Tag Archives: Hospitality Management

Emmaline Speaks Up ©

Hello & Happy New Year, Everyone!!

Here is my first column of 2017. It gives a nod to my significant other and her love of college sports. She gets rather excitable to it politely and  it is that energy that makes me love her so…enjoy!!

My wife Emmaline loves watching sports on television. People who watch sports
with us call Emmaline an “energetic” fan. She involves herself in all aspects of the
games. She expresses her opinion forcefully about the fans, the players, the coaches,
and especially about the referees.
Emmaline was never a typical “sports widow.” On the contrary, I have always
watched TV sports so I could be with her.
When she was a girl living in a small town in Utah, all of Emmaline’s friends were
New York Yankee fans. Emmaline always supported the Brooklyn Dodgers. Emmaline
and her friends used to listen to the World Series every year on the radio—often skipping
school to do so.
As they listened, Emmaline’s friends ridiculed the “Bums” from Brooklyn and tried
hard to get Emmaline to forsake them. But even during the years in which the Yankees
built its World Series dynasty, Emmaline remained loyal to the Dodgers.
Her loyalty was rewarded in 1955 when the Brooklyn Dodgers were matched
against the Yankees in the World Series. The Dodgers won that epic Series in the
seventh game. The win gave Brooklyn its first and only championship in the franchise’s
history. After the 1957 season the Dodgers moved to Los Angeles.
Emmaline continues to be vocal sports fan. Every time the Letongaloosa
Community Junior College team plays Emmaline can be found in front of the television
set watching the game. She cheers enthusiastically for the players. She bemoans their
errors. But more than anything else, Emmaline vehemently denounces bad calls made
by the striped-shirted referees.
The phrases Emmaline uses to denounce the refs are the kind of made-up phrases
spoken by 1950s cartoon characters like Pogo Possum. She yells things like “Blagstag the
blag-stagging blaag staggers.” Emmaline avoids the kind of expletives and curses that
one often hears at a bar when a game is showing on TV. Emmaline is often vehement,
but she is never calumnious.
She is also a full service television sports fan. She gets physically as well as vocally,
into the competition. When games are close and badly officiated, our dog abandons
her place on the couch between us and lies down on the carpet across the room. I
remain on the couch, beside Emmaline, but I often place a thick winter cap on my
thigh.
One day recently, when a game was in the early minutes of the first quarter, the
doorbell rang. Our new pastor had come to call. He was making a “meet and greet”
visit. I answered the door, and Pastor Mark, who is a large, ebullient individual, grabbed
my hand, strode through the door and was in the living room before I could get the
words, “Perhaps another time, Pastor,” out of my mouth.
Emmaline’s jaw dropped, but she was true to her mother’s teachings about
hospitality.
“Please sit down, Pastor Mark,” she said. “Would you like some warm apple
cider?”
“Don’t trouble yourself on my account.”
“It’s no trouble at all.”
Emmaline had neglected to turn off the television, and by the time she got back
with the hot cider, Pastor Mark was sitting in our overstuffed chair gazing fixedly at the
game.
“This is wonderful, Sister. Thank you,” he said. Then, “I love basketball. I played
college ball myself before I went to the Seminary. Wow, what a game!” Then he took
off his coat and leaned back, his eyes fastened on the TV screen.
It was a very close game, and for the next hour and a half Emmaline raised her
voice only slightly, saying things like “Go team.” and “Oh, no, don’t do that!” Pastor
Mark used the same tone and the same phrases.
Then in the last seconds of the game, with LCJC ahead by two points, the other
team shot and missed a three-pointer. A ref called a foul on one of our players.
“Dammit! That wasn’t a foul, you blooming idiot,” yelled Emmaline.
Horrified, we both looked at Pastor Mark.
` “Thank you, Sister Emmaline,” he said. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.”
-30-

Dr. Larry day is a retired J-School professor turned humor writer. His book, Day Dreaming: Tales From the Fourth Dementia is available for purchase via his website: http://www.daydreaming.co

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Ned Goes To the Airport In Lagos, Nigeria

In the 1950’s oil was discovered in what is now Nigeria.  By the 1970’s Lagos was a sprawling megalopolis, and it seemed that every citizen of Lagos owned a car. But the roadways and infrastructure remained those of the African village it had been before  the oil boom.

My friend Ned Seelye had completed a business transaction in Lagos, and had booked a flight to his next destination.  As he settled his bill, the hotel attendant advised Ned to give himself plenty of time to get to the airport.

With what he thought was an excess of caution, Ned climbed in a taxi at 8 a.m. for a trip across town..  Ned and his taxi were caught in Lagos traffic for more than eight hours, and he missed his  5 p.m. flight.  True story.

