Episode #22: Old School

WARNING:  Dorky content ahead.  (Some might argue that all Circa Sunday Night episodes should come with this warning, but perhaps this one is dorkier than most.)  Tonight we’re going to take a peek into the exciting world of vintage school materials.  Yes, materials that were used in classrooms to shape the youth of yesteryear and prepare them to inherit the world.  OK, so this may not be everyone’s cup of tea.  It IS Jennifer’s cup of tea, though.  She was a teacher once, and made a very long career in the field of learning and development and instructional design.  Can she help it if she finds textbooks and teacher’s manuals as fascinating as other people find blockbuster movies or true crime podcasts?  No, she cannot.  So, here we are.  She brings us along as she unboxes a 1969 SRA Reading Laboratory Kit that is in near mint condition.  While we're in the late 1960s we examine one of the wackiest school films ever made—one that features some trippy magic pancakes.  We wrap up our old school tour by learning how to choose television programs from a 1955 textbook in Jennifer’s collection.  But wait, there’s more!  We learn about birthstones in tonight’s show, pay homage to willow trees in song, and continue our F. Scott Fitzgerald story in the Vintage Century Reading Room.  Are you still willing to tune in?  Hey, well then you’re Jennifer’s kind of person!  Sharpen your pencils and find your seats.   We're going back in time...and back to school.

References
McGraw-Hill SRA (Science Research Associates) Website
Winter of the Witch School Film (Magic Pancakes) on Youtube
New York Times Article:  "About a Witch: 1969 Film Touches a Generation"
History of BIrthstones
Clifford Brown with Strings

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Transcript

Tonight’s show comes with a warning:  Dorky content ahead.  Some might argue that all Circa Sunday Night episodes should come with this warning, but perhaps this one is dorkier than most.  We’re going to take a peek into the exciting world of vintage school materials.  Yes, materials that were used in classrooms to shape the youth of yesteryear and prepare them to inherit the world.  OK, so this may not be everyone’s cup of tea.  It is MY cup of tea, though.  Hey, I was a teacher once, and have made a very long career in the field of learning and development and instructional design.  Can I help it if I find textbooks and teacher’s manuals as fascinating as other people find blockbuster movies or true crime podcasts?  No, I cannot.  So, here we are.  Tonight I bring you along as I unbox a 1969 SRA Reading Laboratory Kit that is in near mint condition.  We then revisit what is surely one of the wackiest school films ever made—one that features some trippy magic pancakes.  We wrap up our old school tour by learning how to choose television programs from a 1955 textbook in my collection.  But wait, there’s more!  We learn about birthstones in tonight’s show, pay homage to willow trees in song, and continue our F. Scott Fitzgerald story in the Vintage Century Reading Room.  Are you still willing to tune in?  Hey, well then you’re my kind of person!

Cue the theme song…

[Theme song]

INTRODUCTION

Greetings to you!  I’m so glad you’re here.  How was your weekend?  Oh, I’ll tell you, I’ve been a little stressed lately and have needed the weekend to recover.  Olive was really sick this week.  She had pancreatitus, and the poor thing was pretty miserable.  And so was I.  You never want to see your dog suffer.  She’s feeling much better now, but unfortunately, the medication continues, and giving dogs pills when they aren’t eating food is a grisly business.  Once she got her appetite back I could camouflage the pills in those little chicken-flavored pill pockets.  Those work really well.  But when a dog won’t eat, you have to force the pills down their little throats, and oh, that’s rough.  There were wrestling matches that left Olive traumatized and me in tears.  Yeah, good times.  But, like I said, she’s much better now and taking her pills like a champ.  Life continues.

Actually, we spent a lovely afternoon out on the deck this afternoon, reading and watching the gold carts go by.  I love going out there in the warm months to read.  I just started reading a novel by Shirley Jackson called The Road Through the Wall, which I believe was her first book.  You probably know of Shirley Jackson even if her name isn’t familiar.  Did you ever read the story “The Lottery,” in school?  If so, I’m sure you remember it.  This is the one about the idyllic little community that has a lottery, and the “winner” gets to be stoned to death by their neighbors.  Yeah, that’s the one.  Well, anyway, Jackson wrote a handful of novels such as The Haunting of Hill House—that’s one you might know—in addition to other short stories.  She wrote one of the weirdest novels I’ve ever read called We Have Always Lived in the Castle that is actually really good—but unbelievably strange.  It’s about a young girl who may have poisoned her parents, aunt, and little brother.  I mean, truly a weird book.  Apparently this was recently made into a movie recently, but I’m not really interested in seeing it.  The book is worth a read, though, if you are interested in something really different.  Library of America came out with a nice two-volume set of Shirley Jackson’s collected works, and that arrived from Amazon the other day, so I’m diving in.  The novel I’m reading, The Road Through the Wall was written in 1948.  I think We Have Always Lived in the Castle was Jackson’s last novel, written a couple of years before she died.  She died in 1965.

Anyway, I’m going to miss my little deck and my little patio when the cool fall weather blows in.  Going out there is like having a little vacation here at home.  By the way, the Farmer’s Almanac is predicting a harsh winter for Missouri.  Great!  How accurate is the Farmer’s Almanac?  Does anyone know?  I think it’s supposed to be pretty accurate, right?  I mean, it’s been around a long time.  There must be something to it.  Well, I hope they’re wrong this time around.

Hey, tonight’s candle is a good one.  It smells amazing.  It’s Café Machiato from Kirkland’s, and it’s this yummy blend of coffee, chocolate, and vanilla.  It makes me think of Talenti Gelato.  They have a chocolate chip coffee gelato that is sooooo good.  It tastes like this candle smells.  Delicious!

So, should we get to tonight’s show?  Tonight we’re going back to school.  And I mean way back—long before I was actually in school.  We’re going to begin in 1969.  Now, I know this is a little later on the timeline than we usually go here in Circa 19xx Land, but you’ll explain why when we get to our first segment.

Ok, fasten your seatbelt.  We’re dialing up 1969 in our time machine.  And…we’re off!

[Time machine sound effect]  

SRAs

You’ve heard me talk about my love for antiques and antiquing.  That might lead you to believe that I am an inveterate collector—or worse—a hoarder.   That’s actually not the case.  I don’t get very attached to things, and I’m not sentimental about a lot of stuff.  I love beautiful old things, but if I lost all of the pretty old things I’ve acquired over the years, it really wouldn’t phase me.  In fact, just a couple of weeks ago I went through a major purge.  I went room by room, closet by closet, clearing out things and giving them away.   I had dinner with a friend of mine the other night, and when I told her I was getting ready to purge stuff, she said, “How can you do that?  You find so many unique things!”  (She and I have shopped together, so she knows the types of things I go for).  But the truth is, it’s easy for me to let go.

