure they know what they’re talking about.

My question is, how does something like this get started? Let’s start with the poor frogs. How many of them got cooked before the right temperature was figured out? And how long before the frog mothers would say, “Don’t worry Albert, they just want your sweat.” Then the tribe members: I wonder who first said, “Oh look, our supper is sweating.” Or, “I wonder if this sweat is good for anything?” And then how long before some guy rubbed some sweat into an opening in his epidermis, got violently ill, and said, “Boy I’ve got to try that again.” Then how long before they tied all that to the fact that hunting seemed easier?

It almost seems like these folks had some help from someone who really wanted to make them look ridiculous or had some help from someone who really knew what to do. And the biggest question of all - if I was standing off and looking at my culture and my rituals, would they appear as ridiculous? I’ll have to think about that.

And Then The Fight Started

 

From Uncle Vellanoff's Journal

One year we had a three-week break right after New Years. Out last engagement was in New York. Most of the troupe headed for their homes. Not having a permanent address I hung out at the Algonquin Hotel where a fan was able to comp a room for me.

When our break was over and the troupe gathered back for rehearsals of our new show for the upcoming season I found that several of our guys were disheartened and despondent. When I tried to figure out why they were missing their usual chipper attitudes I found that all three of these gentlemen had left home after having had disagreements with their wives. After more probing, I heard the following stories:

Husband one:  My wife and I were sitting at a table at her high school reunion, and she kept staring at a drunken man swigging his drink as he sat alone at a nearby table.

I asked her, “Do you know him?”

“Yes”, she sighed, “He’s my old boyfriend….I understand he took to drinking right after we split up those many years ago, and I hear he hasn’t been sober since.”

“My lands!” I said, “Who would think a person could go on celebrating that long?” And then the fight started….

 Husband two:  My wife was hinting about what she wanted for our upcoming anniversary. She said, “I want something shiny that goes from 0 to 250 in about 3 seconds.” I bought her a bathroom scale. And then the fight started…..

Husband three:  My wife was standing nude, looking in the bedroom mirror. She was not happy with what she saw and said to me, “I feel horrible; I look old, fat, and ugly. I really need you to pay me a compliment.” I replied, “Your eyesight’s near perfect.” And then the fight started…..

(Editors note; I’ve heard versions of these same stories from other sources. I’m not sure if they started with Vellanoff or if he appropriated these antidotes from local lore, but I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t just make them up.)

 

 

FROM MY PERSONAL JOURNAL

Explanation of the Journal

When I was young, my family was fortunate to have my grandfather Spady live with us for a few years. After his death I became aware, from an aunt, of some of his history, which was most fascinating. I’ve always longed to know more about his early life.

In order that my progeny should not be saying the same thing about me someday, I started keeping a journal. By this time I was in my early fifties. This journal details what I was doing with my life and remembrances of my childhood. Also worked into these pages are my observations about what is going on in the world and my reactions.

The childhood remembrances will be part of an upcoming book that should be available this Fall.

So some of what I’ve done and am doing, and my observations and reactions to what has been, and is currently going on around me, will be inserted into this blog from time to time.

KENTUCKY BOURBON

November, 2004

     In the State of Kentucky the distilling of whiskey is a big deal. It seems that some time in the dim past some guy in Kentucky was distilling whiskey, putting it in barrels and shipping it down the waterways to New Orleans and beyond. Because of the time involved in shipping, the whiskey had a chance to age more than some others and so it’s reputation grew. Because this particular distiller was in Bourbon County in Kentucky, the stuff became known as Kentucky Bourbon Whiskey, or just plain Bourbon.

So one weekend, Lorraine and I went out to a local distillery. (We had a choice of several within an hour or so of Lexington.) It’s a very nice facility that has been there for over one hundred and fifty years. They have a very well done and informative visitor center. We took a tour where the guide explained each step of the process. How they add some rye grain to make the bourbon sweet. How they only do about 100 barrels per week compared to Jack Daniels, which does about 1,800 barrels per day. How they cook the three grains with the limestone-filtered water and then run it through three distilling processes in huge solid copper pots. How they toast the inside of the barrel to caramelize something in the wood and then how they char the inside of the barrel so that the whiskey can travel into the wood and back out again depending on the temperature and the expansion factor of the whiskey. How they age it for from six to ten years. How considerate they are to filter out the charcoal before bottling the stuff. Then we went back to the visitor center where they made available to each of us a ½-once sample. These sample glasses were small and had the name of the distillery engraved on the side. Lorraine wanted a set of these glasses. After all the talk about how delicious this stuff was and how it was the best in the world, we thought we should try it. With each small glass, they gave out a “Tasting Notes” card to help us appreciate what we were about to receive. The card touched on three different areas:

 

LOOK

Medium amber with a tawny copper hue

NOSE

Vanilla, caramel and toffee with a hint of citrus

TASTE

Toffee, roasted nuts, delicate butterscotch, vanilla, peach and aromatic spices

FINISH

Long, sweet, and dry 

After reading this we thought it just might taste okay. After the first sip we couldn’t believe our senses. After the second sip we came up with our own twist on the Tasting Notes. The LOOK was right on. The NOSE was more like kerosene with a hint of chicken manure. The TASTE was more like jalapeno gasoline with more than a hint of dead donkey. We were amazed at just how vile this stuff tasted. Maybe the taste gets better after the first pint or so.

