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Samuel E. Warren Jr., The Prophet On Word Press

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Samuel E. Warren Jr.,

The Prophet

On

Word Press

by Samuel E. Warren Jr.

 

Every writer wants to make his mark in the world. Ernest “Papa” Hemingway, William Faulkner, P.D. James, Barbara Cartland, Agatha Christie, Erle Stanley Gardner, L.Ron Hubbard, Stephen King, Samuel Langhorne”Mark Twain” Clemens,Thomas Wolfe, John Ernst Steinbeck Jr., Robert Frost, Edgar Allen Poe and, now, Samuel E. Warren Jr.

 

The traditional way, of course, is to work as a newspaper reporter, editor, magazine writer, columnist, movie script author or playwright.

 

Thanks to the Internet, social media, software, hardware, computers,streaming video, cell phones and the electronic inventions from the 1970s through 2013 – tradition has changed.

 

Writers Write

 

I love to write.

 

My philosophy as a writer is simple: “Writers Write.”

 

Blog writers or authors may never be invited to book-signings like novelist authors.

 

However , blog writers electronic articles are posted in the vast never closes Library Of The Internet just waiting for someone to use a search engine – to find the listing tucked away in the virtual card catalog.

 

Lessons Of The Sam I Am Blog

 

I began my Sam I Am Blog around 2005 as a basic one person, weekly, and sometimes daily electronic newspaper.

 

It was never intended to be the “Dear Diary” of many websites but a collection of my writing and photographs.

 

I post stories,anecdotes, photos, opinions, editorials, commentaries, news reports, feature stories, short stories and a collection of my life experiences revealed in a variety of different formats.

 

I had toyed, for a few months, with the traditional stereotypical writer challenge of “The Great American Novel”.

 

I actually completed two novels written out in longhand in two different notebooks. The experience was fun, but time consuming. I put them on the shelf.

 

On my “Sam I Am Blog”, as of March 6, 2013, I had 275 post of articles and photos under my belt on that blog, This post, naturally, changed the number to 276.

 

I decided to try another writing project to add flexibility to my writing.

 

I wanted to do something controversial.

 

Politics And Religion

 

From the time I was a small boy my mother had always warned me, “Never Talk Politics And Religion In Public.”

 

On the surface, it is wise advice.

 

In a democracy like the United States Of America, you should find a way to talk politics and have your opinion heard. I believe what President Thomas Jefferson said about an “informed citizenry.”

 

Once you begin working you pay local, state and federal taxes, which means you pay the salaries of those politicians. Since you are putting their groceries on the table, there has to be a way to tell them what you think.

 

You should “talk politics”, but be wise about where you express your political views.

 

In the Real World, anytime you talk Politics or Religion, in public, you can sometimes watch an ordinary person transform before your eyes into a raving fanatical, lunatic.

 

Talk politics and people get upset. Their faces get red. They raise their voices. Their sentences become overloaded and bloated with dictionaries of cuss words and their tones climb well up into the decibel range.

 

Regardless of the political topic or issue, at the end of the day, a Democrat is a Democrat and a Republican is a Republican.

 

As long as alcohol and firearms are no where near the discussion area, most people will grumble away and come back another day to discuss or argue the merits of their issue, candidate or party.

 

When the dust has cleared all you have really done is waste time and found out ,in no uncertain terms, where a person stands.

 

Alas, Politics is essentially the age old Chevy versus Ford discussion.

 

Farmers who own Chevy and GMC pickups seldom have a nice word for Ford owners. Likewise, the “Ford Faithful” look down on the Chevy lovers.

 

Dodge and the owners of Japanese made pickups are looked at by the good ole boys of Chevy and Ford like, “What planet did you say you were from ?”

 

The Internet is a wonderful location. You find a virtual street corner and put down your soap box to stand upon. Then, you go into your best Voltaire and Robespierre

 

I, Sam The Democrat, keep my politics on my “Sam I Am Blog”. . .for now, anyway.

 

Momma The Mentor

 

 

I, Samuel E. Warren Jr., proudly proclaim myself a

 “Momma’s Boy.”

 

I could ask my mother any question and she would give me her honest opinion.

 

Momma never pull punches with me. If I was “In The Right”, then, she supported me tooth and nail.

 

If I was “In The Wrong”, Momma did her best to try and be the first one to tell me.

 

As a young man, I even asked Momma my “birds and bees questions” and she answered them.

 

My mother was a truly unique human, who lived her beliefs.

 

There was just one subject I could not get Momma to discuss with me: Religion.