BUT…

There are a few things, though, that I will never part with.  My dogs’ baby teeth, for example.  Those are like little pearls.  I have a set of tapestry pillows I bought at Dillard’s Department Store when I was in high school that cost me a fortune at the time.  I loved them, though, and I kept them wrapped up in my bedroom closet.  At least once a week I would un wrap them, look at them, and dream about what my future apartment would look like when I could finally move away from home.  When I did get my first apartment, they were the only nice things I had for a long time.  I still have them, and while they are once again in a closet (I don’t really care for them any more), I’ll have them in the nursing home.  They represent a time in my life when I had such big dreams.  None of them ever came true—that’s the usual way with dreams, isn’t it?  Well, I guess my dreams of an apartment came true, and my pillows were part of that. So, anyway, those pillows are keepers.

There’s something else that I don’t think I will ever be able to part with—and I know you’re going to think this is weird.  I have a vintage, 1969 SRA reading laboratory kit that is in excellent condition.  It is complete, with all the parts, all the worksheets, reading cards, instructions for the teacher, and even—get this—a set of special colored SRA pencils still in the original package with unbroken cellophane.  They have never been opened—in over 50 years.  

I bought this kit on ebay, after having looked for one for years.  They do come up on ebay from time to time, but when they’re this old, they’re usually incomplete sets—and pretty gross, honestly.  Mine is complete and NOT gross.  It’s in near mint condition, and doesn’t appear to ever have been used.  Well, I mean the box it all comes in is dirty and discolored.  But other than that, it, too, is in great condition.  I paid over $300 dollars for it, which, when you find out what this is, you may think is crazy.  BUT this is one of those items I won’t be purging.

SRAs have great significance to me for a couple of reasons:

·        I don’t have fond memories of school, but I loved SRAs.  I excelled at them, and I could lose myself in them.  They are one of the bright lights in what was otherwise a sometimes dark time.

·        Secondly, as an instructional designer for many years, the SRA concept and approach had an enormous influence on how I myself built learning programs.

All of this is to say that SRAs were a big deal to me, and I am thrilled that I have a vintage edition kit of my very own!

OK, I know, I know…so some of you may be wondering, “What in the World is she talking about?  What is an SRA reading laboratory kit?”  Well, it’s just the coolest thing in the world, that’s all.

SRA is an acronym that stands for Science Research Associates.  They were a Chicago-based publisher of educational materials that focused on occupational trades.  I don’t know anything about these early materials.

But in 1957, they moved into the individualized instruction market with the SRA Reading Laboratory Kit, more commonly referred to as “SRAs” or “SRA Labs.”  This is what I care about.  SRA Labs were these large boxes containing color-coded cards with reading exercises printed on them.  The color codes were important, because those codes signified the difficulty level of the exercise.  The “Aqua” level was more advanced than the “Tan” level and so on.  Students would first take a test to determine what their current reading and comprehension level was, and then start the exercises at that level.  As a result, students could work at levels that were just right for them.  This is what is meant by “individualized instruction.”  Individualized learning is taken for granted now a days, with all of the technologies we have available.  Back when SRAs were new, though, this idea of learners at the same grade in the same class working at different levels was quite innovative.

SRA is now owned by McGraw-Hill—yes, SRA Labs still exist, and by now have been used by well over 100 million students.  Out on their website they have a brief history.  Let’s take a look at what they say…

In 1959, Don H. Parker, Ph.D. launched SRA Reading Laboratory while teaching in a rural Florida classroom. Faced with the challenge of reaching different levels of learners, Dr. Parker devised a method of breaking reading selections into color-coded levels. Students began reading at an appropriate reading level and worked upward through increasingly challenging content.

Oh, and here’s a quote from Dr. Parker:

“I wanted to find out how teaching and learning could reflect what I had learned in my beginning psychology courses about the normal curve of individual differences. I wanted, somehow, to individualize instruction. But how? One teacher for every child? Tell that to the taxpayers! No, it had to be done with one teacher and thirty or forty kids. And l kept asking myself—how?”

Well, here’s how…I’m going to take you to my 4th grade classroom so you can see little Jennifer at work on her SRAs.  This would have been in the late 1970s.  Goodness. If I’m remembering correctly (and, I’m probably not) SRA time was right after lunch.  Now, late in the school year, as Spring was just setting up to melt into early summer, and our minds were not on school at all but on summer vacation right around the corner,  our teacher, Mrs. Stickley, would turn the overhead lights off and open all the windows to try to cool our classroom down.  (No, we had no air conditioner in the school back then).  She would also have a tall, oscillating fan going.  And as it would rotate back and forth and back and forth, the airflow it produced would blow the little chord attached to the window blinds into the metal window frame on each sweep of the room.  The windows were open, so behind the sound of the fan you could hear birds and the occasional car passing by.

[Pause for sound effects].

Yes, we are getting VERY SLEEPY.  But school doesn’t let out until 3:20 in the afternoon.  We won’t be free for a couple of hours yet.  So, as I said, it’s time for SRAs.  

Mrs. Stickley kept the SRA box—a box containing all the materials we needed to do our reading exercises—at the front of the room beside her desk.  There were actually a lot of things in the box, but what we students were focused on were the cards.  SRA cards—actually these were called “Power Builders”—were folded in half to like little folders.  On the front of the folder there was always an illustration that corresponded to the story or article printed on the inside.  Following the story was a series of multiple choice questions aimed at assessing our ability to comprehend, infer, and interpret what the author had intended.  Each card was color coded.  The illustration on the front of the card usually featured the color code, but there was usually a tab or bar across the side of the card that contained the color as well.  As I had mentioned before, we were tested to determine which color we were to start with.  Earlier I had started at the Olive level;  others may have started at the Brown Level or whatever.  This late in the year I was at the Silver level, and there were 10 cards I needed to complete before moving on.  So, on this particular day, I walked up to the SRA box and made my selection.  I could choose any card at the Silver level I wanted.  I made my way back to my desk and began to read.  

