“Retro TV”

c. 2018 Rod Ice

All rights reserved

(2-18)

Roku.

A few years ago, I placed a repair call to my Internet provider. While the technician was working, I confessed that the cost of in-home television via cable was becoming distressingly expensive. It created a burden that seemed unjustified because I spent most of my waking hours on duty as a business manager. The TV served only one useful purpose – to brighten the living room with glimpses of the outside world as I drank beer after getting home at night.

The professional repairman was middle-aged, like myself, A fellow in scruffy work clothes and a logo cap from his company. After nodding a few times, he offered affirmation. “I hear that every day,” he said. Then he added a tidbit of advice. “Get a Roku box.”

I was confused. The name did not sound familiar. “Royko? I used to read his columns in the newspaper. Witty fellow he was...”

The fix-it man wiped sweat from his brow. “Roku. You can get them anywhere, really cheap. Go to Walmart. You’ll be amazed.”

While he busied himself installing a new modem/router combination on my home line, I puzzled over his advice. “You get television through this box?”

“Lots of free channels,” he observed.

I shook my head. “What about ESPN? And the news channels?”

He smiled indifferently. “They are all there. Some cost money some don’t. Check it out.”

Weeks later, after another increase on my cable bill, I remembered his admonition. The advice turned out to be quite prophetic. When I visited my local megacenter, there were several versions of the device on display. One worked with older CRT television sets like my own. Suddenly, I began to comprehend what he had been saying. The Roku could stream programming via the Internet to a regular TV, something I, as a Luddite of sorts, had never seen before. I purchased the unit with silent glee. Upon connecting it to my old Curtis-Mathes set, a new world of programming opened with dazzling dimensions.

I canceled my cable subscription after one week of the Roku.

At first, this electronic portal let me keep in touch with game highlights after work. Also, I used it to stay abreast of world developments with 24-hour news channels. CBSN, one I’d never seen before, became a particular favorite. There were so many options available that after adding new content to my media list, I often found myself forgetting to watch.

Typically, I settled on ‘Sportscenter’ and viewed their parade of game clips until post-work fatigue took over and I fell asleep in my chair.

Early retirement changed my household paradigm, however. With personal mobility, eyesight and general health in question, suddenly I had more free time for writing projects or TV viewing than ever before. I began to truly dip into the vast sea of alternatives on my Roku. What followed was a period of discovery and wonder.

And a channel called ‘24/7 Retro.’

I added it from a listing someone had posted on Facebook. Almost as an afterthought. Later, one night, I spied it in my list. A click on the icon turned my screen to glorious black & white. Then, I flashed on a vibe of Saturday afternoons during my childhood. When local TV stations would run low-cost programming like Tarzan movies, Charlie Chan adventures, Godzilla films, obscure westerns, celluloid shorts and the like.

I was thrilled!

The channel had lots of programs from the post-war era. When the very idea of television was new to most Americans. ‘The Lone Ranger’ and ‘Dragnet’ were familiar. But I began to see other exciting shows barely known in the 21^st Century:

‘Lights Out’ - An anthology series. Eerie tales hosted by Frank Gallop. (1946-52)

‘Decoy’ - Starring Beverly Garland as an undercover policewoman. (1957-58)

‘Lockup’ - Featuring Macdonald Carey as real-life attorney Herbert L. Maris. (1959-61)

‘Tales of Tomorrow’ - A series of various sci-fi stories. (1951-53)

‘Follow That Man’ - With Ralph Bellamy as Mike Barnett. (1949-54)

‘Passport to Danger’ - An incredible early appearance of Caesar Romero. (1954-58)

‘Man With A Camera’ - Charles Bronson. (1958-60)

‘One Step Beyond’ - A popular anthology show, hosted by John Newland. (1959-61)

‘Annie Oakley’ - Starring Gail Davis. (1954-57)

‘Rocky Jones, Space Ranger’ - With Richard Crane. (1954-55)

‘Suspense’ - Anthology series. (1949-54)

‘Quatermass II’ - A British sci-fi serial, middle of a trio from the 1950’s, written by Nigel Kneale. (1955)

‘The Lawless Years’ - Featuring James Gregory. (1959-61)

‘Sherlock Holmes’ - A version starring Ronald Howard. (1954-55)

‘The Adventures of Robin Hood’ - With actor Richard Greene. (1955-59)

These shows were accompanied by old serials like ‘Radar Men from the Moon’ which featured the notable character of Commando Cody. Plus, ‘Shadow of Chinatown’ with noted actor Bela Lugosi. I became spellbound by each production. It was as if my own slide into disability had reconnected me to the world I remembered as a kid.