 

I could never get my mother to discuss religion with me.

 

I did enjoy tossing out ideas and watching her shift around in her chair and try to change the subject.

 

Momma had been exposed to the Pentecost beliefs as a little girl, but, did not really practice those beliefs as an adult.

 

Every Human’s Achilles’ Heel

 

Thanks to Momma, I discovered The Achilles’ Heel Of Every Human On Planet Earth – Religion.

 

As a young boy, Momma had told me she would never tell me what to believe when it came to religion.

 

She held true to her word.

 

Through the years, I would run various religious ideas by her and her Midwest Ozarks upbringing made it obvious that Momma wasn’t fond of the idea, but, she never told me, “No.”

 

Through childhood, into the International Order Of DeMolay, into college and on to active duty in the United States Armed Forces, I came in contact with various people of numerous religions and faiths.

 

Through my life experiences, I have visited various churches, sit through sermons, Mass and lit incense in temples.

 

I never found “The Religion”, but I did discover “The Spiritual” in my Life.

 

In my Quest, I had to move past the salesmen and the recruiters and I did.

 

Religion’s Cereal Salesmen

 

Religion is like cereal, there are many boxes on the store shelves and they all come in different packaging and flavor. They all meet the minimum daily requirements.

 

I just never appreciated the self-righteous “salesmen” and the “quota recruiters”, who always tried to strong arm their way into my Immortal Soul.

Award a man or woman a sheepskin in religion and suddenly that person acts like they are “God’s Little Brother” or “God’s Little Sister” and they have all the answers.

 

The “Witnessing Religions” are the worst because they lead their religious associates to believe that they have to “spread the word” and carry out the “ministry”, so a man or woman starts to talk.

 

You listen. You can ask questions. But, if your questions have humor or any cynicism, sarcasm, or skepticism; then,”Lo, you are a disrespectful sinner”.

 

If one of your questions hits the aspiring apostle’s nerve or the devout disciple’s ego the wrong way, then, their facial expression changes and usually their voice rises and the person seems more offended and aggressive.

 

The serial salesmen don’t appreciate it when you call them on their “testimony.”

 

Their faith usually sends them out to do “testimonials” like a vacuum cleaner or a tractor salesman and you are suppose to be the good customer and not question company advertising and marketing.

 

After all, the salesmen and the recruiters have memorized the serials of stories and weren’t suppose to know if the product or service actually worked.

 

These testimonial people are serial salesman they can tell you an episode of Psalms, Deuteronomy, or whatever, but, they can’t actually tell you if Jesus ever went out on a date with a woman or Saint Peter’s wife’s middle name.

 

Through the years, I have learned, rather than risk teasing a hungry dog, who I will invariably,make foam at the mouth and angry – I smile and shut the door.

 

 

The Human Computer

 

Sometimes though Religion forgets it is “Food For The Soul” and not the Universal Hardwired Programming Of Each Individual Human On Planet Earth.

 

People can always choose to reformat their mental hard drives with Operating Systems of their own choosing and select or reject various upgrades to their programming based on their Life experiences.

 

The World’s Old Traditional Religions forget they are the FORTRAN, COBOL, assembly, and machine languages of past generations.

 

The sprite, peek and pope graphics of the early humans who were flesh and blood pizza boxes that were amazed by flashing cursors of light from lighting and swamp gas to St. Elmo’s Fire,

 

Like computers, people evolved over the years and Prometheus, got tweaked with enough intelligence to carry his own cigarette lighter and maybe even learn how to wire up a house.

 

Prometheus like other humans sought to expand their human programming on their own to reach out beyond Global Positioning Satellites to interface with God.

 

Meanwhile, while the old religions are still scratching their heads over the Apple IIe and the old Packard Bell 386 in the church, synagogue or mosque basement, people out in the Real World is glance at their Kindle readers, i Phones, and cell phones.

 

While religious officials may worry that they are becoming The 8 Track Tapes Of Humanity, people in the Real World wonder if they have the latest state of the art portable electronics to keep up with breaking news and check their email without switching their Internet Service Provider and upgrading to another cell phone plan.

 

The Vatican got Pope Benedict XVI a twitter account, which got canceled when he became the Emeritus Pope.

 

The old religions are working with the electronics, but they have yet to grasp the ASC II understanding that their doctrine and dogma has got to be upgraded to be saved into the evolving servers of the human mind.

 

Despite the technology of the Real World, there are humans, who get that Amiga formatted floppy and the MS-DOS 5.0 floppy loaded into their minds and they do not want to challenge or risk accidentally overwriting their religious beliefs.