The stories weren’t very long; just a few paragraphs—usually an excerpt from a longer text.  Of course, the annoying part of the exercise was answering the multiple choice questions.  I wrote the answer to each question in my student record book, a little soft-cover workbook that documented my entire journey from card to card and level to level.  Once I had completed the questions, I would go back up to the SRA box and find the corresponding answer card to grade myself.  How did I do on this particular day in 1978?  100%!  Hooray! 

UNBOXING

Let’s come on back to the present day and check out my awesome SRA Lab from ebay.  We’ll do a little audio unboxing.  For those of you who are new to Circa Sunday Night, I do goofy stuff like this often—you know, present information that is very visual in nature through an audio-only podcast.  Definitely not recommended, and the really good podcasters probably wouldn’t ever do that, but I do!  So, off we go.

Let’s take a look at all the materials that are in here.  Again, I don’t think these things were every used.  There are no creases, no tears, no dog ears, no pencil marks, nothing.  And there is a crispness about everything that seems like they had never been opened.  I’m not sure where this lab had been.  I almost wonder if it had been found in some long forgotten book closet in a school or something. 

Anyway, let’s start with the box itself.  I’d say the box is maybe 3 feet wide and 2 feet deep, so it’s fairly good sized.  Inside there are compartments in which the materials are placed vertically.  Think of like a recipe box where you have tabbed categories, and then the recipe cards are organized behind those tabs.  Or you could also imagine a file drawer.  Anyway, that’s how things are organized within the box.

The most obvious thing in the box are the cards, but those are the most fun, so we’ll look at those last.  There are also materials for the teacher.

·        The first thing I see is a booklet that says “Individualized Learning through the Reading Laboratory” Series.  This is for the teacher.  It explains how the system works.  

·        Next is something called the “Rate Builder Key Booklet.”  Now this is a set of little booklets for the students.  These booklets are tied in a neat little pile with string—so no, these have never been used.  I’m reluctant to cut this string.  This little packet is so perfect looking—and remember, this is over 50 years old!  I’m not going to undo them, but—I wonder what these things are.  I don’t remember them. 

Oh, wait.  Here’s a description:  The Rate Builders will help students learn to read faster.  They will also help them keep attention on what they are reading so that they can understand it better.  They will use the Rate Builder Key Booklet to correct your own work.  Hmmm.  I’m still not sure how these rate builders work.

·        Well, OK, so moving on.  Oh, now this is super cool.  Here’s a Student Record book.  This book is awesome.  This is the book where the student would write the answers to the questions on the SRA cards.  There are other things in this book, though.  There are self-assessment questionnaires on things like how well you study.  What else?  Oh, this is also where the placement tests are to determine what color is your starting level.

·        Now here’s that package of colored pencils.  What in the world are those for?  I have no idea.  I don’t remember colored pencils being used for anything, but here they are—still in a sealed package.

·        And now for the star of the show:  the cards.  Remember that recipe card analogy I used a bit ago.  You know, the tabbed categories and the cards filed behind each tab?  Well, that’s exactly how the SRA cards are arranged.  This kit has 10 color levels:

Tan  (the lowest level and therefore the easiest)

Brown

Red

Orange

Gold

Olive

Green

Aqua

Blue

Silver (the highest level)

What I can’t determine here is what grades we’re dealing with here.  The Tan cards are pretty simple;  The silver are fairly advanced.  Not sure what age range would be going through this kit.

DOING THE EXERCISE

Well, of course we have to try this out.  I want to pick a card.  Now, some of these cards at the upper levels are pretty advanced.  I want to do one that’s short, so I think I’m going to go for the lowest level, which would be Tan.  This one looks kind of cute.  It’s called “Hats Off!” by Ruth Pope.  Yeah, let’s do that one.  

This card is number 4 in the Tan Level.  On the front of the card is a cartoon drawing of a king and some knights.  OK, get your pencils ready because…yes, I’m going to test you on this.

Hat’s Off by Ruth Pope.

[Read Card].

Wow, so how about that?  We just completed a real-life lesson from 1969!  Well, this kit is definitely one of my all-time favorite finds.  To get a vintage kit like this that’s complete and in near mint condition is really something special.  Or, maybe you just have to be a nerd like me to think this is cool.

WINTER OF THE WITCH

And now for something really different…

You know I don’t like to venture through time after 1964, but we’re already in 1969, so before we leave it, and while we’re on the topic of school, let’s make one more stop.

And this stop is one of the strangest early grade school experiences thousands of American school children ever had.  Now, I think what I’m about to talk about is a uniquely American experience.  SRAs, while developed in the U.S., were also used abroad.  I know schools in the UK used them—maybe they still do.  But this next thing…I’m not sure, but I think this was just for us here in the US.

Two words for you:  Magic Pancakes.

Does that stir up any memories?  If you were in gradeschool in the US in the 1970s, it almost certainly does.

In 1969 a short film entitled Winter of the Witch was produced by Parents’ Magazine and distributed to grade schools.  The movie was shown in schools year after year, and by the time I was in school, it was such a staple that the older kids new the dialogue by heart.  There was something mezmerizing about this film—and something very emblematic about the late sixties.  It has a psychedelic quality.  People eat pancakes, and they experience euphoria and see crazy spots before their eyes.  Yeah.  This was a film shown in schools.  For YEARS.  Why?  That remains a mystery to this day.

Ok, so here’s the story…

A single mom and her little boy decide to make a fresh start and leave the big city to settle into a small town.  They meet up with a realtor to see what kind of house they might purchase with their limited budget.  The mother lists for the realtor all the things on her wish list:  a fire place, lots of light, plenty of room, and so on.  The realtor thinks for a moment, then suddenly offers the woman an amazing deal:  an mansion with 20 rooms and a fireplace.  She reminds him of her budget, but he makes her an unbelievable offer:  she can have the property for $400.  She takes it, and leaves his office with the keys.

The realtor is delighted—literally jumping up and down.  He calls his business partner with the amazing news:  the old haunted mansion that have been trying to unload is finally off their hands!

The boy and his mother arrive to find a dilapidated old place full of trash and jumbled up furniture and cobwebs.  They wonder how they will ever fix the place up.  Not long after the arrive they hear slow, ominous footsteps descending the old staircase.  It’s an old witch (and she is exactly what witches are supposed to look like:  she has a tall black pointy hat, is carrying an old broom, and is wearing a long black robe).  The witch informs the boy and his mom that she is 300 years old, and that this is HER house.  The mother stands her ground, explaining that they had just purchased the house and that they don’t want any trouble.  She alludes to the fact that they have just been through a lot of turmoil (I’m assuming she’s referring to her divorce, or perhaps the death of her husband), anyway, they are just seeking a peaceful place to settle down.

