Thoughts From the Front Porch

Occasionally there arises a man who breaks all boundaries of tedium and the ordinary.  The world is his toy, and he spares no effort enjoying it as often and as ingeniously as possible.  Rufus was such a man.   He was exemplary in so many ways.  His passing at a ripe old age closed an era for those who delighted in his scampish lifestyle and warm, friendly demeanor.

A former workmate and I were loafing between service calls on Birmingham’s Southside a couple of decades ago when Steve said, “Hey, you ever seen a mongoose?”    I replied that I had indeed saw several while in Hawaii, but didn’t know there were any nearby.  He explained that a friend, whom I’d never met, kept one in a cage at his place of business and let it out at night to keep down rats and snakes.

Within seconds Steve had reeled me in, and I innocently replied,  “Yeah, let’s go see his mongoose.  Ain’t nothing going on right now anyhow.”  Rufus met us at the door of his optician’s shop in Five Points South, and escorted us into a dingy workshop behind a curtain just beyond the store’s retail space.

In a dark corner stood a wooden cage, partially covered with a small blanket.  Rufus warned me to be real quiet while approaching the cage, and to move slowly as I bent over to peek inside.  No mongoose was in sight anywhere, but Rufus explained that he liked to hide behind the partition when strangers were around.   “See?  There’s the tip of his tail sticking out.  Just keep watching for a minute and you’ll see him start to move around”

Rufus urged me to keep a close eye as he began calling softly to the mongoose: “Here, baby.  C’mon out….Mr. Jerry won’t hurt you…..etc etc”.
Nothing moved, and I was beginning to think I’d never see this mysterious pet, until all of a sudden WHAM !!!!!—–The top of that cage flew open and I was attacked by a huge furry demon that moved like lightning.   I nearly jumped out of my hide as the hellish creature landed on my head, almost making me ruin my pants before it came to rest on the floor in front of me.

What had “attacked” me was nothing but an old raccoon tail tied to a cord.  Rufus had surreptitiously released a big spring on back of the cage, and his “mongoose” had claimed another victim.   Yep; this fellow was definitely my kind of man!

Steve later filled me in on the fellow, who was a next-door neighbor when he was growing up in Huffman.   He related from his earliest recollections that Rufus was always up to something.  Nothing was beyond his grasp or imagination when it came to having fun or showing out, and he included the neighborhood kids in as much foolishness as possible.

To the fine middle class folks of Sunset Lane, Rufus was a Pied Piper, Candyman and Three Stooges all rolled into one.   If something new came on the market, he was first to buy one.  If it didn’t yet exist but might be fun to own anyhow, he invented it.  Rufus was both the fly in the ointment and the spirit in the lamp.

Steve told of an old pickup truck Rufus had cut down to a bare frame, leaving nothing but the engine, dashboard, front seats, and whatever else it took to keep the thing together.  He used this contraption to haul a bunch of kids to the Banks/Woodlawn game at Legion Field,  all the while assaulting the peace and tranquility of numerous neighborhoods with the kids blowing those infernal plastic bugles that were later outlawed as hearing hazards.

I also heard of a party held in Rufus’ basement where, instead of the usual pinata routine, he gave long sticks to all the kids and then turned out the lights.  Steve still laughs about the countless bruises he earned that night.

Rufus’ optical shop was ideally suited for prankery, with a sidewalk across the storefronts to serve the little retail strip, plus another sidewalk on the other side of their narrow parking lot, and yet another just across the street; all three in plain view.  Rufus delighted in super-gluing coins to the pavement, and wore out several piles of plastic puke and doggy-doo.

He got the telephone number of the pay-phone booth across the street, and took fiendish glee in ringing it as innocent people walked by, then engaging them in totally ridiculous conversations when they answered.   Compared to Rufus, Alan Funt was a rank amateur.  Nobody would go further to engineer and execute a prank.

One day Rufus caught a little Geico lizard behind his shop and brought it inside, much to the dismay of his secretary.   Not willing to let such a unique opportunity go to waste, he spotted a pedestrian in front of the shop and waved for him to come inside.  When they came face to face, Rufus opened his mouth and the lizard stuck its head out, causing that poor fellow to beat a hasty retreat out the front door.  I said Rufus would go to any length for a joke—-the lizard had been caught off a dumpster.

One day I bought a brand new trick (I thought) from a joke shop in Homewood.  It was called Raccoon-In-A-Bag, and consisted of a battery-operated goofyball that you turn on then place it in a paper sack with a coontail protruding from the neck.  To everyone who saw it, the thing looked just like someone had cruelly tied a baby coon into a bag and left it to thrash around and slowly suffocate.