 

Therefore, they backup their religious beliefs to a hard drive in their heads and ward off any ideas they consider worms, trojans, viruses or back doors to their hardwired religious beliefs.

 

Nuclear Religious Reality

 

A Religious discussion can get you hurt, hospitalized or, based on some news stories, in the United States and around the globe: DEAD.

 

The topic of Religion is essentially the equivalent of realizing that you are in possession of nuclear material and realizing that you have to handle it carefully otherwise you are at Ground Zero of Three Mile Island and Chernobyl.

 

Nonetheless, Religion is an important issue to every human on the planet because it always leads to a belief of some sort in an Afterlife.

 

I believe Religion is far more Nuclear than Politics.

 

Politics makes people angry because it takes money out of their wallets and purses, but people know they have to have some semblance of public order provided by government.

 

Otherwise, Life is a never-ending chaos of neighbor against neighbor for property and goods, which results in the legendary Hatfield and McCoys feuds that last for generations.

 

Politics ends at the tombstone.

 

Religion is one of those personal issues that goes to the core of the individual and challenges a person to examine their Immortal Soul.

 

Politics can lead to War; Religions start Wars.

 

Samuel The Prophet

 

I knew a religion blog would serve my curious and controversial needs.

 

 

I needed a catchy title. I got it.

 

I needed something to catch the eyes. I got it.

 

I posted some articles. I did it.

 

I post to the blog and wait for feedback and comments.

 

Publicity is always hard to achieve because it costs money.

 

Free publicity is rare.

 

Now, I have decided to do some publicity for my religion blog.

 

The Samuel E. Warren Jr., The Prophet” blog is on a Word Press website.

 

Word Choice

 

I decided the word, “Prophet” would probably take some religious people to “Defense Condition One status and have a klaxon going off inside their heads.

 

At DEFCON ONE, I would like to believe they will visit my blog and read through some of the articles.

 

In the Midwest, Moses is an old respected Holy Bible prophet.

 

For someone in the early 21st Century to use that hallowed, revered, respected, sacred English word, “Prophet,” would be ?

 

Heretical. Not really, because a word is just a word, but the meaning gives the word Life.

 

To call oneself a “Prophet” is Blasphemous ? Not really, because financial publications have run articles on “Profit Prophets” of Wall Street through the years.

 

However, the word, “Prophet” does catch your eyes and stimulates your mind.

 

The word choice of “Prophet ?”

 

I done did it.

 

The Samuel E. Warren Jr., The Prophet blog is a platform to look at religion.

 

I know I will not change anyone’s religion.

 

The purpose is not to convert anyone.

 

The purpose is to challenge religious ideas.

 

The purpose is to ask people to think.

 

The purpose is to inspire people to seek a religion that helps them in Life.

 

I challenge the traditional religions.

 

I’m the writer, editor and publisher, so I get to be “The Devil’s Advocate.”

 

Feel free to hit me with your “The Beast,” “The Anti-Christ”, “The Blasphemer,” “The Heretic” and other not so nice comments.

 

I have on my asbestos underwear, so I’m ready.

 

Keep in mind though that I do respond to comments left on my blogs.

 

If you want to look at other than traditional religious views, please, visit my “Samuel E. Warren Jr., The Prophet” blog on Word Press.

 

Sam

 

Link

 

Samuel E. Warren Jr., The Prophet

 

https://samuelewarrenjrtheprophet.wordpress.com/

Written by samwarren55

March 7, 2013 at 6:25 AM

Posted in Bloggers, Blogs, Business, Current Events, Editorial, God, Holidays, Money, Mythology, New Age, Observances, Opinion, Religion, Religion, Sam I Am, Soap Box Religious Opinion, Spiritual, The Ozarks

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My Lone Star Christmas by Samuel E. Warren Jr.

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My

Lone Star

Christmas Story

THE CHRISTMAS TREE_resized

 

Silver

Christmas Tree

Christy Warren, Leneil Saldana, Rayniel Saldana, Ranilo Saldana, Junea Tanahale and Esmeralda Tanahale, all worked to create the artificial silver Christmas Tree at One Warren Way, Barangay Baras. Every time I look at the tree I am reminded of the silver artificial tree that my Aunt Bill and Uncle Audrey used in Houston, Texas in the 1960s. Photo by Samuel E. Warren Jr.

by Samuel E. Warren Jr.

Opal M. DeLong Warren, my mother, was a savvy business woman, who learned at an early age how to manage and save her money and the only “risky” investment she ever made was in land that “always paid for itself.”