They have reached an impasse;  the witch has no where else to go, and neither do the boy and his mother.  The boy suggests that the witch live with them up in the attic, and everyone agrees.  The witch stays up in the attic for a few weeks.  Meanwhile, the boy and his mother fix the place up, and so now the downstairs is very bright and pretty. 

The mother hadn’t seen the witch for quite some time, but the boy had, as he had been bringing the witch newspapers to read.  The witch became depressed at how terrible the world had become.  The news was always bad.  She tells the boy how she longs for the good old days.  Let’s pick up the film from here.

[Winter Witch Part 1]

The witch is at her brew all night, and finally, when it’s morning, she’s ready to do the big reveal.  The little boy has fallen asleep in the kitchen, she’s going to wake him up, and when she introduces her magic pancakes, she says something I find very disturbing as an adult watching this.

[Winter Witch Part 2]

She calls these pancakes—and their psychedelic qualities—the “final solution to the happiness problem.”  Yes, that’s right.  Finding true happiness is just a matter of ingesting the right substances.  Goodness.  That’s couldn’t be more wrong.  This explains so much about my generation.

Ok, so the boy has tasted the magic pancakes, and we’ll listen into his reaction in a moment.  But this is where we come to the part of this film that is seared into the memories of people like me that saw this in school.  When people eat the pancakes, two things happen:

1 – We hear crazy horns play like this [play horns 1] or this [play horns 2].

2 – On screen we see all kinds of colored dots pop on an off the screen.  Yes, it’s very trippy.  So wild.  

Ok, so remember, the boy has just popped a forkful of pancakes into his mouth.

[Winter Witch clip 3]

The pancakes are amazing, and of course the witch promises that they will make even the most unhappy people happy again.  It doesn’t take long to test that theory.  Two old ladies arrive at the front door.  We soon discover that these ladies are nasty busy bodies that are just nosing around trying to see what is going on in the house.  The mother decides what these crabby ladies need is a little magic.

[Winter Witch clip 4]

Wow, so just on the spot the mother decides to open up a pancake parlor.  

[Play background music]

They spend the next day setting everything up.  In the dining room they arrange several tables and chairs.  (It’s really handy that this is a huge house so they have the space to set up a little restaurant).  Anyway, they send out invitations to everyone in the neighborhood, and everyone comes to try the pancakes.  Of course, everyone is deliriously happy, laughing and even dancing.  I think at one point people are throwing confetti.  It’s like the most awesome, wholesome trip anyone has ever been on.  Word travels, and soon people are coming from miles around for these magic pancakes.

This is a lucky development for everyone.  The witch now has purpose and people around her again.  She’s no longer sad and isolated.  The boy and his mother have a new stream of income and stability.  At one point the mother tells her son that they are now in the happiness business.  Watch out, Disneyland, the happiest place on earth isn’t in California or Florida any more—it’s in this pancake parlor.  And, of course, the customers are happy.  They can leave their cares behind once they’ve been served a plate of magic pancakes.

The witch is also part of the family now.  Here is how the story ends…

[Winter Witch clip 6]

Yeah, again, sort of disturbing message, here, in my opinion.  The witch here says she gave the people something to believe in.  Pancakes.  Wild.

This is a short film, about 25 minutes in length, and like I said, it was shown year after year in school.  No one seems to be clear on exactly where the educational value is here, but as a kid, I didn’t care about educational value.  I loved this film at the time, and so did everyone I knew.  There was something about it that cranked up our imaginations—and unlike the many other films shown in school, this is the one that people remember.

The New York Times even had an article about this film back in 2011.  And I think this article really captures this crazy phenomenon.  Here’s an excerpt.  Let’s see…this was written by Jennifer Mendolson.  Her article is called “Something About a Witch: 1969 Film Touches a Generation.”

FOR years, Scott Murdock was haunted by a cinematic image fluttering at the periphery of his memory. It involved a witch. She was serving pancakes. And there were lots of colorful bubbles floating over the screen.

He couldn’t shake the vision from his mind. Yet he had no idea where it came from.

“Everybody I asked about it thought I was nuts,” said Mr. Murdock, a 41-year-old computer programmer in Kansas City, Mo.

He wasn’t alone. In Madison, Wis., Ann Imig, a 37-year-old humorist, had a similarly unsettling memory. “I would ask people, ‘Don’t you remember that movie with the witch and the magical blueberry pancakes?’ ” she recalled. “They’d say, ‘No, Ann, you’re high.’ ”

Repeated queries and, for some, years of online sleuthing confirmed that the film is real: a 1969 short entitled “Winter of the Witch.” The film, now easy to track down on the Internet, is being discovered by a generation of adults in their 30s and 40s with a fervor more typically associated with locating a long-lost relative than a kiddie movie.

Based on a 1963 children’s picture book called “Old Black Witch,” the movie stars Anna Strasberg (wife of the late Lee Strasberg of Method acting fame) as a single mother who moves with her young son into a country house haunted by a witch, played by the velvet-voiced Hermione Gingold. The witch turns out to have a handy knack for cooking pancakes that make people instantly happy, as illustrated by a blast of circus music and a burst of colorful bubbles crudely superimposed on the screen.

The first project of Parents’ Magazine Films and the producer Thomas Sand, “Winter of the Witch” was distributed by the Learning Corporation of America to schools nationwide (though just what its educational message was supposed to be is unclear to its many fans). Countless thousands of students watched it on old-fashioned projectors in gyms and libraries and auditoriums; for many it was a favorite rainy day activity or a Halloween treat.

By all rights the quirky little production should have faded away, just like the quaintly dated turtlenecks and headscarves it features. But something about “Winter of the Witch” burrowed its way into the consciousness of a subset of children who saw it, and it never left, leading many to search for it well into adulthood.

“Those colored dots must have burned themselves into some peoples’ brains,” wrote Gerald Herman, who directed the low-budget film for $500 while a student at New York University, in an e-mail. He now runs an art-house cinema in Hanoi, Vietnam.

Certainly the psychedelic dots make the movie all the more intriguing for grown-ups. “It was obviously a drug film,” proclaimed one viewer online. Another gleefully recalled the “magic trippy pancakes” and added, “What I love most about this movie is that somehow our schoolteachers felt this was a reasonable movie to show in school year after year.”

Mr. Herman, the director, dismissed the notion of any latent drug theme.

