A challenge and a cup of tea

Before I tackle this session of the 'cuff, I want to describe a problem I finally solved. Today's generation will never have to face the problem that has been challenging me for at least a couple of months. As one of humanity's champion procrastinators, I have been remembering the last time I had been challenged with this task; hence my settling into the "wait 'till next week" mode until that dreaded day arrived: last Thursday.

As I hinted, today's computerized generation has no idea of the complexity involved in replacing a ribbon in an old desk model Underwood typewriter. Some readers may have been down that road. Is your memory kindled?

It was change the ribbon or ... frankly, I had been promising Susan Holland, who wades through my typed copy, with the words, "I'll get that ribbon changed before next week." Now ... weeks later, the time had come. I sat at the old Underwood, typed a few paragraphs and ... you guessed it ... I couldn't read a word or even a letter. (The plus side of this was that I couldn't see the typos and mistakes that Susan overlooks or corrects if they are too bad.) Yep, the time for action had finally come.

Step one. This is for the younger generation of computer experts who haven't had this "joyful" experience. I carefully lifted the two spools of ribbon from the silos where they turned and advanced as the typing progressed ... The ribbons used to be black. These were gray -- make that light gray. So, that first step was completed without a problem.

Step two. Are you with me? I carefully wrestled the old ribbon from that little gizmo (I never knew its name), making sure I would be able to get that new black ribbon into place. A simple job, you say? Bully, darn. If you want to enjoy the experience, I'll call you the next time a ribbon needs changing. Sometime before the next presidential election? Changing a baby diaper is a picnic to step three.

Step three. Everything was going well. After I slipped the two new spools into their homes, I turned on the desk lamp for more light and then confidently proceeded to weave that new stubborn, flimsy, limp little black ribbon into place.

It's been said that time passes fast when you're having fun. Well, time passed, and passed, and passed. The fumbling continued. The frustration flared. And the fun turned into 'nuf (that's fun backward). My fingers, make that my hands and the cheek where I tried to brush away some frustration, became glorious examples of black typewriter ribbon ink. Half an hour later, lunchtime was approaching. The bulb on the table lamp went black (there's that word again) and, almost by accident, that wiggly, squirmy little black cloth ribbon fell into place. Pure luck? Nope. Pure skill? Hooray. I took a break. What follows is being written sometime later.

So, here goes: A recent 'cuff was about comic strips and it (the column) generated a few comments. Someone asked which of today's comics I read? I wonder how my favorites compare with yours.

There are several I read every day, or in the Sunday comic section of the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette. I'll probably forget a few but Blondie and Beetle Bailey and Garfield and Dennis the Menace and Hi and Lois get a read ... as well as Mutts (I like animals) and Zack Hill, when Cagney is in the strip. Another favorite is Pickles (I wonder why?) and Baby Blues (I relate to Hammie), Pearls before Swine (hidden meanings and interesting human tendencies), Mallard Fillmore (political and sometimes caustic, which appears in the legal notice section) and, finally, Strange Brew ('nuff said).

There are more than 25 strips or cartoons in the daily and Sunday papers, enough to attract a varied audience. Some are likeable, interesting, funny and understandable. Some, however, just draw a blank; those are skippable. They can no way fill the void of Dick Tracy, Joe Palooka, Maggie and Jiggs, Little Orphan Annie, L'il Abner and others from another era which brought chuckles, sometimes head-shaking laughter, and almost all had a moral lesson. (Whoops! I forgot those ornery Katzenjammer Kids.) So many today do not seem funny; some are filled with words and satire that were taboo even a very few years ago. Some seem to make no sense at all to someone who pounds an old Underwood typewriter.

Such is a changing world, a changing culture, a changing of moral values and a fast, fast generation that is now living in what a few years from now will be its "good old days." Truthfully, most of the good old days provide good memories ... others? That's an individual's cup of tea.

Dodie Evans is the former owner and longtime editor of the Gravette News Herald. Opinions expressed are those of the author.

Editorial on 04/12/2017