 

In childhood, I always had a remarkable Christmas. Both of my parents had had “a hard life” growing up on the farm in rural Missouri and rural Texas.

 

The secret to “My Lifetime Of Privileged Childhood Christmas Days” was my mother and father, especially my mother.

 

Both parents, “were bound and determined” if they ever had a child – that child – would have a better life “growing up” than they did.

 

I did.

 

My Childhood Christmas Celebrations” were always outstanding. The devotion of my parents to make life better for their child guaranteed that the slightest detail was never overlooked.

 

Christmas Shopping

 

Texas LogoIn Houston, my mother always planned my Christmas holiday celebrations with the precision and intensity of someone required to brief the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Momma never overlooked any details.

 

I remember Momma taking me with her to go shopping downtown at Woolworths and grocery shopping at Weingartens, in the suburbs.

 

The Airline Shopping Mall was one of the first major shopping malls built in our section of Houston. It was a place of wonder, when I was a child. There were so many shops with so many items to a five-year-old boy it looked like you could shop nonstop for a week.

 

Momma would swing by Aunt Bill’s house and pick her up or she would take a bus and meet us in the cafeteria of Woolworths.

 

Momma never left me with a babysitter, so wherever she went – I went.

 

Of course, Aunt Bill would take me by the hand and we would go shopping in the toy department, while Momma would shop for other items on her shopping list.

 

Aunt Bill never had a driver’s license until after her 48th birthday, when she passed the test.

 

Nights close to Christmas, Momma would have daddy set aside the night shift job to go Christmas shopping with us. There was a huge store called, “Globe” that seemed to stretch for acres across the horizon in all directions. We would make evening shopping trips to Globe to browse the long aisles.

 

Momma and I loved to shop. Daddy was the traditional American male shopping stereotype, who always just wants to “go in get what he needed and get out of the store.”

 

Southern Protocol

 

The United States is the United States from sea to shining sea. Americans are pretty much all alike in all the 50 states and trust territories. However, “The South” is still “The South.”

 

The southern United States definitely has a distinct sense of protocol that is missing from the northern states. It is a sense of protocol and etiquette not much different from any branch of the United States Armed Forces.

 

The best way to describe “Southern Protocol” —- imagine “The British Monarchy in Stetsons and dress cowboy boots.”

 

What It Means To Be A Texan

 

At heart, “A Texan Is A Successful Hybrid Of An Israeli And A United States Marine.”    Texas Logo 

 

Like the Israelis, Texans know they too are “God’s Chosen People – Texans are The American Version Of God’s Chosen People.”

 

Like a United States Marine, a Texan is all about God and Country, which means “The Battle Of The Alamo” is engineered into your DNA and the follow-up report of where General Sam Houston and the Texicans caught up with Santa Anna and his men is engineered into your RNA, which translates to “The Lone Star” will find a way to shine through any adversity at all costs.

 

Citizens of the other southern states have their sense of pride. Texas and Texans citizenship genetics is a unique blend of confidence, arrogance and pride.

 

Louisiana Pride

 

Louisiana citizens share a state pride that is similar to the Texan’s. Some of the original settlers of Louisiana had been forced to leave their native land and essentially found sanctuary in Louisiana. Then, you factor in the French heritage and the Caribbean cultural influence to create a unique state.

 

New Orleans’ magick, superstition, Voodoo, Hoodoo, Santeria and varying degrees of Roman Catholicism has always been “A Busty Bright Red Bra Waving In The Face Of America’s Conservative Religious Right.”

 

Factor in lawyers trained in the Code Napoleon, who practice law within the United States’ modified British legal system and Americans at large consider Louisiana an oddity best visited during Mardi Gras.

 

All the states of the United States have unique cultures based on their histories. The southern states have always had the European heritage belief that suggests your heritage should be a part of who you are —- rather than just an old family history book in a box packed away in a storage unit and forgotten about.

 

Texans and Louisianans simply seem more ready to embrace their family heritages and proudly live in the spotlight. The traditional southern culture concept is based on respect and politeness.

 

Children in the southern states in 2012 may not be as formally trained as I was as a child.

 

I was taught: “Please.” “Thank You.” “Yes, sir.” “No, sir.” “Yes, mam.” “No, mam.”

 

I was taught to always respect my elders. I was taught to be polite. I was taught if you disagree to do it in a civil manner. Only the adults got to cuss or lose their temper, but, that was only after they had exhausted all the civil rules of politeness and protocol

 

Smart Aleck ?

