T.E. Griggs
  • About
  • Blog
  • B&W Gallery
  • Color Gallery
  • Sepia Gallery
  • France Gallery
  • Contact

Don't judge a jarhead by his clothes

8/31/2014

0 Comments

 
After all my years living all over the globe, I should know something about style, but I dress about as stylishly as a jobless slob on casual Friday.

My first attempt to dress in style came in 1954 or '55, when I made the boldest fashion statement of my life. It was the time of Walt Disney's five-part television series about the adventures of frontiersman Davy Crockett, and I was the first kid on my block to get a Davy Crockett coonskin cap. I was stylin'. Never ever since then have I worn anything so fantastic.

However, I came close about a year later, in 1956 or '57. I was an Elvis Presley fan, and I wanted to dress just like my idol Elvis. My mom helped me pick out a skinny, black, knit tie; a thin, pink belt; and a pair of white bucks – oxford shoes made out of white buckskin, just like the ones Elvis wore on stage. I was really stylin'.

Those years as a little kid were probably the only years of my life that I had some style. By the time I was a teen, I traded style for cool. That is, what I thought was cool. My favorite items of clothing were madras shirts and straight, narrow-legged, white Levis. That was in the early to mid-'60s. I lived in the middle of America, but I wanted to look like the Beach Boys.

Before I aged beyond my teenage years, I joined the U.S. Marine Corps, and the Corps issued me all the clothes that the Corps saw fit for me to wear. Most of the things – they were called uniforms­ – came in Marine green. Some of the items were khaki tan. Yep, I was stylin', gyrene style.

In about six months, the Corps sent me to someplace in Southeast Asia called South Vietnam. I didn't have to spend much time deciding what I was going to wear each day. It was basically the same thing, suited perfectly for combat in a tropical or subtropical climate, and I had two color choices – solid green or camouflage green.

After little more than a year in Vietnam and about six months in the States, I headed back to Vietnam, but this time I was to live and work in South Vietnam's capital city of Saigon, assigned to the U.S. Embassy there. Before leaving Washington, D.C., for Saigon, I bought some civilian clothes, including some plaid and checkered casual trousers. It was the latter part of The Sixties, and those loud pants were stylish. I thought they were, anyway.

I wore civilian clothes at all times during my year in Saigon, but if I wanted to blend in, my loud slacks didn't help. Not to worry. The Corps had issued me civilian shirts, trousers and suits from Bonds in Washington before I headed off on embassy duty. Oh, yes, I felt like a young diplomat in my Bonds clothing – not a stylish diplomat, but rather a young boring one, with short hair. What am I talking about? After all, I wasn't in Saigon to impress anybody; I was there to carry out an important assignment. I just wasn't going to look like James Garner or Sean Connery doing it. As if clothes could have helped me look like them.

In the early 1970s, I was assigned to the U.S. Embassy in Paris, France. Out came my plaids and checks, for I was in the City of Light, the capital of Europe! That was incorrect thinking on my part, because I soon learned that I was in the capital of many shades of gray. The French dressed drably, at least most of the men did in 1970 and '71. I could wear my loud pants, however, if I wanted to hire out as a clown.

Later in the '70s I got to throw away all my old pants and shirts. The style became bell-bottom jeans and pants and paisley shirts. Egads! Enough said!

I finally retired from the Corps in the late 1980s, and I settled into life as a full-time student at Cal State San Bernardino. For the next few years, I blended right in with my younger fellow students, wearing jeans, t-shirts and sweatshirts and carrying the obligatory college-student pack, except mine was an olive-drab, canvas, musette bag. That's like a small military pack. I just couldn't get all of the Marine Corps out of me. Once a Marine, always a Marine.

For a time after college, I was a mountain guide, and my style consisted of khaki hiking pants or khaki hiking shorts or cargo shorts or maybe jeans, along with low-top hiking boots and something breathable and quick-drying on top. After a few years of guiding folks through the San Bernardino Mountains, I began my 15 years in journalism, often forced to wear shirt and tie with casual slacks.