Call it a second childhood... video style.

Comments or questions about ‘Words on the Loose’ may be sent to: icewritesforyou@gmail.com

Write us at: P. O. Box 365 Chardon, OH 44024

Published occasionally in the Geauga Independent

“Philco Radio Memories”

c. 2018 Rod Ice

All rights reserved

(2-18)

Radio. I have always been a fan.

One of the earliest gifts I can recall from childhood, somewhere in the mid-60’s, was a gray, Silvertone table radio out of the Sears & Roebuck catalog. Made of hard plastic. Our household consisted of many items from that notable retailer. Indeed, I sometimes wondered if my sister and little brother came from their holiday ‘Wish Book.’ The AM receiver was old enough in design that it still used vacuum tubes. Likely, a closeout item as transistor devices were beginning to flourish in the market. But I felt a rush of new-world experiences when tuning frequencies with its white, circular dial. The radio connected my rural world to another dimension, like a portal into the cosmos.

In that distant era, it was my ‘Internet.’

Later, for Christmas around 1967, in got a sleek, new transistor device. It had a stylish leather case and cream-colored earphone as accessories. Very typical in that moment. Also, quite useful for discovering late programs after bedtime. Because I could tune around on my own, listening truly became a learning experience. While an affinity for music made me want such a gadget, soon enough, news and on-air chatter piqued my interest. I listened intently as voices from afar discussed issues of the day. The progress of technology had changed my world forever.

But somewhere after 1970, this march toward tomorrow hit a ‘speed bump’ of sorts. One in which I rejoiced with youthful glee.

I was riding home from grade school with my father, through a suburban neighborhood near our own. The tree lawns were piled with rubbish and old furniture. Apparently a cleanup day of some kind was close at hand. Something my own family would hesitate to observe because we rarely, if ever, threw anything away. There, at the curb of a home we passed was a Philco console radio. Quite stately and grand in obsolescence. The sun glistening from its faded, wood cabinet.

As a kid, I was struck by its physical dimensions. It was literally huge compared to anything seen in our household. Immediately, I bounced up and down in my seat.

“Are they throwing that away, Dad?”

My father seemed disinterested. “Probably,” he replied.

“Can we look at it?” I pleaded. “Please?”

He raised an eyebrow. Something about my naive enthusiasm must have reminded him of his own younger days. Without protest, he turned the car around. We pulled into the driveway and waved to the homeowner who watched our approach with curiosity. A short conversation revealed that the radio was ‘junk’ waiting to be hauled away. It had been manufactured in the 1930’s. We were encouraged to take it for free.

Somehow, the Philco managed to fit in our beige, two-door, Ford Maverick. I cheered as we finished the drive home. Later, friends would laugh out loud at my relic. But for the moment, I felt like a trophy hunter with an incredible score.

Dad knew what my child-brain could not imagine. Namely, that the antique was likely being discarded not only because it had fallen out of fashion, but also because it no longer functioned. Once we had it in the basement, a quick check revealed the awful truth. Besides being visually battered from decades of use, it needed a transformer of some sort and a speaker.

I felt crestfallen.

Some of the tubes lit up when we plugged it in, and the dial light worked. It was an AM receiver with shortwave bands. But of course, no sound came through the tattered grille-cloth.

Happily, as a farm boy, Dad had mastered not only automotive repair, amateur carpentry, and later in life, philosophical and theological disciplines, but additionally – radio & television service. He had a manual published in the 1950’s with all sorts of useful information. So after diagnosing the receiver’s woes, he rummaged through a stash of spare parts in the garage. In less than a week, my new-old radio was once again in service.

I cheered even louder than when we first spotted it during our after-school drive!

Though about 40 years old at that time, the Philco proved to be very dependable. I listened to stations across the country at night, like WHO in Des Moines, Iowa, WLS in Chicago, or WSB in Atlanta. The shortwave bands brought in broadcasts from around the globe, often in English, but some in foreign tongues that I could not understand. Still, I tried to mimic their inflections. Varied blips and beeps and artificial noises from orbiting satellites provided extra entertainment.

Eventually, I encountered Wolfman Jack, who I believe was on WABC at that moment, doing the routine seen famously in ‘American Graffiti.’ I loved his style and wished for my own career as a disc jockey.

“YES, GRACIOUS! PUT YOUR HANDS ON THE RADIO AND FEEL THE VIBRATIONS COMIN’ THROUGH!”