“Magic food that gives people a rush and makes everyone happy,” he joked. “Definitely an educational message there! But seriously, we didn’t have any hidden agenda while making the movie.  This was Parents’ Magazine, after all.”

This Winter Witch is readily available online, so I’ll post links to the full New York Times article and the film on youtube in tonight’s show notes.  Talk about a blast from the past!

TEXTBOOK COLLECTION

Let me describe my home office for you.  It’s different than every other room in my house.  My whole house is decorated in a very traditional style, with antiques all around.  I gravitate toward old things from our era here in Circa 19xx Land—the first half of the 20th century, but I have a couple of things that date to the late Victorian period.  I actually have a sweet little picture of a pretty girl holding a dog that dates back to the Civil War.  I believe that’s the oldest item I have.  But, I have a lot of new furniture, too, that is very traditional.  That’s me, in a nutshell.

My office, though, is different.  It is decorated with a nod toward Mid-Century Modern.  I have some vintage items in there—a lot of Disney stuff, including vintage Disney.  I have this cool plate on the wall in there that was a 1960s-era souvenir from Marceline, Missouri—the childhood home of Walt Disney.  That’s one of my favorite items.  But I also have some artifacts from the 1962 and 1964 World’s Fairs in Seattle and New York respectively.  There are double doors that open into my office from my downstairs family room, and when you open them, you walk into another era entirely.

In that quirky space is a shelf lined with mid-century textbooks.  You know that I was once a high school teacher—this was a very long time ago, and I didn’t teach very long.  As I mentioned earlier, I made a career in the corporate world, first for many years as an instructional designer, and for the last 15-20 years a manager of training departments.  I’ve been around learning and instructional my entire life—as a student, as a teacher, and as a corporate learning & development professional.  So, I can’t help it that I’m a bit of textbook nerd.  (Need I remind you that I spent over $300 on that SRA kit we toured earlier in tonight’s show?  Who else would do that other than a textbook nerd?)  

I particularly like teacher’s editions, but I have some student editions, too.  The first vintage textbook I ever purchased is still my favorite.  It’s a mint-condition, never before opened 1955 high school English textbook called “Building Better English.”  This is for the 10th grade, so it would have been for Sophomores.  My mom and I had taken a short road trip from Topeka, Kansas, where my parents lived at the time, to Paxico, Kansas, a small town about a half hour away.

Now, I haven’t been to Paxico in years, but back then they had some antique shops—and not much else.  This was a town that primarily existed in name only—or at least that’s how it seemed.  You would drive along this dirt road, and come to this kind of intersection with a couple of old store fronts.  Inside were antique shops.  

On this particular day that my mom and I drove in, they were having some sort of summer fair, and there were lots of tables set out for a flea market.  I spotted this text book on one of the tables—and if I remember correctly, it was $2.00.  I couldn’t believe this book.  It was brand new looking.  The cover was old fashioned, but looked as if it had been printed yesterday.  When I opened it up, it was stiff and crisp as if it had never been opened before.  So, of course, I snapped it up. I pulled this book from its place on the shelf in my office, and here it is in my hands.

Let me describe this book to you.  The cover is yellow, and it has several black and white images of students doing stuff—looking at magazines, talking…one guy is looking through a telescope.  What’s awesome about these images, of course, are the fashions the students are wearing.  The girls are all wearing long skits with bobby socks and loafers.  The boys are wearing dungarees with rolled cuffs or casual pants.  I love that.

If we take a tour of the contents we can see that the book is split into sections.  

Section I has chapters about Speaking and Listening Skills

Section 2 is all about Writing Skills

Section 3 is focused on Reading

Section 4 is called “Building Sentences”  This is all the grammar stuff.

I think the most interesting sections are the ones on Writing and Reading.  There are chapters on things like how to write social letters.  Lessons include “Writing the chatty friendly letter,” “Writing apologies,” “Writing excuses,” “Writing travel letters or postcards,” “Writing letters of thanks,” “Writing condolences,” and “Writing congratulatory letters.”  

Oh, wait, those are the social letters.  There are also lessons on writing business letters, like “Writing letters of complaint,”  writing application letters,” and so on.

There’s also a chapter entitled “ Writing for Fun.”  Oh, let’s check that one out.  [flip through]  Oh, you should see the fantastic illustrations in here.  They are classic 1950s cartoon illustrations.  I just love them.

OK, here is a guide for finding ideas for original writing:

1.       Look within yourself – You yourself are the best source of writing material.  What do you know more about than you know about yourself?  You know the experience that you have had, your likes and dislikes, your ideals, your observations, and so on.

2.       Observe what goes on around you.  Call into use your five senses.  Open your eyes and ears.  Train your senses of touch, smell, and taste to be acute.  Make use of the scenes that you observe every day, the people whom you see, and the routine actions that are typical of daily life.

3.       Tap the newspaper and other reading material for suggestions.  News articles often suggest ideas that can be turned into stories, descriptions, or explanations.  Sometimes a story, an essay, a travelogue, or the like will furnish ideas.

4.       When all else fails, use your imagination.  Your knowledge of history, science, and geography will help you to recreate interesting past events and look into the future.

Only use your imagination when all else fails.  Good advice.

Oh, now here’s something interesting.  There’s a lesson on choosing Radio and Television programs.  Oh, and one on how to view motion pictures.  Let’s take a look at these.

Ok, here’s the section on Selecting television programs.  

1.       Try to find programs that will broaden your knowledge and interest in your school subjects.  Be alert to find broadcasts and telecasts of novels, biographies, plays, operas, or historical events.  Also look for programs dealing with science, art, foreign countries, and languages, or current events.

2.       Search for new programs that you think may develop into feature programs.  Search also for new performers that you think may become stars.

3.       Don’t tune into a program purely from habit.  If you vary your selections, you may find some happy surprises!

How charming this is.

There are also some tips for reviewing television programs with a critical eye.

4.       When watching programs that feature dance orchestras, consider why the orchestra is a good one.  Is it because of its style of arrangements, its specialties, its vocalists, its leader, or a combination of all four?

5.       If watching sports events, consider whether or not the announcer really knows the sport.  Does he describe vividly and enthusiastically things as they happen?  Does he convey to you the reactions of the audience?

6.       If watching comedy, is the humor clever and original?  Is it in good taste, or does it depend upon insults, slapstick, or questionable topics?

7.       If watching classical music programs, do the orchestra and the conductor seem highly skilled?  Do the announcer’s comments help you to understand the music?  Are the programs so selected and presented that they help you to appreciate classical music?