Now I'm free, baby. I'm retired and can dress as poorly as I wish. My retired-bum look normally features a well-worn t-shirt designed by the classy clothier Hanes and endorsed by legendary hoopster Michael Jordan; my khaki-tan, comfortable-fitting, hiking-jogging shorts sold exclusively at K-Mart; and a pair of old, beat-up, Nike Air jogging shoes. Man, that's style. More importantly, it's comfortable.

Who's up for a hike? Remember, don't wear anything fancy.
0 Comments

Life along the river ain't easy

8/29/2014

0 Comments

 
Picture
It looks like this differential grasshopper was either in combat with another grasshopper or escaped a predator. It's missing its right antenna and half of its right front leg. Differential grasshoppers have to watch out for all kinds of predators – birds, bats, snakes, lizards, raccoons, foxes, spiders, mantids, and the list goes on and on. This little guy, whom I encountered this week along the Kaskaskia River east of Carlyle, Ill., was about an inch and a half long. They can grow up to two inches. When I was a kid, I used to catch them along the edge of my grandfather's farm pond, put them onto a fishing hook, and toss them into the pond to catch largemouth bass. Big differential hoppers and plump bull-frog tadpoles were my best bass baits.
0 Comments

They're crunchy, crackly and tasty

8/9/2014

0 Comments

 
Picture
These are a few of the nutty things I like anytime, day or night. Get crackin', folks.

I'm nuts about nuts.

That line has been used probably a billion times, I know, but I had to say it. However, I won't use any more clichés. I will not write: Nuts don't get any better than this; these nuts take it to the next level; or those nuts are amazing. What does "amazing" tell you about nuts, anyway? It does not tell me how nuts are flavorful, healthful, crunchy, salty, earthy, distinctively delicious and simply scrumptious little nuggets of goodness.

Yes, I love munching on tasty nuts – I mean, peanuts, cashews, pecans, almonds, pistachios. Those are my favorites. I can't handle some nuts; you know, some are bland or bitter or just not tasty, but I think most nuts are delectable.  

Nuts are satisfying snacks all by themselves, but nuts also make for wonderful candy-bar ingredients or ice-cream toppings or homemade-cookie crunchies. And pan-toasted nuts are delicious, savory, crackly, exciting little additions to any dinner salad.

My favorite nut-enhanced candy bar, incidentally, is the PayDay peanut caramel bar. I've been enjoying PayDays for as long as my nutty brain can remember. When I was growing up in Lebanon, Ill., PayDays were made by the Hollywood Candy Company, about 50 miles away in Centralia. During the year in which I joined the Marine Corps, 1967, the family of PayDay's creator – Frank Martoccio invented the PayDay in 1932 – sold the company. It changed hands a couple of times, and PayDay is now made in Minneapolis, I think, by The Hershey Company.

I still must have my PayDays, no matter what, but I won't turn down a full-of-nuts Baby Ruth or a Snickers. I could eat a Stuckey's Pecan Log, too, but there's none of those famous Stuckey's roadside restaurant-shops in Illinois. Stand by, Stuckey's; I'll be making a trip Down South next year. Mmm ... pecan logs.

I eat a lot of Nature Valley granola-type bars with nuts in them. I get the ones that are mostly oats and nuts. Right now, I'm working on a box of crunchy Nature Valley pecan crunch bars. I like the roasted almond crunch bars, too. They are delicious and satisfying. Another good one is the sweet and salty cashew. I take a Nature Valley with me when I walk, hike and jog; that's why I buy them, but I end up sneaking them at all times of the day and night. Last night, before bed, I scarfed down a pecan crunch with a glass of milk. I'm so health smart. Pfft.

How about the nuts in a box of Cracker Jack caramel-coated popcorn and peanuts? Cracker Jack has been around for more than 105 years. The Cracker Jack boxes in my cupboard, of course, have not been around that long. They'd be mighty stale if they were, but I might still eat them anyway. Similar to Cracker Jack are toffee-coated Fiddle Faddle and Crunch 'n Munch. The latter is mouthwateringly tasty. I can munch a bunch of Crunch 'n Munch. Poppycock is another similar product, and it's original version is popcorn, almonds and pecans covered in a candy glaze. Yum!