 

When I first went to “boot camp”, my first Military Training Instructor, Technical Sergeant Carr, a native of Kansas City, Missouri, accused me of being a “smart aleck” because I answered, “Yes, sir” and “No,sir” as soon as I got off the bus at Lackland Air Force Base, Texas.

 

Airman Basic Warren are you being a smart aleck with me,” he grumbled at the top of his lungs loudly into my face.

 

Sir. No, sir. Daddy is a Texan, sir.”

 

Titles Of Respect

 

I was taught that children did not interrupt adults talking in a conversation. You let people finish saying what they have to say, before you reply.

 

Anyone older than you are is always Mr., Mrs, Miss, Mz.

 

You never ever call anyone by their last name without a courtesy title like Mr., or Mrs., in front of the last name, especially, if that person is middle age or a senior citizen – it is a sign of respect,

 

Never ever refer to a middle-aged or senior citizen by their first name, even if they tell you it is okay. You would still call them by their respected title and last name.

 

When Momma and I moved to Missouri, my first three years of school I always felt weird because the Southern Protocol had been engineered into my DNA.

 

Classmates would look at me weird when I added Mrs before the last name of their mothers and added Mr before the last name, when addressing their fathers.

Ozarks Informality

In the Ozarks, kids call adults by their first names. In the Ozarks, kids could answer, “Yeah.”, “Yep.”, “Nope”, or “Nah.,” I was never allowed to use the informality.

 

I was taught it was okay to call kids my own age by their first names and if they had a brother or sister only one year older.

 

If the brother or sister was two years older than my classmate then the Texas and Southern Protocol default kicked in and I had to add Mr., or Miss.

 

The Southern Protocol was always comfortable and normal “Down South” because everyone did it. But, using the “Southern Protocol” procedures in the Ozarks always made me seem like a “foreigner” to my classmates, their siblings and their parents.

 

By the fourth grade, I didn’t care what my classmates thought of my “Southern Protocol.” Daddy expected me to do it. Momma required me to do it. I did it. By fourth grade, “Southern Protocol” was like eye color – it was a part of me.

 

Momma The Hillbilly

 

Momma took pride in being known as a Missouri hillbilly. She often referred to herself as a hillbilly. People would nod. Then, of course, when she called someone “Mr. Keithley” or “Mrs. Keithley,” Ozarkers would frown at the Mr., or Mrs.” being added before the last name, when they expected to hear a first name.

 

Usually an Ozarks’ family member would whisper or speak up, “Opal spent years living in Texas.”

 

As a child I would smile and wonder why Texas just didn’t issue a passport that the other states would recognize.

 

Texas Protocol and Southern Protocol in day to day business affairs in the Ozarks was like being a diplomat from a foreign country.

 

Texas, and maybe, Louisiana, should have their own embassies in Washington D.C., even as states of the United States because Texas and Louisiana really are still foreign countries to their fellow Americans.

 

Political Awareness – NOT

Political Correctness

 

Momma was a politically astute woman. She did not do or say things because they were expected or because it was the “politically correct fad” of the moment.

 

A politically aware person bases their actions on the situation and their beliefs. A “politically correct” person, is like America’s wimp politicians of the 1970s, who all had the “backbones of jellyfish.” Instead of standing up to controversy or working to find a solution, the “politically correct wimps” went with the “fad of the moment” and made America appear like a moody school girl in domestic and foreign policy matters.

 

Momma was politically aware. She made it a point to vote in every presidential election, every election for sheriff and the school board election. She voted for the other offices like county clerk, governor and the others, but, she really focused on the president because he or she calls the overall shots that can lead to war or peace. The sheriff has massive amounts of power in a county. The school board simply means they can go off the deep end and do things that are really going to send your property taxes through the roof.

 

Momma knew and dealt with politicians in the Ozarks, but, they never really knew if Opal was a supporter or just a polite woman.

 

Subtle Messages

 

Momma had learned the Texas Protocol and Southern Protocol custom of referring to people as “a personal friend of mine” or the remark, “they are an acquaintance of mine.”

 

Down South people understood the remarks identified a level of response. It was a subtle endorsement or a subtle rejection of a candidate, leader, official or the person next door.

 

Down South the “personal friend” and the “acquaintance” remarks were a polite way of showing where you stood. In the Ozarks, people shrugged off the remarks as though it was a boast.

 

Momma didn’t brag or boast. She always reminded me, “No one likes a braggart or a blow hard. Don’t blow your own horn.”