I hastened to Rufus’ shop to show him my new prank, but when I suggested we try it out in front of his place he offered to use his own Coon Bag instead because it had a fresh battery and was already broken in.  You didn’t get very far ahead of old Rufus, but I did see someone actually turn the tables on him.  Just once.

It was a hot summer day.  I’d been loafing in the optical shop for most of that afternoon, and even Rufus was bored.  He finally decided to wake up the mongoose.  After loading and cocking the devilish device, he waited for a proper victim to walk by.  He soon spotted four black teenagers who looked fairly safe, and met them on the sidewalk with one of his classic come-on tales.

He told them the Health Department had found out about his mongoose and was going to have it put to sleep, so if the boys wanted it they were welcome to take it home with them.   They bought the story, and the rest was fairly routine, at least until Rufus sprung the trap.

All four boys let out profane screams of sheer terror, and they all tried to go through the workshop door at once.  Sunglasses, Afro combs, pencils, pocket change, shoes, everything flew as these boys crawled all over each other trying to escape the mongoose.  Two of them ran around the secretary’s desk, and the other two took a shortcut right over the top, scattering business items everywhere.  Luckily, she was off that day or she would have surely been trampled.

By the time they’d passed through the front door I was almost paralyzed with laughter, and had to drop to one knee to avoid blacking out.  Rufus was in similar condition; both of us were having the kind of joyful pain that only excruciatingly funny things can bring on.   It came to an abrupt halt, however, when the front door banged open and one of the boys stepped in with a terrified, grim look on his face.

“Mistah, please please call a doctor.  Willy done had a heart attack!”  I’ve never seen Rufus so scared.  His face went pale, and his lower jaw trembled as if he’d heard the Voice of Doom.  This time he’d gone too dang far.  He made his way to the front door, his legs shaking so badly he could hardly walk, and peered outside to see what he had done.   What he found was four black boys laughing themselves silly.  One of them said something like,”Got you too, mutha—-”.    Rufus sat quietly, mopping perspiration with his handkerchief as the boys came back into the shop and retrieved various articles they’d lost while fleeing the mongoose.   They soon left, still laughing.  Rufus was no longer amused,  just relieved.

Besides endless pranks, Rufus was also famous for enforcing common courtesy.   Once, when a car stopped with its wheels over the painted crosswalk lines, Rufus simply crawled over its hood.  When an old pickup truck had been abandoned in the neighborhood way too long, Rufus painted “Sanford & Son” on the side of it.

He was always gentle-mannered and sincere, even while working his infamous mischief, and all the denizens of Five Points South knew and respected the man.    At one time he delivered  Post Herald newspapers, and saved the lives of some apartment dwellers when he smelled gas seeping from under their doorjamb.

He banged on the door until he got their attention, helped them to safety, and possibly averted a disastrous explosion.  Much closer to home, he administered mouth-to-mouth resuscitation to Steve’s father, who had  collapsed in the yard with a fatal heart attack.   Steve tells of how Rufus later became like a step-dad to him while he finished growing up.

Such people do not grow on trees but, like trees they eventually wither and die.  Everyone who knew this man has a different story to tell.  As each mourner passed his casket, they related a few of their own experiences to his widow.  By the time I’d arrived to add my own tales, it was plain the poor lady was almost worn out from listening.  I chatted a while with their daughter Paula, who worked for the same company as Steve and myself, then gave her something to place in his coffin.

She looked at it, broke into tearful laughter, and said she’d put it where it belonged.   It was a brand new Whoopee Cushion.

Views From Benny Hill is a series by Jerry Smith

Views From Benny Hill

Being awakened at four a.m. by things that go bump in the night is never pleasant.  Sometimes you’re not even sure you should turn on a light.  This morning, way before dawn, I was sleeping peacefully with a fairly benign dream going on when something jarred me awake and into full alert status.

Guardian of the Night

At first the room was silent, and I surmised it was just one of those useless awakenings that plague all us golden-age adults from time to time, but then what sounded like a life & death struggle broke out, right under my bed.

It was Clawdine, my faithful watch-cat.  She had caught herself a nice, fat field mouse, and was having one heck of a good time torturing it by allowing it to escape, then triumphantly stomping across the room like a miniature T-rex and pouncing on it again and again.  Since the mouse was now obviously her captive, she had no reason to use her basic cat instinct of quiet stealth.  I watched this literal cat and mouse game for a few minutes, then turned off the light and went back to sleep, surmising that she would soon tire of the chase and kill and eat the poor critter.  But this was not to be.