Certain gourmet shops offer cheeky popcorn and pricey nuts. That brings to mind luscious  chocolate-covered cashews, but I don't want to spend $10 to $15 for a fancy little container of chocolaty nuts at a gourmet store. Hey, we don't need no high-falutin shop for to buy our nuts; we can just head to the Dollar General store. I stopped in today and bought a 9-ounce can of chocolate-covered cashews for a mere $2.35. Think they aren't delicious? Oh, I'm easy to please.

However, nuts all by themselves – not covered in something, not mingled with other things – taste heavenly and are so gratifying. They're the best, simply on their own. Don't forget the salt, though. Buy the salted ones. I won't listen to any foolish talk about buying unsalted nuts. I refuse to listen to any gobbledygook about the healthfulness of eliminating salt. My nuts shall be salty.

Roasting and salting enhances the flavors of nuts, bringing out the robust delectability of almonds, the exotic succulence of cashews, the savory pleasantness of pecans, the ambrosial delightfulness of pistachios and the American boldness of the little peanut. Plus, my nutty friends, that saltiness on your tongue, on your palate, is the exclamation mark punctuating the wonderful nutty flavor that is delighting your taste buds as you munch on a mouthful of your favorite salted nuts. 

Some of my friends, especially from the Deep South it seems, enjoy pouring a small packet of salted peanuts into a bottle of cola and consuming them together. They crunch on the peanuts and slurp down the cola, all at the same time, with one hand free to do whatever else they're doing. I believe that salt is an important part of the concoction, so the downing process calls for salted nuts, I'm almost sure. It all sounds pretty good. I've tried all kinds of edible formulas all over the world, yet I've never tried that one. I must put that on my to-do list.

Having served 20 years in the U.S. Marine Corps, I'm wondering why we never got nuts in our combat rations. We had no nuts in C-Rations, none in our Long-Range Rations and surprisingly none in our MREs – that stands for Meals, Ready to Eat – and you'd think that modern MREs would offer nuts. Maybe nuts could become rancid after awhile, no matter what kind of packaging they're in. That must be it, but nuts would be wonderful to crunch on out there in some jungle or desert or mountain forest.

Nuts are more than fantastic food, by the way. They make good gifts, too. Anne's best friend, Carolyn, always gives me a festively wrapped can of nuts as a Christmas gift. Last Christmas, she gave me a can of wasabi-soy nuts. They were sensational, spectacular, stupendous – way, way beyond delicious! My taste buds were calling cadence to the "The Marines' Hymn," and my stomach was processing the Japanese-inspired nuts with great joy. Yes, the highlight of the holidays each year could be the opening of my Christmas present from Carolyn, and she knows that whatever nutty gift she gives me, I would never regift it. Nope. I'll be noshing on your nuts, baby!

I can get away with eating nuts as snacks anytime, because I've spent years selling Anne on the nutritional value of nuts. They're full of vitamins, minerals, protein, fiber and those healthful fats. It's not like I'm eating potato chips, which I do eat. I adore potato chips. But I can come across as a healthy dude when I snack on nuts.

As much as I lust for potato chips, I equally crave cashew nuts. Back when I was in the Marine Corps, a fellow Marine advised me to take it easy on the cashews, because they were chock full of calories. According to the USDA Nutrient Laboratory Database, an ounce of cashews has 157 calories, while an ounce of almonds is 163 calories, and an equal portion of pistachios has 158. Heck, an ounce of Brazil nuts has 190 calories, and just an ounce of macadamia nuts packs 200 calories. Don't worry about it. Go nuts.

I know almonds are good for us, because I took part in an almond study in the late 1990s conducted by Loma Linda University, home to Loma Linda University Medical Center and Loma Linda University School of Medicine. I got to enjoy plenty of delicious almonds everyday for six months. I ate almonds on my salads, tossed them into a hot skillet with my wild trout, baked yummy almond cookies, and I ate almonds right out of the bag. The university bestowed upon me many bags. My resupplies consisted of lots of Ziploc bags of almonds, all packed inside a big, brown, paper bag. I was a happy guinea pig.