 

Family Holidays “Down South” in Houston, in the 1960s, were treated like “an audience with the Queen of England,” “a formal state dinner at the White House” or “an audience at the Vatican.” The significance of the holiday determined the level of formality.

 

The Generals And The Realtors

 

One of the major differences of the 1950s and the 1960s “Down South” as opposed to the Ozarks was in the “formality” of the American Woman.

 

In the South, once you sat foot in a home, it was comfortable, warm, functional and organized like a commanding general’s office. In the home, everything had a place and everything was in the place.

 

Here To Stay

 

There might be lace dollies on the furniture. Even if the home had kids, you still felt at home and everything was organized. It was formal and lived in, but, never gave the feeling that there was damage or that you were “under attack.”

 

Kids grew up with the expectation that all the important formal ceremonies of life would be within the four walls and under the roof. Home for Christmas really meant you had to be “Home for Christmas” to truly enjoy the holiday.

 

The home always had a comfortable sense of “relaxed and functional formality.” The South had a “home” mentality. The Southern “home” was a base of operations and the “wife” was the general in charge who made sure “the base was there to stay.”

Ready To Redeploy

 

In the Ozarks, in the 1950s and 1960s, women seemed to still have “the log cabin mentality.” It was the feeling that, “We cook in here and sleep in here, but, once we get some money, then, we will go find a ‘real ‘ home to live in and a realtor can sell this one.”

 

There was usually the feeling you get on being assigned to a base on a closure list, which is we do the job, until we get orders somewhere else and the realtors show up here or the bulldozers to start the closure procedure.

 

Kids seemed to grow up with the expectation that their homes were more like “bus stations”, which meant “Christmas On The Road” indicated you wouldn’t have to be home for the holidays.

 

The Ozarks had a “temporary and looking for something better” mentality. The Ozarks’ “home” seemed a “deployment area” and the “wife” was “the realtor in charge who stood ready to load the kids in the car and head for the state line.”

 

Texas Logo

 

Christmas Itinerary

 

Christmas meant you pulled out all the stops and went for “A Norman Rockwell Christmas” that could be filmed by a major motion picture studio for possible showing on the screens of theaters.

 

Zero Hour for Christmas Day relied on the children. The child was the “On Scene Commander,” once the child got to the Christmas Tree the mission kicked off.

 

Like a Strategic Air Command Operational Readiness Inspection,you knew it would happen; you just didn’t know when ? Parents hoped the child would wait until sunrise to begin Christmas Day.

 

Operation Christmas Tree” means the parents watch the kids be kids and have fun. Have the video movie cameras and the film or digital still cameras loaded with charged batteries and recording media positioned nearby. After all, children don’t learn about “photo opportunities ” until they grow older.

 

Once Operation Christmas Tree ends, then, Mom and Dad will have their plans to implement for the rest of the day.

 

In Houston,plans after Operation Christmas Tree, meant Aunt Bill and Uncle Audrey, would go to church and then show up for Christmas Dinner. Daddy and Uncle Audrey would shoot the breeze, while Aunt Bill and Momma would cook Christmas Dinner,

 

Usually the day would extend past Christmas Dinner, while the adults talked until the early evening, when Aunt Bill and Uncle Audrey would head home.

 

Christmas in Houston meant a 98 percent chance of “No Snow.”

 

C – Day !

 

December 25, 1959

The Home of Samuel E. and Opal M. DeLong Warren

313th East 26th Street

Houston, Texas

 

I have never been a morning person.

 

C – Day ! Christmas Day was always the exception to my genetic programming.

 

I bolted out of bed.

 

By the time, my tiny feet hit the floor, I was already halfway down the hallway and into the screened in porch room.

 

The huge Christmas Tree was only six foot tall, but, when you are a five-year old boy, the tree in the corner is always as huge as a California Redwood. Momma had massive amounts of matched decorations on the trees. The ornaments were the painted glass ball ornaments of the era.

 

The bubble lights always mesmerized me like a deer in the headlights. The plastic UFO shaped disk bulbs were two tones of color like red and green or blue and yellow. A glass tube contained a red fluid that when heated by electricity would “bubble.”

 

I would shake off my bubble light trance and dive for the brightly wrapped boxes under the tree. It helped that Momma and Daddy were workaholics because I always got what I wanted and more that I didn’t even know existed.

 

 

Marx Electric Robot

 

The centerpiece of this Christmas celebration for me – the Marx Electric Robot. It was an ugly toy.

 

Looks are not everything.