8.       In all programs that you listen to, judge the sponsor’s advertising.  He is entitled to your attention, especially so if his advertising is brief, appropriately placed, and moderate in tone.  Much advertising is entertaining and clever in itself.  Recognize and condemn advertising that is too long, that disrupts the programs, or that is irritatingly loud or repetitious.

Let’s see what they say about motion pictures.  “Not all motion pictures are worth while.  Some of them depict the lives of gangsters or notorious outlaws in a sympathetic way.  Such pictures glamorize crime and make a hero of a criminal who in real life caused many innocent people to suffer.  Other pictures appeal to, or foster, harmful prejudices.  Still others give a young person false standards of living so that he becomes dissatisfied with his own home life, appearance, clothes, or friends.”  Honestly, that’s pretty good advice, isn’t it?

Wow, you look at this and it seems like a different planet, doesn’t it.  Everything is so different now.  But anyway, this is a great book.  There are chapters on parliamentary procedures, presentation skills, facilitating discussions, and even taking part in discussions.  Pretty useful stuff that served to prepare these young students of 70 years ago for their world.

Our old school adventures have come to an end this evening.  The next time you’re in an antique shop and you see some old textbooks, don’t just dismiss them. Nothing will transport you in time like reading through these lessons from a bygone era.

BIRTH STONES

Hey, have you ever been curious about something, looked it up on the Internet, and then fallen down a rabbit hole of information that took you to strange places?  This happens to me all the time.  This next segment was really born of just such an adventure.

I met a woman earlier this week who was wearing the most beautiful garnet ring.  I don’t really wear rings, but I love garnets.  I think that’s my favorite gemstone.  Right before COVID came along I was in Prague on a work trip, and they have garnets everywhere.  I bought my niece a pair of earrings there, and they are just the most perfect dark blood red.  I know, that sounds kind of macabre, but that color is so deep and beautiful.  I just love them.  Anyway, I wanted to find out more information about garnettes, so I Googled them, and an hour later I found myself on the gemsociety.org website reading all about birth stones.  

Did you know…that while the concept of birth stones dates back to Biblical times, there wasn’t really any consensus as to which stones should be associated with which months until 1912.  That’s when the National Association of Jewelers met to officially standardize the list of American birthstones and each month they represented.  According to the International Gem Society,  “This list combined various customs that had evolved over time while ensuring the stones they chose would be practical for American jewelers to sell and promote in large quantities. It was then modified in 1952 by the Jewelry Industry Council of America, adding alexandrite to June, citrine to November, pink tourmaline to October, and zircon to December. Although the list has nearly remained the same since then, in 2002 the gem Tanzanite was added to December’s stones, and just as recently as 2016 spinel was added to the month of August.”

So there are two birthstone lists.  The traditional list dating back (I guess) to 1912 is as follows:

January — Garnet

February — Amethyst

March — Bloodstone

April — Diamond

May — Emerald

June — Pearl

July — Ruby

August — Sardonyx

September — Sapphire

October — Opal

November — Topaz

December — Turquoise or Lapis

And here’s the modern list:

January — Garnet

February — Amethyst

March — Aquamarine

April — Diamond

May — Emerald

June — Alexandrite

July — Ruby

August — Peridot or Spinel

September — Sapphire

October — Tourmaline

November — Golden Topaz or Citrine

December — Blue Zircon, Blue Topaz, or Tanzanite

Now you know how to shop for the upcoming holidays.  You’re welcome.

[Edythe Baker’s recording of Ann Ronnell’s “Willow Weep for Me.”

WILLOW WEEP FOR ME

Oh, that was nice, wasn’t it?  That was a 1933 recording of Edythe Baker playing a song by Ann Ronnell, “Willow Weep for Me.”  

I was thinking about this song yesterday and thought it would be perfect for our show.  I went to a park for a long walk, and while on that walk I saw the most beautiful thing.  The walking trail wound around a small lake, and at one point along the trail there were a little cluster of weeping willows, with their branches drooping over the water.  It was so lovely.  Someone told me a long time ago that weeping willows die easily, so they aren’t a great tree to plan in your yard.  I have no idea if that’s true, and I don’t even remember who told me that, but regardless, I think that’s my favorite tree.  Every time I see weeping willows, I think of that beautiful song. My dad introduced me to it when I was still living at home with my parents.  This is a melancholy little piece.  There are lyrics to it, though I don’t think I’ve ever heard them sung.  Let’s see, did Ann Ronnell write the music and the lyrics?  Yes, yes she did.  Here they are:

Willow weep for me, willow weep for me

Bend your branches green along the stream that runs to sea

Listen to my plea, listen willow weep for me

Gone my lover's dream, lovely summer dream

Gone and left me here to weep my tears into the stream

Sad as I can be, hear me willow and weep for me

Whisper to the wind to say that love has sinned

To leave my heart aching and making this moan

Murmur to the night to hide her starry light

So none will find me sighing and crying all alone

Weeping willow tree, weep in sympathy

Bend your branches down along the ground and cover me

When the shadows fall, bend oh willow and weep for me

To leave my heart aching and making this moan

So none will find me sighing and crying all alone

Weeping willow tree, weep in sympathy

Bend your branches down along the ground and cover me

When the shadows fall, bend oh willow

Bend oh willow and weep for me.

Yes, a very sad little song.  Now, the Edythe Baker version is not the one I knew.  It’s not the one my dad introduced to me.  The version I know best if from 1955 (yes, the same year our English Textbook from earlier this evening was published.)  My dad gave me a CD called “Clifford Brown with Strings,” which, by the way, is one of the most spectacular recordings you will ever hear.  On that CD is Brown’s version of Willow Weep for Me, and it is—again, spectacularly beautiful.

Clifford Brown was a jazz trumpeter who died far too young—at age 25—in a car accident.  “Clifford Brown with Strings” is a jazz album—considered a classic—but it has a really sweet, lyrical quality because of the string accompaniment.  This recording is available for free all over the Internet, but you may not have heard it before, so I’m going to play it for you here.  Enjoy this wonderful piece from 1955.

[Willow week for me]

How very lovely that is.  I think I read somewhere that Clifford Brown only left us with four years worth of recordings.  That’s a real tragedy.  Hey, by the way, do check out this full album.  It’s full of wonderful songs, including one that I claimed as my personal anthem growing up, “Portrait of Jenny.”