About the time I nodded off, she jumped onto my bed, released the mouse, then commenced chasing it all over the bedspread, using my body as a launch pad to pounce upon it.   I promptly shoved her off the bed when she caught the mouse, and turned over to go back to sleep for the third time.

On a normal day, Clawdine usually joins me as I rouse from sleep, coming up near my face and touching it with her paw.  This morning, however, was one she considered special, since she’d captured a fine trophy, and in the faint light leaking through my shades I suddenly perceived Clawdine’s face staring at me close-up, but this time she had a mouse in her mouth.  Well, that did it!  That dang mouse had to go if I planned to get any sleep at all before daybreak.

I turned on the overhead light and pondered how to put a stop to this mayhem.  My preference is .22 cal rat-shot, but they tend to mess up the floors and furniture, so instead I grabbed a fine old broom I’d inherited from my parents.  It’s very heavy, the kind people used to buy instead of those sissy little tubular sticks with plastic bristles.  This broom has a handle about an inch thick, and a heavy head of corn fibers bound with cord.   Assuming the attack position, I waited until the little varmint escaped the cat’s claws again and ran across the floor.

I brought the broom down with a mighty swing, taking aim at that mouse with the heaviest part of the broom.  In the final milliseconds of its deadly trajectory, however, Clawdine decided to retrieve her prize, and  shot out from under the bed.   This of course spooked the mouse, which turned ninety degrees and ran straight towards me, which led the cat directly into the mouse’s former position just as the broom came crashing down.

Fortunately, I was able to pull the swing slightly, but the broom’s wide end still caught Clawdine across the back and knocked her flat on her belly.   The mouse ambled off, no longer in any hurry.  Clawdine struggled to her feet and took off running to the opposite end of the house, which was a great relief to me because I was sure I had broken her back.

I found her a few minutes later, cowering behind the couch and refusing to come out. Can’t say as I blame her, since it was apparent I was trying to kill her over a stupid little mouse that she had generously captured and brought to me as a love offering.

She finally came out for breakfast this morning, showing no ill effects.  No doubt that mouse is still holed up somewhere, laughing his little tail off at the revenge he had taken on his captor.

Tonight, however, besides a highly-motivated pussycat, he will face an additional challenge; several spring traps set where only he can find them, baited with peanut butter-saturated cotton.

Clawdine and I will see who has the last laugh.

Views From Benny Hill is a series by Jerry Smith

Views From Benny Hill

What could be better than free stuff, especially in these days of uncertain earnings?  Fact is, the Earth gets bombarded with a tremendous amount of free energy from the sun every day, very little of which we use directly.   On a clear day there is actually enough solar energy striking every square yard of Earth to toast a slice of bread.   So how can we grab a little for ourselves?

For most, it can be as simple as opening the curtains.  In wintertime sunlight comes toward us at a lower angle due to Earth’s polar axis tilt, just right to beam free energy right into your home.  Open those south-facing “window  treatments” wide and let that wam sunshine in.   It doesn’t matter if you have storm windows, as this form of heat is mostly infrared which will go right through glass.

Any dark object in the path of those sunbeams will absorb loads of free energy and release it to the room later; that’s how solar collectors work. Floors made of dark ceramic or terrazzo are especially good for this purpose, but anything dark you can place in the light’s path will help.  Don’t believe me? Just set a black iron skillet next to a window and see how hot it gets.   This is the best kind of heat, folks; free and non-polluting.

Conversely, a white window shade or blinds placed on this same window in summer will reflect heat away from your living quarters.  No need to close them all day, just when the sun is shining into that window.  The sun cooperates by coming down from a much higher angle in summertime, so a properly placed awning or wide eave overhang can also pay for itself.

White blinds or shades, preferably the opaque kind,  also keep all that infrared from absorbing into drapes or curtains.   Dark window treatments, floors and furniture can soak up an astounding amount of solar energy that will be slowly released into your living space for hours after the sun has gone down.  If you’ve wondered why your home is still so warm after sundown, that could be the reason.

It’s an easy formula: hot weather–shut the sun out; cold weather– let it in.  You’ll save big bucks either way.

Another cheap way to dispose of excess heat is to simply blow it out.  It makes little sense to continue cooling inside air when the air outdoors is cooler, so why not shut off the AC and bring in some of the cooler stuff for free?  Well, nearly free, that is; the only expense will be a little juice to run a window or whole-house fan as opposed to several kilowatts for the AC.

A good indoor/outdoor thermometer is a godsend for manipulating Nature’s thermal bounty.  They can be had for less than twenty bucks at any hardware or WalMart.   Watchful monitoring of the temperature differential between out- and in-doors soon becomes second nature after you learn the difference it can make in your power bill.