 

My robot came out of the box, to display a casket gray and dark maroon paint scheme.

 

It had a face, only a mother could love. It had a square, alphabet block style head. It had a Voodoo mask expression with a hideous toothless grin. The original toy designer must have worked on the sets of Hollywood Halloween Horror flicks because the toy looked scary.

 

It had a toolbox drawer in it’s stomach, which was cool because it had a wrench or two and the rectangular drawer looked like it belonged at that position.

 

The pedestal base leg design was misleading. You thought the robot would walk like a person with one leg in front of the other. Bur, actually, it’s walking function was more of a “rolling” function.

 

The fact that the big robot took two D sized batteries, “flashlight batteries” to move like it “walked” was a big selling point for kids and parents.

 

The C claw pincher hand at the end of the arm allowed the robot to pick up a “Junior” robot, a smaller robot that came packaged with the main robot.

 

I don’t remember the junior robot “doing anything.” It was a sculpted piece of plastic that sat on the floor for the main robot to “pickup” with the pincher arm.

 

The major selling point of this robot was “The Morse Code function.” You pushed the button on the back of the maroon blockhead and the large yellow eyes on the face would “flash out” Morse code.

 

My robot had The Morse Code key printed out in yellow on the back of the robot, so you knew how many dots and dashes you needed to spell out a letter or a word.

 

In the 1950s this robot was “technology.” In 2012, you can find the non-working robots listed on ebay, without the “Junior” plastic robot that always seems to have disappeared.

 

The moving and the Morse Code function of the robot “amazed me.” I always had to show my aunts and uncles this nifty toy when they came by to visit.

 

Everyone always laughed at the ugly little robot with the flashing Morse Code eyes. Even the adults thought it was “swell” because of the Morse Code function.

 

The Space Race Is On

 

The “simplistic technology” of this robot in the Cold War years of America and “The Space Race” always served to remind you that the Russians may have beat the Americans into space with Sputnik, but the “Race For The Moon Is On.”

 

By 1960, it is impossible to imagine a boy in America from age four to 13 that wasn’t ready to pack his bags and report to NASA to become an astronaut. Robots and space toys were all the rage from the date Sputnik launched in 1957 until Man Walked On The Moon in 1969.

 

Battalions Of Boy Astronauts Downsized

 

America could have been and should have been the nation that made Gene Roddenberry’s United Federation of Planet’s Star Trek future a reality.

 

Alas, the 1970s and “lily-liveried politicians” decided to choose” wallets and worry” or intelligence, imagination, creativity, desire, drive and ambition. Generations of America’s “Battalions Of Boy Astronauts” grew up to become “clock punching peasant taxpayers.”

 

While the future rests in the ether of time, I rip through the paper and become surrounded by a science fiction lunar landscape of discarded boxes and strange paper trees, the floor under the tree would disappear under the revealed toy inventory.

 

My

Marx Three Keys To Treasure Bagatelle Machine

 

 

December 25, 1961

The Home of Samuel E. and Opal M. DeLong Warren

313th East 26th Street

Houston, Texas

 

I rush to the Christmas Tree in the living room and began ripping into the brightly wrapped packages. I ripped into the Christmas paper on the oblong box and unleashed “The Future.”

 

Walk into an American bowling alley, cafe, restaurant, hamburger joint, drive in, bar, or beer joint and you would almost always find one and sometimes several bagatelle machines.

 

They were loud, noisy, gaudy and they mesmerized generations of people until the 1980s when the coin-operated video game industry began to install their annoying game machines.

 

Everyone seemed to love the bagatelle machines. You could even buy smaller versions in toy stores and the toy sections of drug stores and grocery stores.

 

America loved her pinball machines.

 

My Marx Three Keys To Treasure Bagatelle Machine was a child’s version of “The Wheel Of Fortune” television game show.

 

Inside the large maroon dial of the wheel were shiny, bright, gumball machine novelty prizes. At least, one marble has to align in the three spaces of the maroon plastic selection device. Then, you move the peg, which activates the contraption that opens the door on the wheel to reveal your “treasure.”

 

Momma, daddy, Aunt Bill, Uncle Audrey, and I would crowd around the kitchen table on a Friday or Saturday evening and play the game. The adults seemed to enjoy the game as much as any kid.

 

There were spaces printed with points listed, which meant if you got a pen and notepad, you could keep track of your points and figure out who had the most skill with the game.

 

One trip to Texas and the game got loaded in the Impala for the trip back to Missouri. In Missouri, whenever the game was placed on the kitchen table, adults and kids always crowded around the machine and the evening passed with people laughing.