So, I graze on nuts all the time, and I can do so with no guilt and with the confidence that they are providing me with excellent nutrition while pleasing me with wonderful flavors, textures and snacktime gratification. Yep, I'm nuts about nuts. (Arrrgh, I said it again.)
0 Comments

Postcards from my life

8/3/2014

0 Comments

 
Picture
I mailed postcards to my parents for years, especially during my Marine Corps career.

I have always appreciated photography and geography, as well as art and architecture and civilizations and cultures. So, as I have traveled and lived throughout the world, I have often kept in touch with family and friends through a combination of visual images and the worldwide mail system.

Yeah, I'm a postcard person.

Letters with photographs enclosed are great – I've sent many during my life's journeys, especially to my parents – but postcards are fast and easy. They are also rather like beautifully visual and briefly informative little treats that show up in the mailboxes of those important to you. I think they are fun to send and fun to receive. Maybe I'm just a sentimental old fool, but I still like postcards.

While at the Trenton, Ill., post office recently, mailing some things for my dear mother, I bought a sheet of stamps for postcards. I decided that I need to send some summertime postcards. I've been slacking off too long – long enough that the postage went up again. Stamps for postcards are now 34 cents each. Postcard stamps used to cost a penny. Of course, that was before my time.

Postcards made their debut in the middle of the 19th century. After reading a few so-called histories of postal cards, all of which seem to differ a little from each other, I settled on the mid-1800s mark. Oh, also, apparently, postcards were born in Europe and here in America and wherever. For practical purposes and for this humble blog, let's just attribute the beginning of postcards in our beloved United States of America to the official act passed by Congress on Feb. 27, 1861. That would be the "Act of establishing certain Post Routes" – Section 13, of which, authorized the mailing of postcards.

Pushed through by the 36th U.S. Congress, the act's Section 13 declares: "And be it further enacted, that cards, blank or printed, blanks in packages weighing at least eight ounces, and seeds or cuttings, in packages not exceeding eight ounces in weight, shall also be deemed mailable matter, and charged with postage at the rate of one cent an ounce, or fraction of an ounce, to any place in the United States under fifteen hundred miles, and at the rate of two cents an ounce or fraction of an ounce, over fifteen hundred miles, to be prepaid by postage stamps."

So, there. You have been authorized to greet people through the U.S. mail using postcards, so get busy. Buy some beautiful postcards, and do not whine about having to pay 34 cents to mail each one. It's fun, and you will enjoy sending them.

Postcards can come in other forms – other than the pretty, hard-stock cards you write on – according to some people. Just ask singer-songwriter Sarah McLachlan, for example.

"My music and my lyrics are essentially emotional postcards," Sara is quoted as saying.

Who wants to argue with the famous Lilith Fair organizer, whose emotional ballads "Angel" and "I Will Remember You" are among my favorite songs. Call them postcards, Sarah; I'm with you, girl.

And I used to enjoy the "Postcards from Nebraska" from Roger Welsch every week on "CBS Sunday Morning." They were not postcards that I could hold in my hands. Yet, I could watch and listen and thoroughly enjoy Roger's interesting, insightful, folksy, six-minute, audio-visual reports – postcards, if you will – from Roger's hometown of Danneborg, Nebraska.

However, my postcards are real postcards, picture postcards, souvenir cards, whatever you want to call them. And I have been sending them since summertime vacations with my parents long ago. I began sending a lot of postcards after I joined the Marine Corps. Recently, while going though some boxes of old photos and papers in my mom's house, I found quite a few of the postcards I sent to my parents over the years.