First thing to do is calibrate your new thermometer set. This is as simple as setting it on a table with the outdoor sensor plugged in and laying next to the main unit.  Within a few minutes, both readings should be the same.  When you blow on them, the temperature should rise slightly due to the warmth in your breath.  If they don’t match after several minutes, fan them a bit, and if they still don’t match within a degree or so take it back to the store.

Hang the indoor unit at eye level on a shaded wall near a window if it has a corded sensor.  If cordless, you can hang it most anywhere, but the indoor unit should be placed where plenty of moving air can reach it to assure an accurate reading.  Don’t install it in a dark corner or on an un-insulated outside wall.  Somewhere near a central air intake grille is best.

The outdoor sensor must be mounted in open shade and free air, not touching a solid surface or too close to a porch ceiling which can radiate heat to it and cause a false reading.

You will be amazed at the differential between indoor and outdoor air at various times of day.  After sundown or in the early morning hours it will often be cooler outdoors in the summer than indoors. Unless the humidity is unusually high, shut off that AC and open some windows.  This becomes much more effective if you have a means of pulling this cooler air indoors in large amounts.

Good window fans are dirt-cheap, and can pay for themselves in a few months if used wisely.  Whole-house fans are even better, albeit somewhat more expensive.  Add a countdown timer to shut it off after a few hours, and you have the makings of a real air-handling system.

When using either of these devices, shut all windows except a couple at the opposite end of your house.   This will cause a steady stream of cooling, cleansing air to move through your whole home, carrying away ambient heat as well as accumulated pollutants.

If your free-air device is equipped with a timer, you can set it to shut off in the wee hours to save electricity and avoid drawing in morning dew.  Obviously, you would not want to use this system during the height of the pollen season or if rain is predicted.

Another inexpensive heat-helper is the ceiling fan.  Moving air helps to cool our bodies by bringing more air into contact with it, which in turn helps our sweat evaporate more rapidly.  Few people realize that we sweat nearly all the time in summer, even if it’s not actually dripping off our eyelashes.  Fans do not cool things off; they merely make people feel cooler because moving air dries sweat faster.  However, if the ambient air is more than 98F degrees, a fan will actually make you warmer.  Shut off ceiling fans if you’re not home, as the motor wastes energy and creates heat.

Contrary to popular myth, setting a ceiling fan to run in reverse during winter is not a good idea.  The theory is that it will suck air up from the center of the room, mix it with warmer ceiling air, and blow it down the walls to eventually mingle with cooler floor air.  In actuality, this method is more likely to make a cool draft down the back of your neck.  Better to run the fan on its slowest speed in a normal direction, i.e. blowing straight down.  That way, it pulls warmer air directly from the ceiling area and re-mixes it with room air.

Placement of your home’s main thermostat control can also make a big difference in comfort and savings.  Install it at eye level somewhere directly in the path of air returning to the intake grille. This assures the thermostat will respond more promptly to temperature changes, provide more even warmth or coolth,  and not run too long for each cycle.  The unit will cycle more often, but you will avoid temperature extremes that waste energy.

Another important point about thermostats: never place one where air from a floor or ceiling register can blow directly upon it.  This fools the thermostat and causes extremely short cycling.

Air-shifting is not just for your home; an automobile works the same way.  Leave a couple of windows cracked open about an inch in summer while parked.  When you start up, roll at least one rear window all the way down and set your AC control on Vent or whatever setting brings in outside air to mix with the conditioned air. Once the car cools off a bit, roll up the window and shift the AC control to Max, which re-circulates inside air with no outside being brought in.  Simple, but very effective in cooling a hot car quickly.

A lot of energy is there for the taking, folks.  With a little extra effort and common sense, we can get it for free.

Views From Benny Hill is a series by Jerry Smith

Views From Benny Hill

Of all mankind’s inventions, nothing outshines the wheel for simple, functional ingenuity. Unlike fire, which came to us free from the sky, or birds’ wings that we learned to imitate, there are no wheels in Nature. Round stuff, yes, but no wheels. When Man got his wheels, his horizons broadened. Wheels are like magic, allowing us to move huge loads with little effort. Even more magical, they permit a bicycle to roll down the road rigidly upright when common sense tells us it should fall over.  So how does all this work, anyway?

Before we get into actual kinetics, let’s ponder the invention of the wheel itself.  It’s an ancient device, going back to the earliest days of recorded history.  Though Nature has no examples of real wheels, it’s easy enough to conjecture that Stone Age men noticed that something being dragged over round stones moved easier than on rough ground.  No doubt they also cut trees into short logs for the same purpose.