There are only five things in this whiskey: three grains, water, and yeast. They throw in some sour mash, which is leftover fermented grain from a previous batch, that is used to kick-start the new batch. They take fermented grain (spelled rotten), distill out the alcohol, put it into a partially burnt barrel, ignore it for 10 years, take it out and bottle it, and then they have the b______s to tell us that it tastes like toffee, roasted nuts, delicate butterscotch, vanilla, and peaches. Now where in the world is this stuff going to pick up those flavors? They have a product that the master distiller can’t swallow without its inhibiting his ability to know what he’s doing.

They pay federal taxes (by now it’s probably more) of $13.40 per gallon, so it’s no wonder there is very little government interest in seeing the consumption of alcohol decline.

As you can probably tell, we are not whiskey drinkers.

Applicants Apply Here

 

From Uncle Vellanoff's Journal

We had finished up in Kansas City, taken the train into Chicago, and were leaving the train. As we shuffled out onto the platform two beefy looking thugs grabbed Ron and headed into the terminal. Several of us guys dropped our luggage and ran them down. We surrounded them to block their progress and I said, “What’s going on here.” One of the men showed his Pinkerton badge and introduced himself and his partner. They explained that Ron was late with his payments on his auto and they were taking him in to see the credit manager of this large Ford dealership out in Aurora.

     We weren’t sure how legit this all was so we told them we would come along to see that Ron was okay. They had no problem with that, so we all climbed into their car and ended up in the offices of Aurora Ford. The session with the credit manager turned out fine as the whole thing was a misunderstanding because of some funds being posted to the wrong account.

     The credit manager turned out to be a nice guy as well as having a good sense of humor. To compensate for having brought Ron and the rest of us all the way from the train station in downtown Chicago out to Aurora he suggested that he take us out for dinner. We agreed, as actors will never pass up a free meal.

     I should mention here that this man had a wooden leg.

     At dinner, the conversation covered many topics, but the best part was when the credit manager, whose name was Albert, answered the question, “How did you get to be a credit manager?” His answer was, “As you can imagine, companies do not like to lose money, so their credit managers are under a great deal of pressure to see that that doesn’t happen. So to start with I had to take a test.”

     We asked what this test was like and he went on to explain:

The test was broken down into a number of categories.

• History:  Describe the history of the papacy from its origins to the present day exclusively, on its social, political, economic, religious, and philosophical impact on Europe, Asia, America, and Africa. Be brief, concise, and specific.

• Medicine: You have been provided with a razor blade, a piece of gauze, and a bottle of Scotch. Remove your appendix. If your appendix has already been removed, re-insert it. Do not suture until you work has been inspected. You have 15 minutes.

• Public Speaking: 2,500 riot-crazed aborigines are storming your office. Calm them. You may use any ancient language except Greek.

• Biology: Create Life. Estimate the differences in subsequent human culture if this form of life had developed 500 million years earlier, with special attention to its probable effect on the English Parliamentary System. Prove you thesis.

• Music: Write a piano concerto. Orchestrate and perform it with flute and drum. You will find a piano under your seat.
• Psychology: Based on your knowledge of their works, evaluate the emotional stability, degree of adjustment, and repressed frustration of each of the following: Alexander of Aphrodisias, Rameses II, Gregory of Nicia, Hammurabi. Support your evaluation with quotations from each man’s work, making appropriate references. It is not necessary to translate.

• Sociology: Estimate the sociological problems, which might accompany the end of the world. Construct an experiment to test your theory.

• Engineering: The disassembled parts of a high-powered rifle have been placed on your desk. You will also find an instruction manual, printed in Swahili. In 10 minutes, a hungry Bengal tiger will be admitted to the room. Take whatever action you feel appropriate. Be prepared to justify your decision.

• Physics: Explain the nature of matter. Include in your answer an evaluation of the impact of the development of mathematics on science.

     Ron said, “We assume you passed the test.”

     Albert answered, “More or less.”

     I asked, “What happened to your leg?”

     Albert said, “It took me 10 and 1/4 minutes to assemble the rifle.”

(Editor’s note: Once again, when considering the veracity of this journal, readers beware.)