I photographed those cards, and they're up there at the top of this blog. See the one with the Eiffel Tower? It is postmarked Sept. 14, 1970 in Paris, where I was assigned to the American Embassy. I wrote: "Dear Mom and Dad, Have started French classes every morning Mon. through Thurs. at 0930. Hope everyone is fine – I feel great! Will write a letter tomorrow. Love, Tom"

That sure does bring back memories. I had forgotten that my French classes were almost every weekday at 9:30 a.m. My teacher was a Parisian woman, and class was held in a room in the United States Information Services offices in the old Talleyrand Building in Paris. My classmates were a couple of other Marines and a few U.S. Embassy civilians. I was not a brilliant student, but my accent was good, as was my ability to order from most any menu in Paris. That was important for a chowhound!

Back to the photo collage above, do you see that portion of a postcard below the ship in the upper right corner? That's the Hotel Curacao Intercontinental, and the postcard is dated Nov. 20, 1973. On the other side of the card, I wrote: "Dear Mom and Dad, This morning we left Curacao in the Netherlands Antilles. The city was Willemstad. It was a great place to get good buys on watches, cameras and other imports. However, I didn't have much money with me, so I just went out to dinner two nights and had some good Dutch beer. Will be at Vieques tomorrow. Love, Tom"

As you can tell, the chowhound in me had my priorities straight. I wonder what I ate. I can't remember. Whatever it was, it probably included seafood, and I'm sure it was delicious!

By the way, that ship in the upper right corner is the USS Barnstable County, an amphibious assault ship that hosted me and my rifle platoon during our deployment to the Caribbean. The card is dated Dec. 7, 1973, and I wrote: "Thought you might like to see a picture of the ship that has been dragging me all over the Caribbean. Arrived in San Juan today. We will remain here for 3 days and then return to N.C., arriving there 3 days later. Love, Tom"

That was a great deployment to the Caribbean. We pulled liberty in Willemstad and San Juan! We earned it, though. Before Willemstad, we had to make it through Jungle Survival School in the Panama Canal Zone. And before San Juan, we had to conduct an amphibious assault of Vieques Island, Puerto Rico, followed by some hard-corps training on Vieques. Oh, before I forget, let me tell you that the chowhound in me enjoyed San Juan, grubbing down on scrumptious Puerto Rican roast chicken, some spicy Indian eats and plenty more I cannot remember. I do recall I also visited a rum distillery, where I savored free samples and bought a bottle of fine rum. But that's not why I don't remember everything I ate. I'm just gettin' old.

I should include Anne's native country in this postcard trek, so check out the card up there on the left that says "Hilsen fra Bardu," as in Bardu, Norway, above the Arctic Circle. That postcard was to my folks from one of my deployments to Norway. Postmarked Oct. 6, 1977, the back reads: "Dear Mom and Dad, The words on front mean "Regards from Bardu," the town where the Norwegian Army camp is located. Have been here since Sept. 28, and the Norwegian officers and men have been super. No snow here yet, but it should come in another month or so – after we're gone, thanks. Leave here Oct. 13 and fly south for an exercise near Stavanger. Love, Tom"

I can remember what I ate in Norway – fish, a lot of fish. And reindeer meatballs. And eggs. And fantastic bread. And potato lefse. In other words, I got to eat the things I always eat and enjoy in Norway. The Norwegians brew good beer, too.

I shan't bore you by transcribing what's on all those other cards. I know you have to get to the store to buy postcards and then to the post office to buy your 34-cent stamps. It's a really nice stamp, by the way, with a blue hummingbird. Write well, my friends.
0 Comments

    Author

    T.E. Griggs is a writer, editor and photographer and a retired U.S. Marine.

    Archives

    March 2022
    May 2018
    July 2015
    June 2015
    May 2015
    April 2015
    March 2015
    February 2015
    January 2015
    December 2014
    November 2014
    October 2014
    September 2014
    August 2014
    July 2014
    June 2014
    May 2014
    April 2014
    March 2014
    February 2014
    January 2014
    December 2013
    November 2013
    October 2013
    September 2013
    August 2013
    July 2013
    June 2013
    May 2013
    April 2013
    March 2013
    February 2013
    January 2013
    December 2012
    November 2012
    October 2012
    September 2012
    August 2012
    July 2012

    Categories

    All

    RSS Feed

Powered by Create your own unique website with customizable templates.