 

There was a few years in the 1970s, when the toy occupied a space in the living room closet, but, even in the 1970s, 1980s and 1990s, the toy would appear on the kitchen table and people would crowd around for a game of pinball.

 

In December 2011, the toy was packed into our household goods for shipment to the Republic of the Philippines. Travel turned the pristine, but dusty box into a pathetic version of it’s former glory.

 

The toy survived the trip, with a minor amount of damage. Nonetheless, when the machine is set up on the kitchen table, the kids crowd around for an afternoon of pinball.

 

I salute the Marx toy company workers because any company that can create a product that from 1961 until 2012 is still standing the test of time is a company that had a “great idea.”

 

And, 51 years later, the bagatelle machine is still bringing smiles and keeping kids and adults entertained for an afternoon or an evening to create a “Treasure Trove Of Memories.” – “What A Toy !”

 

My Immortal “ Kodak Moment ”

 

Christmas morning in Houston, I would look up from the rising sea of discarded Christmas wrapping paper. I radiated, joy, happiness, excitement, like a new sun sending light and energy through space.

 

Mom and Dad would heard the commotion of my childish exaltations.

 

Yes !” “Gee whiz !” “Alright !” “Oh, boy !” “Swell !.” “Neat !” “Neato !”

 

They would step into the room, smiling, wearing pajamas and bulky red Christmas bath robes. Each had a cup of piping hot coffee that they sipped on.

 

The camera in my mind snapped the picture of Mom and Dad standing there smiling at me sipping their coffee. Click ! That “Kodak Moment” is forever framed in the photographic gallery of my memory.

 

I was a blessed little boy. I was a spoiled little boy.

 

Back in the 21st Century, One Warren Way, Barangay Baras, Leyte, Republic of the Philippines. I watched Christy and the kids cut out the letters for a holiday banner like a New York City jeweler facets a diamond. They were meticulous and precise in their use of the scissors on the paper.

 

As the days until Christmas Day pass, the kids talk about and look forward to their school Christmas parties.

 

My wish is Christmas morning, the kids notice Uncle Sam and Aunt Christy stroll out on the porch to watch them release their “inner kid” on the brightly wrapped boxes under the Christmas Tree.

 

I hope they pause only long enough to capture a “Kodak Moment” that they can place in the photo folders of their minds to hang on to in the years to come.

 

Early in the morning, Christy and I will both be sipping from hot cups of coffee. Of course, Uncle Sam with his camera will be ready to take a few family snapshots.

Sam

Texas Logo

 

Sidebar

 

Rubber Toys of the 1960s

 

The nice thing about being a kid in the 1950s is you got tin and metal toys at Christmas to play with.

 

I had a collection of Auburn hard rubber cars and trucks to play with. They were fun toys to play with.

 

I didn’t like the plastic toys because they broke too easily.

 

I loved the metal and tin toys because they were durable and could take whatever you through at them. Usually the worst thing that happen would be you might knock off some paint from the toy.

 

You could leave a tin or metal toy out in the rain or snow and it would still be where you left it. And, even in the salt air of Texas, the toy didn’t “rust out” that quickly.

 

In the mid to late 1960s, parents began to complain to Congress that the tin and metal toys had sharp edges that might hurt the child.

 

Then, in the 1970s, some kids had put the metal toys in their mouth. Parents complained to Congress because many of the metal toys were coated in lead based paint, which was suppose to create health problems and lower the child’s I.Q.

 

Congress, of course, passed the laws.

 

No one , apparently, ever had the common sense idea to remind parents : “They are your kids. You are suppose to look in on your kids every so often to make sure they aren’t misusing, abusing or destroying their toys. Parents are suppose to check on their kids to make sure they are not using their toys in a manner that will hurt or injure the child.”

 

Kids aren’t born knowing how to play with toys; you have to show toddlers and three-year – olds how to play with toys. It only takes a couple of minutes to sit down on the floor and show a kid how to roll a car on the floor. It only takes a moment to remind a child that you don’t throw the toy at people or furniture.”

 

The rubber toys were fun and would last for generations.

 

The metal and tin toys were durable and would last for generations.

 

The plastic toys were cheap. Accidentally, drop a plastic toy and it could smash to smithereens. Usually, a plastic toy lasted only a few minutes.

 

Sam

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons license.

Written by samwarren55

December 21, 2012 at 3:55 AM

Posted in Bloggers, Blogs, Business, Editorial, Family, Holidays, Money, Observances, Opinion

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