With my march toward adulthood, the Philco faded from consciousness. I left home at the age of 19, to pursue personal goals associated with motorcycles and Rock & Roll. The console radio was eventually given away to a family friend who hoped to restore it to factory condition. But instead, it ended up in his garage. Water damage from a leaking roof finished its lengthy life-cycle. Only later would I realize my mistake in not retaining this beloved friend.

An error I will regret forever.

In recent years, I have looked for another Philco without success. Many versions of a similar design were produced before and after World War II. But nothing exactly like my lost receiver has appeared locally. Still, cyberspace research has offered clues that have helped to jog my memory. I can only hope to find a family photograph at some point to clarify what Dad and I discovered.

Until then, I will ponder… and write.

Questions or comments about ‘Words on the Loose’ may be sent to: icewritesforyou@gmail.com

Write us at: P. O. Box 365 Chardon, OH 44024

Shared occasionally in the Geauga Independent

Note: Philco radio photograph from AntiqueRadios.com

“Beer Before Five”

c. 2018 Rod Ice

All rights reserved

(2-18)

Retirement.

Being permanently off the work schedule was an adjustment I expected later in life. A foreign experience often described by veteran folk who were ahead of me on the chronological journey. So when my employee negation arrived around 16 months ago, it hit with the force of a bowling ball scattering pins. I was unprepared for this new adventure.

It took a full year before I was able to comprehend that being out-of-service was more than simply an interlude of unemployment. My concept of self had to be changed.

Still, old coping mechanisms remained in effect. As I began to navigate these new waters, familiar habits took hold. Thus, while my own daily schedule was exploded, the dependable routine of having a regular libation of sorts throughout the day became even more compelling. As these drinking episodes ensued, I found my iPhone useful in documenting their characteristics. My need to write blended perfectly with the desire to be mellow.

With each bottle, I added more to the poetry on my tiny screen:

Beer before five

I’m barely alive

Beer after ten

I’ ll do it again

Beer in the day

Blows me away

Beer in the night

Feelin’ alright

Beer and TV

That does sound like me

Beer in the yard

A headache hits hard

Beer in the sun

Try not to get stung

Beer with the moon

Be slumbering soon

Beer in the snow

It’s on with the show

Beer by myself

Texting Michelle

Beer in my chair

I’m going nowhere

Beer till the daybreak

Makes me feel so great

Beer with Phil Hendrie

The radio stream

Beer with a book

I can’t wait to look

Beer with guitar

Better play, by far

Beer with a horn

Gonna jam until morn

Beer with a drum

All alone having fun

Beer and a chime

Much better than wine

Beer and balalaika

Garage sale perestroika

Beer and my phone

I’m ready to go home

Beer by myself

An elf on the shelf

Beer in the dark

The muse brings a spark

Beer in my belly

My legs turn to jelly

Beer in my hand

I make here my stand

Beer flowing cold

Heal now, my soul

In yonder days, I opened a brew after a long day had turned into night, at the “real job” in Geneva. But my retirement ethos knew no limit of the clock. A drink with breakfast? Miller High Life and eggs with bacon. A drink with lunch? Coors and cold cuts. A drink with dinner? Killian’s Red and a pot roast. A drink at night? Labatt Blue and streaming shows on the big tube. A drink in the wee hours? Pabst Bee Arr and a black & white show with screaming police cars.

A drink in my sleep? I’d heard stories of such things but never yet have gone so far.

This wild ride continued for a few months, until I became adjusted to the lifestyle of one unplugged from the grand social network. Suddenly, another old habit took hold. One less likely to cause mayhem with my health and family life.

Drinking coffee.

Around two or three o’clock in the morning, ideas seemed to flow freely. With a pot of grounds brewed by my Bunn home system, I took my spot at the desk. And began another journey in the quiet hours, toward self-fulfillment:

Coffee my friend

We meet here, again

Coffee my hope

Pure love you bestow

Coffee my love

A gift from above

Coffee my sweet

You fulfill my need

Coffee my savior

You bring warmth and flavor

Coffee in the cup

Now I drink you up

Beer has always been more of a stimulant for poetic rambling, I confess. A beverage well-suited to cerebral flights through imaginary dimensions of vision and prose. One likely to produce wild inspiration from the ether. Or evoke stories of bygone days, as yet untold. But my companionship with coffee seems more likely to make the nights, and creative impulses, last longer. A clear head being required for proper editing skills.

Still, the muse appears as a bottle ends. So perhaps alternating both at regular intervals might be the best strategy of all. Or at least – the most productive.

Questions or comments about ‘Words on the Loose’ may be sent to: icewritesforyou@gmail.com

Write us at: P. O. Box 365 Chardon, OH 44024