April Fools Day – Roadkill Crossing

April Fool’s Day Revisited

A camper station wagon. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh

If there was one day I dreaded each school year for the three decades I spent in education, it was April 1, better known as April Fool’s Day.

The students and even a few teachers were merciless with their inane April Fools jokes. I only celebrated the day when April 1 fell on a weekend.

But five times out of seven, it did not. As a teacher and then principal, I endured the school-wide silliness. I gave a little more slack to the younger children who dared approach the principal to trick him. I did my best to play along.

I fondly remember their coy smiles and giddy calls of “your shoe’s untied.” I always took the bait, looked down, waited for the giggles, and continued down the hall until the next juvenile ambush.

It was harder for me to tolerate the older students who tried unsuccessfully to be more sophisticated with their trickery. I didn’t have much patience with students who released the distracted teacher’s pet garter snake in the room or those who put tacks on teachers’ seats.

I wondered who invented such a silly day, so I put my curiosity to work and investigated. My due diligence involved a thorough, if not speedy, Google search.

The results didn’t lead to any definite conclusions. However, multiple resources surmised that the antics of the crazy day likely began with the introduction of the Gregorian calendar. This significant change from the Julian calendar, which had to make immigration reform seem simple, revamped the annual timetable of the entire civilized world.

On February 24, 1582, Pope Gregory instituted the switch by issuing a bull, which I found humorously appropriate. A bull is an edict from the Pope. This proclamation created January 1, not April 1, as the beginning of a new year. Of course, there were problems. In the 16th century, communications were not what they are today. Of course, given the state of the current TikTok world, that may have been a good thing.

Another contributing factor was that Protestant countries like England and Scotland didn’t recognize the Pope’s authority and initially refused to make the calendar conversion, religious reference intentional.

Word of the calendar change took several months, even years, to spread throughout Europe and beyond. Not surprisingly, some resisted the change and preferred to maintain the status quo, which included celebrating a new year beginning on March 25 and culminating on April 1. Just imagine New Year’s Eve lasting eight days. It sounds a lot like Mardi Gras to me.

Those who refused to honor January 1 as the beginning of the New Year and continued to use the April 1 demarcation became known as April Fools for their obstinacy and resistance to change. As the lore goes, April 1 was dubbed April Fool’s Day for those who clung to their old ways.

Those poor fools, excuse the pun, who refused to accept the new calendar were sent off on ridiculous errands and were made the butt of practical jokes, like sticking signs on their backs that said: “Kick me.” My former students kept alive such tricks.

Perhaps because the new calendar took so long to be accepted, the practice of nonsense on April 1 became an annual event. The silliness gradually spread to the British and French colonies in America.

Since then, students have pestered teachers, principals, and parents on April’s first day. With that in mind, come April 1, check your seat before you sit down.

Found along the Dry River, which wasn’t dry. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh

For Sale: Free-range Grackles!

Just a few of the free-range Common Grackles in my front yard.

I don’t know about you, but the Common Grackles have taken over my birdfeeders and birdbaths. If you are interested, I’d gladly sell you a few or all of them.

Of course, you know I’m kidding. I couldn’t resist since April 1 is better known in the U.S. as April Fools Day. When I was a principal, the students loved to fool me on April 1 with all means of shenanigans. I was always glad when April 1 came on the weekend, like today.

So, April Fools Day! And in case you are interested in the grackles, please contact me a.s.a.p.

What Happened to Mel?

I had to wonder, when I saw this on the side of a panel truck, what happened to Mel? Was he bought out of the company? Did he move? Was he fired? Did he walk the plank?

Whatever happened and wherever Mel is, Happy April Fools Day!

April Fools!

Imagine my surprise when I opened this tightly secured trash bin in Okefenokee National Wildlife Reserve. I certainly didn’t expect a greeter, especially a dead one.

This poor mouse had somehow found its way into the steel container, but couldn’t get back out. It got wedged in the latch to the lid, and that was that.

I’ver never been a big fan of April Fools jokes, but I simply couldn’t resist this opportunity.

“April Fools” is my Photo of the Week.

Reaching the end of the roll

By Bruce Stambaugh

If I ever wrote an autobiography, I know what the title would be. I’d call the masterpiece, “The End of the Roll.”

I know this is a family blog. But I just can’t take it anymore. Please make sure your children aren’t anywhere nearby when you read this.

I have been seeking the answer to this important question for most of my adult life. Why can’t men change empty toilet paper rolls?

great egret in flght — No end of the roll for this bird.

I’m serious. If I had a dollar for every roll of toilet paper I have had to put on the holder, I’d be a millionaire. I realize most humbly what that says about my digestive system.

Nevertheless, I’m willing to come out of the stall once and for all and say it like it is. Men have to be helpless if they can’t change a roll of toilet paper.

Of course, never having been a regular in the women’s room, I can’t really know if the same is true on the skirted side of restrooms. I’ve privately asked my wife this touchy question, but she just stares at me in prolonged silence.

I’ll just assume empty toilet paper rolls in female water closets are not a problem. If I’m wrong, I’m sure I’ll hear about it.

But let’s get back to the issue, or should I say tissue, at hand. Is it so difficult a task that men can’t figure out how to take an empty cardboard roll off its holder and replace it with a new roll of TP?

Now I know not all toilet paper rolls are created equal. Shoot. Some TP doesn’t even come on a roll. Some “holders” dispense all too tiny pieces of thin paper that are, well to be truthful, less than adequate for the job, please excuse the pun.