But the real secret was not the wheel itself; it was the AXLE that finally set us to rolling where we had once only walked or dragged.  Round objects without axles are merely rollers, but if you bore a hole in the middle and poke a stick through it, you have real wheels.   Nature invented roundness; Man invented the Axle.

Some cultures like the Egyptians had wheels, whereas other much older cultures did not.  It’s no wonder the Indians at first thought white guys were gods.  I can just imagine a bunch of Spaniards rolling a wheelbarrow down the gangplank somewhere in the West Indies, and Caribbean Indians saying, “Hey! What the heck is that??  Sure beats dragging stuff behind us between two sticks.”

Wheels effectively multiplied our powers of mobility and efficiency.  As things got a bit more advanced and started rolling faster, we learned some very interesting, seemingly magical things, like the fact that a rolling wheel doesn’t fall over even if you push on it sideways.  It’s an effect that’s poorly understood by most folks.

A wheel doesn’t fall over because it’s moving in a straight line.  Like any other object, once in motion it will take a lot of force to make it change direction.  The real magic of a wheel is that while moving in a straight line it is also moving in an  infinite number of directions at the same time, but all in that same straight line.

Every atom of a wheel actively resists any effort at change in any direction except straight ahead.  Ever play with a toy gyroscope?  When the wheel inside is  spinning rapidly, any attempt to tilt it off-axis results in an equal push being generated at right angles to your nudge.  It tries to literally wrench itself from your grasp in an effort to restore all its motion back into a straight line.  The heavier the wheel and the faster the spin, the more resistance to change it can exert.

This force is sufficient to allow one to balance the gyroscope from one end of its axle,  parallel to the ground and seemingly defying gravity.  In fact, if you hang a  gyroscope by a string from it’s axle bearing, this same energy will make it slowly swing around in circles as the speed decays and the wheel begins to sag.

In actuality, what you’re seeing is not a true circle, but a very flat spiral.  Because of this sagging, the force generated is not applied at precisely 90 degrees, so the wheel moves in a slow circle as it tries to restore its straight line motion.  Give the wheel a motor of some sort so it doesn’t slow down, and it will hang in one spot forever.

Aircraft gyrocompass wheels turn at extremely high speeds and keep themselves aligned with any point you select.  Put two or three of them together at right angles to each other, hook them to the controls, and you have a device that’s capable of flying a plane hands-off along any course you select.

This directional inertia also works to our advantage on two-wheel vehicles.  Even at very slow speeds, a bicycle will not fall over.  At higher velocity, it becomes virtually rigid in its uprightness.  On machines that move much faster, this force is so pronounced that it becomes difficult to steer the dang thing to the left or right.

One of the first surprises new motorcycle riders experience is when they first try to turn a corner at any usable speed.  If you twist the handlebars to the right, the bike will lurch to the left, perhaps throwing itself into oncoming traffic in the process.  To further confuse new riders, at lower speeds the bike WILL turn in the same direction you push the handlebars, although very clumsily.

When you’re on a bike, you’re actually riding astride two heavy gyroscope wheels, both capable of exerting lots of force in their effort to stay in line with each other.  To turn at speed, you must push the handlebar slightly in the opposite direction.

This throws the two wheels slightly out of line with each other, which creates a counter-force at ninety degrees to the variance, which in turn tries to twist the framework of the bike in the direction you actually wanted to go in the first place; give it a little help by leaning your own body weight in that direction and, like magic, you execute a finely coordinated turn that feels perfectly natural and looks cool to onlookers.

Competition bikes can take corners at very high speeds, leaning into curves at really steep angles.  Were the rider to suddenly push the handlebars in the “right” direction, these machines would instantly turn into lethal piles of wildly gyrating wreckage.

Launch a well-balanced, spinning wheel into airless space, and it will turn in the same straight line forever, even though you can shift it sideways with ease by pushing directly on its axle point at exactly ninety degrees to the wheel’s rotational line.   Further, it will simulate gravity by using centrifugal effect to force everything toward the inside of its outer rim.

Like with real gravity, the faster the wheel turns the more you will weigh as you stand inside the rim with your head toward the axle.  If you then climb up a ladder toward the center, you will feel progressively lighter until you reach the axle, where you’d feel weightless.  [Note:  the correct term is centrifugal EFFECT, not centrifugal FORCE.  It's not a force, simply a way of expressing what happens when something gets flung in a circular direction]

Such great things came from the simple act of poking a stick through a hole, don’t you think?

Views From Benny Hill is a series by Jerry Smith

Views From Benny Hill