OK, well, It’s getting late, our eyes are getting heavy, you know what that means…it’s time to step into the Vintage Century Reading Room…

[Theme Song]

As you recall, we’re reading F. Scott Fitzgerald’s story “The Cut Glass Bowl.”  Remember that this story is following the married life of Evelyn and Harold Piper.  The bowl of the title was a wedding gift given to the Pipers, and as we follow their lives, the bowl keeps factoring into the drama in one way or another.  When we left off, the Pipers were having a dinner party.  Their fortunes have taken a bit of a turn.  Harold informs Evelyn that their firm, Piper Brothers, was being merged with the Clarence Ahearn Company to form the Ahearn Piper Company.  As Fitzgerald informs us, to Eveyln, this seemed like taking a step down in the world.  The Ahearns are coming to this dinner party.  So what role does the bowl play?  It is in this bowl that they will be serving alcoholic punch.  Evelyn didn’t want to use this bowl;  it was too big and she was afraid everyone would get drunk.  She wanted to use a smaller bowl.  But Harold insisted on the big cut glass bowl.  Here is the last paragraph of the story from last time:

“Harold grasped the smaller bowl to lift it back. Instantly her hands were on it, holding it down. There was a momentary struggle, and then, with a little exasperated grunt, he raised his side, slipped it from her fingers, and carried it to the sideboard.

She looked at him and tried to make her expression contemptuous, but he only laughed. Acknowledging her defeat but disclaiming all future interest in the punch, she left the room.”

OK, so now we’re ready for part III of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s “The Cut Glass Bowl.”  Let’s pick back up where we left off at the dinner party.

***

At seven-thirty, her cheeks glowing and her high-piled hair gleaming with a suspicion of brilliantine, Evylyn descended the stairs. Mrs. Ahearn, a little woman concealing a slight nervousness under red hair and an extreme Empire gown, greeted her volubly. Evelyn disliked her on the spot, but the husband she rather approved of. He had keen blue eyes and a natural gift of pleasing people that might have made him, socially, had he not so obviously committed the blunder of marrying too early in his career.

"I'm glad to know Piper's wife," he said simply. "It looks as though your husband and I are going to see a lot of each other in the future."

She bowed, smiled graciously, and turned to greet the others: Milton Piper, Harold's quiet, unassertive younger brother; the two Lowries, Jessie and Tom; Irene, her own unmarried sister; and finally Joe Ambler, a confirmed bachelor and Irene's perennial beau.

Harold led the way into dinner.

"We're having a punch evening," he announced jovially—Evylyn saw that he had already sampled his concoction—"so there won't be any cocktails except the punch. It's m' wife's greatest achievement, Mrs. Ahearn; she'll give you the recipe if you want it; but owing to a slight"—he caught his wife's eye and paused —"to a slight indisposition; I'm responsible for this batch. Here's how!"

All through dinner there was punch, and Evylyn, noticing that Ahearn and Milton Piper and all the women were shaking their heads negatively at the maid, knew she had been right about the bowl; it was still half full. She resolved to caution Harold directly afterward, but when the women left the table Mrs. Ahearn cornered her, and she found herself talking cities and dressmakers with a polite show of interest.

"We've moved around a lot," chattered Mrs. Ahearn, her red head nodding violently. "Oh, yes, we've never stayed so long in a town before—but I do hope we're here for good. I like it here; don't you?"

"Well, you see, I've always lived here, so, naturally——"

"Oh, that's true," said Mrs. Ahearn and laughed. Clarence always used to tell me he had to have a wife he could come home to and say: "Well, we're going to Chicago to-morrow to live, so pack up."

"I got so I never expected to live anywhere." She laughed her little laugh again; Evylyn suspected that it was her society laugh.

"Your husband is a very able man, I imagine."

"Oh, yes," Mrs. Ahearn assured her eagerly. "He's brainy, Clarence is. Ideas and enthusiasm, you know. Finds out what he wants and then goes and gets it."

Evylyn nodded. She was wondering if the men were still drinking punch back in the dining-room. Mrs. Ahearn's history kept unfolding jerkily, but Evylyn had ceased to listen. The first odor of massed cigars began to drift in. It wasn't really a large house, she reflected; on an evening like this the library sometimes grew blue with smoke, and next day one had to leave the windows open for hours to air the heavy staleness out of the curtains. Perhaps this partnership might . . . she began to speculate on a new house . . .

Mrs. Ahearn's voice drifted in on her:

"I really would like the recipe if you have it written down somewhere——"

Then there was a sound of chairs in the dining-room and the men strolled in. Evylyn saw at once that her worst fears were realized. Harold's face was flushed and his words ran together at the ends of sentences, while Tom Lowrie lurched when he walked and narrowly missed Irene's lap when he tried to sink onto the couch beside her. He sat there blinking dazedly at the company. Evylyn found herself blinking back at him, but she saw no humor in it. Joe Ambler was smiling contentedly and purring on his cigar. Only Ahearn and Milton Piper seemed unaffected.

"It's a pretty fine town, Ahearn," said Ambler, "you'll find that."

"I've found it so," said Ahearn pleasantly.

"You find it more, Ahearn," said Harold, nodding emphatically "'f I've an'thin' do 'th it."

He soared into a eulogy of the city, and Evylyn wondered uncomfortably if it bored every one as it bored her. Apparently not. They were all listening attentively. Evylyn broke in at the first gap.

"Where've you been living, Mr. Ahearn?" she asked interestedly. Then she remembered that Mrs. Ahearn had told her, but it didn't matter. Harold mustn't talk so much. He was such an ass when he'd been drinking. But he plopped directly back in.

"Tell you, Ahearn. Firs' you wanna get a house up here on the hill. Get Stearne house or Ridgeway house. Wanna have it so people say: 'There's Ahearn house.' Solid, you know, tha's effec' it gives."

Evylyn flushed. This didn't sound right at all. Still Ahearn didn't seem to notice anything amiss, only nodded gravely.

"Have you been looking——" But her words trailed off unheard as Harold's voice boomed on.

"Get house—tha's start. Then you get know people. Snobbish town first toward outsider, but not long—after know you. People like you"—he indicated Ahearn and his wife with a sweeping gesture—"all right. Cordial as an'thin' once get by first barrer-bar-barrer—" He swallowed, and then said "barrier," repeated it masterfully.

Evylyn looked appealingly at her brother-in-law, but before he could intercede a thick mumble had come crowding out of Tom Lowrie, hindered by the dead cigar which he gripped firmly with his teeth.

"Huma uma ho huma ahdy um——"

"What?" demanded Harold earnestly.