Dr. Larry day is a retired J-School professor turned humor writer. His book, Day Dreaming: Tales From the Fourth Dementia is available for purchase via his website: http://www.daydreaming.co

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Bib Overalls ©

 

Fashion designer Amanda Pershing stepped out of a limousine and walked to the door of an exclusive New York City restaurant.  A doorman ushered her inside. The maitre‘d bowed her to a table for two.   A tall thirty-something man wearing a $7,000 Seville Row suit and $1,200 Croc Italian oxfords stood as they approached.

“Good evening Ms. Pershing.  I’m Laurence Carpenter.   Monsieur Mershonbom sends his deepest apologies.  His jet was diverted to Boston on a flight from Paris.  I’m vice president for marketing.  Please sit down.”

****

A rough hand shook Mandi’s shoulder.  It was cold and dark outside.

“Wake up, girl.  Git dressed. Then git out there an’ slop the hogs. Throw some hay down for the cows and milk ‘em   After thet ya kin  gather the eggs and make breakfast.”

Mandi sat up shivering. “Them are Jimmie’s chores, Pa.  Ain’t he gonna ‘hep me?”

“Jimmies gonna rest in awhile.  He gotta ball  game t’night.”

“I’ll miss the school bus.”

“Jimmie’ll tell  ‘em yer sick.  Ain’t nobody gonna miss yew no how.”

“Please, Pa, Miz Flowers said a pr’fessor from the U is comin’ to talk to our art class.  She’s gonna intra’duce me.”

“Don’ back sass me girl!  Now git out there and slop them hogs.”  Pa whacked Mandi hard with his open hand.

The school bus and Jimmie were long gone by the time Mandi finished cleaning up after breakfast.  Ma was over in Hopeville helping Ginger Anne with her new baby.  Pa was out in the barn working on the tractor.

“I think there’s a chance you could get a scholarship after Professor Ackermann sees your work,” Miss Flowers had told Mandi the week before.   “So whatever you do, don’t miss class next Wednesday.”

It was Wednesday and Mandi sat at the kitchen table, with her face in her arms, weeping.  Her art class came right after lunch and the Pershing place was seven muddy miles from Letongaloosa.  Then she raised her head.

“I’ll walk,” she said and stood up.

Pa came in from the barn.

“Where ya think yer goin”?

“I’m gonna walk ta’ school, Pa.”

“An’ whose gonna fix my lunch, Missy?”

“Please, Pa.”

“You wanna walk ta school? Well git, then.”

Mandi smiled and started up the stairs.

“No ‘mam,” said Pa.  “If yer goin ta go,’ yer gonna go  jist like ya look.”

“I gotta change, Pa. The Pr’fessor’s comin.”

“P’fessor be damned.  Ya’ll go as ya are or stay home,” said Pa, and stomped out.

“Look! Here comes the Prom Queen,” said Marilee Tompkins.

Students in the art class turned toward the door.  Mandi was ten minutes late.  She had stopped to wash the mud from her knee high rubber boots in the girls’ bathroom. Then she had pulled the legs of her pin striped bib overalls down over the boots. Her plaid men’s long sleeved shirt was open at the neck.  Mandi blushed and took her seat.

Professor Ackerman resumed talking about “Art in the Market Place.”

****
“Ms. Pershing, I took the liberty of ordering a bottle of Romanee Conti,” said Laurence Carpenter.  “I hope you approve.  The filet d’Rusindorf they serve here is superb. I thought we’d have that.”

“Please call me Mandi,” she said.  “The filet d’Rusindorf will be fine.  What Romanee Conti did you order?”

“The 1978.”

“Wonderful. That will be a treat.  Thank you.”

Over dinner they discussed the weather, the Knicks,  French cooking, the cost of chalets on the Costa del Sol, and skiing in Bariloche.  After they had had dessert and the table was cleared Carpenter got out a  mini laptop. He opened the lid and turned the screen so they could both see it.

“Monsieur Mershonbom loves everything you’ve designed for him.  He’s sure that your work will be the talk of the fashion world this season.”  Carpenter touched a key on the computer and the screen lit up.

“He’s absolutely ecstatic about this line of high fashion bib overalls.  He says the haut couture boutiques will go wild for them.  Then he’ll sell millions of down market knock offs in malls and department stores.  The rubber boot accessories are pure gold.   Where did you ever come up with such a marvelous fashion concept?”

“It’s a long story,” said Mandi.

-30-Dr. Larry day is a retired J-School professor turned humor writer. His book, Day Dreaming: Tales From the Fourth Dementia is available for purchase via his website: http://www.daydreaming.co

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