Observations of a Country Squire - by George Zidbeck
2013 and 2012 Columns
May, 2013 Pithy Musings
Love endures long following the death of a beloved. Would that grieving be short lived.
April, 2013 Pura Vida
Eons ago, I recall reading a travel story on Polynesia where the word aloha meant
hello and goodbye. It also suggested dozens of other interpretations depending on
the age and gender of the person using that word, the time of day, plus temperature,
humidity, and wind speed. Having recently completed a ten-
March, 2013 A Goat Named Suzy
A few times over the past couple of years of writing for the Slo Coast Journal, I referenced Norco, a rural unincorporated area in Riverside County, California during the mid 1940s. That time period in that locale, during my early adolescence, opened up many an unforeseen door for me. My life slanted in a different direction than one that might have taken place had my family remained in the Panama Canal Zone throughout WW II and beyond. When my father joined the U.S. Merchant Marines toward the end of the war, we had to leave the Canal Zone. My mother elected to take herself and her four children to one of her sisters who lived in California. In Norco, I learned about horses and cows, plus the caring for a range of domesticated fowl and rabbits. That 'country' education continued even after my mother moved her family of five out of her sister's home to subsequently rent elsewhere in Norco
February, 2013 One Squire's Singular Reflection
Approximately seventy-
January, 2013 Privies (Skip to the loo my darling!)
When I first entered San Luis Obispo County twenty-
December, 2012 Tale of the Novitiate Baker, 2nd Half
This past October, I shared with Slo Coast Journal readers an incident wherein I, at age 11 or 12, drafted a younger brother and sister to help me bake a cake while our parents were away at the movie house. Although that first effort culminated in a fiasco, my mother later helped me to bake my first cake.
November, 2012 Stones
Simply put, any earth or mineral matter hardened in a mass defines the subject for this column. And, no, I'm not an amateur geologist or lapidariast. I'm just a guy who loves stones. Sure, as a child I skipped rocks over bodies of water and hurled a few at running lizards, but not until I went to Colorado in 1947 at age sixteen did a love for rocks begin and continue to this day.
October, 2012 The Tale of a Novitiate Baker
It's likely that watching my mother cooking and helping her as a young child early
brought me to the notion that cooking somehow might accelerate my growing independence.
At least by age five, I could soft-
September, 2012 The Wayward Walker
Yes, it's true. Perversity all too often footprints aging. Not that everything goes right when young, but youth represents the beginning of the learning curve whereas we at the far swing of the pendulum often misplace or totally forget much of what we took for granted in our earlier years.
August, 2012 A Friend, Part Two
This past December's issue of the Slo Coast Journal introduced my friend of fifty-
July, 2012 Vanity
Ah, yes, vanity. Why everyone knows that "Vanity, thy name is woman." And it makes sense — to most men — when you look up that word in any dictionary providing more than two definitions/illustrations. Put vain before most feminine nouns, and you make that subject or object almost worthless. Or, describe a female's failure to achieve a notable feat, and you wind up with futile. You want to go with how a fashionista perceives her self? Then go with conceit and pompous. Well, what's a man to do or think when even a woman's magazine carries the title Vanity Fair? Shame on women; shame!
June, 2012 Nature's Oddities: An Overview of One Such
A local lady poet of note, Jane Elsdon, recently forwarded via the internet a series of photos taken around the world of various animals — insects, fishes, amphibians, reptiles, and a few mammals — who fit in so well within different environments that they achieve almost unbelievable camouflage. There was one bug omitted from the pictures, and it deserves our attention: stick insects.
May, 2012 Talking With Oneself
Seems I likely talked out loud to myself when a wee youngster, but just as likely I stopped yapping solo around age seven or eight, and began seriously and silently daydreaming. Could the serial paper 'funnies' and comic mags of the late 1930s have stimulated my quiet mental meanderings?
April, 2012 Going On a Dig
Even if I didn't formally study anthropology beyond a Bachelor's Degree at UCLA, and worked as a deputy probation officer after graduation, I kept my mind 'wet' the past fifty years by following anthropological studies in a mix of journals and catching updates as presented via TV — i.e. the Discovery, Learning, and National Geographic channels.
March, 2012 An Embarrassing Moment
Likely, now and then, here and there, we step into a circumstance unintentionally
and find egg on our faces with many a witness ogling our discomfort. Our cheeks
redden and, if the situation stimulates gossip, later retellings renew a facial flushing.
However, given my age and high level of maturity, I'm not prone to self-
February, 2012 A Barking Dog
Who knew the time? And why did I awaken? I had gone to bed about 9:30 PM, and certainly
had slept soundly for a stretch of time. Then, the sound of a barking dog barely
came through the double-
January, 2012 HOPPY NU JEER!
Pardon me for my misspelling — just an effort at informality and to make us both comfortable. To any insistent grammarian it might offend, please accept my apology. Language parsing and pronunciations aside, January 1st promises an individual the opportunity to change in some measure or achieve some goal long ignored. If we don't quickly and silently forget our resolutions, we often joke about our failure. But, whether keeping mum or joking, we get on with our misbegotten lives, then maybe next year make the same resolution or try a new one.
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