Resignedly and with difficulty Tom removed the cigar—that is, he removed part of it, and then blew the remainder with a whut sound across the room, where it landed liquidly and limply in Mrs. Ahearn's lap.

"Beg pardon," he mumbled, and rose with the vague intention of going after it. Milton's hand on his coat collapsed him in time, and Mrs. Ahearn not ungracefully flounced the tobacco from her skirt to the floor, never once looking at it.

"I was sayin'," continued Tom thickly, "'fore 'at happened,"—he waved his hand apologetically toward Mrs. Ahearn—"I was sayin' I heard all truth that Country Club matter."

Milton leaned and whispered something to him.

"Lemme 'lone," he said petulantly; "know what I'm doin'. 'Ats what they came for."

Evylyn sat there in a panic, trying to make her mouth form words. She saw her sister's sardonic expression and Mrs. Ahearn's face turning a vivid red. Ahearn was looking down at his watch-chain, fingering it.

"I heard who's been keepin' y' out, an' he's not a bit better'n you. I can fix whole damn thing up. Would've before, but I didn't know you. Harol' tol' me you felt bad about the thing——"

Milton Piper rose suddenly and awkwardly to his feet. In a second every one was standing tensely and Milton was saying something very hurriedly about having to go early, and the Ahearns were listening with eager intentness. Then Mrs. Ahearn swallowed and turned with a forced smile toward Jessie. Evylyn saw Tom lurch forward and put his hand on Ahearns shoulder—and suddenly she was listening to a new, anxious voice at her elbow, and, turning, found Hilda, the second maid.

"Please, Mis' Piper, I tank Yulie got her hand poisoned. It's all swole up and her cheeks is hot and she's moanin' an' groanin'——"

"Julie is?" Evylyn asked sharply. The party suddenly receded. She turned quickly, sought with her eyes for Mrs. Ahearn, slipped toward her.

"If you'll excuse me, Mrs.—" She had momentarily forgotten the name, but she went right on: "My little girl's been taken sick. I'll be down when I can." She turned and ran quickly up the stairs, retaining a confused picture of rays of cigar smoke and a loud discussion in the centre of the room that seemed to be developing into an argument.

Switching on the light in the nursery, she found Julie tossing feverishly and giving out odd little cries. She put her hand against the cheeks. They were burning. With an exclamation she followed the arm down under the cover until she found the hand. Hilda was right. The whole thumb was swollen to the wrist and in the centre was a little inflamed sore. Blood-poisoning! her mind cried in terror. The bandage had come off the cut and she'd gotten something in it. She'd cut it at three o'clock—it was now nearly eleven. Eight hours. Blood-poisoning couldn't possibly develop so soon.

She rushed to the 'phone.

Doctor Martin across the street was out. Doctor Foulke, their family physician, didn't answer. She racked her brains and in desperation called her throat specialist, and bit her lip furiously while he looked up the numbers of two physicians. During that interminable moment she thought she heard loud voices down-stairs—but she seemed to be in another world now. After fifteen minutes she located a physician who sounded angry and sulky at being called out of bed. She ran back to the nursery and, looking at the hand, found it was somewhat more swollen.

"Oh, God!" she cried, and kneeling beside the bed began smoothing back Julie's hair over and over. With a vague idea of getting some hot water, she rose and stared toward the door, but the lace of her dress caught in the bed-rail and she fell forward on her hands and knees. She struggled up and jerked frantically at the lace. The bed moved and Julie groaned. Then more quietly but with suddenly fumbling fingers she found the pleat in front, tore the whole pannier completely off, and rushed from the room.

Out in the hall she heard a single loud, insistent voice, but as she reached the head of the stairs it ceased and an outer door banged.

The music-room came into view. Only Harold and Milton were there, the former leaning against a chair, his face very pale, his collar open, and his mouth moving loosely.

"What's the matter?"

Milton looked at her anxiously.

"There was a little trouble——"

Then Harold saw her and, straightening up with an effort, began to speak.

"Sult m'own cousin m'own house. God damn common nouveau rish. 'Sult m'own cousin——"

"Tom had trouble with Ahearn and Harold interfered," said Milton. "My Lord Milton," cried Evylyn, "couldn't you have done something?"

"I tried; I——"

"Julie's sick," she interrupted; "she's poisoned herself. Get him to bed if you can."

Harold looked up.

"Julie sick?"

Paying no attention, Evylyn brushed by through the dining-room, catching sight, with a burst of horror, of the big punch-bowl still on the table, the liquid from melted ice in its bottom. She heard steps on the front stairs—it was Milton helping Harold up—and then a mumble: "Why, Julie's a'righ'."

"Don't let him go into the nursery!" she shouted.

The hours blurred into a nightmare. The doctor arrived just before midnight and within a half-hour had lanced the wound. He left at two after giving her the addresses of two nurses to call up and promising to return at half past six. It was blood-poisoning.

At four, leaving Hilda by the bedside, she went to her room, and slipping with a shudder out of her evening dress, kicked it into a corner. She put on a house dress and returned to the nursery while Hilda went to make coffee.

Not until noon could she bring herself to look into Harold's room, but when she did it was to find him awake and staring very miserably at the ceiling. He turned blood-shot hollow eyes upon her. For a minute she hated him, couldn't speak. A husky voice came from the bed.

"What time is it?"

"Noon."

"I made a damn fool——"

"It doesn't matter," she said sharply. "Julie's got blood-poisoning. They may"—she choked over the words—"they think she'll have to lose her hand."

"What?"

"She cut herself on that—that bowl."

"Last night?"

"Oh, what does it matter?" see cried; "she's got blood-poisoning. Can't you hear?" He looked at her bewildered—sat half-way up in bed.

"I'll get dressed," he said.

Her anger subsided and a great wave of weariness and pity for him rolled over her. After all, it was his trouble, too.

"Yes," she answered listlessly, "I suppose you'd better."

Well, this bowl appears to be cursed, doesn’t it?  How will this story wrap up?  We’ll know next time, when we read the conclusion.

CONCLUSION

That just about does it for tonight’s show.  I’m so glad you joined me tonight.  I know all that old school stuff was weird, and may not have been the most interesting subject matter to listen to—but then, I guess that could be said about most Circa Sunday Night episodes!  I’m glad you hung around anyway!

Have a nice week, remember that Friday will be here before---we---know it, and when it’s all over, I hope you’ll come back and see me and Olive.  We’ll be right here.  By for now.