I will say, though, that as long as the supply lasts, they have to be better than those European bidet units. The last thing I need is to be hosed down while reclining in a compromised position. And please don’t try to imagine that either.

But, again, I digress.

I mean how difficult is it to change a roll of toilet paper? These are the same men who rebuild diesel engines, send rockets to Mars, build an entire barn in a day, approve multi-million dollar budgets in the twinkling of an eye, and climb sheer mountain cliffs with no ropes or safety harnesses.

Yet these same masculine minions are so inept that they can’t even unlatch an empty toilet paper tube from its holder, discard the spent roll, unwrap a fresh roll of toilet paper, slide it into place, and secure the holder. It absolutely makes no sense.

Can you tell this is important to me? I mean I can’t be the only thoughtful, regulated man on earth. But then again, maybe I am, given the number of times I’ve had to install a new roll of TP.

dog on beach — No end of the roll for this dog either.

This male ineptitude seems to be universal. It doesn’t matter where the bathrooms are, church, businesses, rest areas, restaurants, even private homes. I’ve replaced roll after roll wherever I go.

Maybe I’m just too old-fashioned. Replacing empty toilet paper rolls with full ones just happens to be one of those important values instilled by my loving parents.

My parents set the tone. If we borrowed something from someone, my brothers and sisters and I were taught to return it in better shape than we got it. If we used someone’s car, we filled up the gas tank before we returned it. Of course, gasoline was 33 cents a gallon then, too.

Maybe that’s the problem. I’m an old guy with old-fashioned values. Replacing empty toilet paper rolls with full ones just happens to be one of those important values instilled by my loving parents. I’m sure they would be most proud of my TP obsession.

So men, please think about this the next time you reach the end of a roll. That’s especially true if it happens to be on April Fools Day.

April Fools!

The palm frond saw its shadow. You know what that means? They’ll be 12 more weeks of spring.

“April Fools!” is my Photo of the Week.

Words I would never use, except now

Amish country sunrise — It dawned on me.

By Bruce Stambaugh

I’ve said it before. I’ll say it again. My quotidian passion for words is inexorable.

The English language is replete with nomenclature I seldom employ either in composition or conversation. Now and then I have to unleash my literary angst. The eve of April Fools Day seems like the perfect time to cleanse my self-abridged dictionary.

Naturally I strive to espouse with beatific legerdemain. I have to do so. My jurisprudence is pathetic. Otherwise, my capriciousness gets the best of me.

I desire to be convivial about my codifications. In this political climate, I certainly don’t want to cause a kerfuffle. Although I’d confess to burble with the best of them.

I’m afraid my temerity has defeated my timidity. I hope to be more ebullient than piquant with my verbose mélange.

I certainly don’t intend to be recalcitrant in my effort to foment erudition. Neither do I want to pen prudery nor have my bespoke verbiage tamp or cajole folks. That’s not my forte.

My carapace should always be buoyant, and reflect the timbre of my character. That way I can steel and galvanize my bonhomie without any frisson. It’s neither insuperable nor insurmountable since their meaning is indistinguishable.

The context should never subsume a redolent, louche, or unpalatable knell. That would be downright bumptious. Rather I need to codify my content to be prescient and pictorial without catering to the gentry.

I don’t want to be feckless in the vernacular after all. That would just be smarmy and lack verve. Even after all these years, I still consider myself a nascent scribe in diaspora.

The reverberation of this dissipated resonance evokes no fiat. It may, in fact, be decrepit with the host of literary scions. Grimace and fulminate all you want. They’ll be no seminal effect on me. I’ll continue to shamble along without hyperbole.

Of course, that could be deceitful subterfuge on my part. However, I’m no nihilist nor am I illiberal.

Though this literary caravan may seem desultory to you, it is actually a scabrous compendium of hifalutin words. I’m not trying to be self-obsequious either.

I am sure there are some cognoscenti readers out there. If so, I will parry their harangues. They are not protuberant to me. Neither am I servile to them.

We can still rhapsodize together on this lexicon of gibberish. After all, I’m no pugilist or sycophantic snob.

I get the feeling that this peripatetic retinue is moribund. Its ethos is unequivocally irrefutable. Mayhap, its thrall is winsome at least.

My actual intent was to be ruminative and instructive. At the very least, this pellucid piece will generate impermanence. Also, here’s hoping that the piece achieves diptych from opening to closing. In that case, abstemious reticence will suffice.

Will I deign to manufacture a whelp to this ineffectual encyclopedia? Probably. I can assure you that it won’t be pernicious. I will admit, however, that I do have a predilection for such febrile panoply.

Bloviator that I am, the comportment for significance here is scandalously bodacious, if not excruciating and specious. I had better halt before my loquaciousness parboils my audience.

In my defense, I can’t be accused of being a cheapskate with terms. Perchance I am, I plead amicus curiae.

This invective could go on for perpetuity. I must skedaddle. My hangdog thesaurus is pooped. Ergo, this is the epitome of epistemic closure.

No fooling about the waffle iron

By Bruce Stambaugh

When I came across an article about the many uses for a waffle iron, I had to read it. The story’s headline pulled me in: “5 Outrageously Good Items You Can Make in a Waffle Iron.”

Besides the obvious and traditionally the only reason to use a waffle iron, to make waffles, the article transformed the lowly gadget into a veritable utilitarian kitchen necessity. I suspicioned the author owned stock in a waffle iron manufacturing company, and was trying to persuade people to rush out and purchase one or two.

dadandmombybrucestambaugh — My late father and mother.

The first alternate to waffles on a waffle iron listed was everyone’s favorite, unless you happen to be vegan, toasted cheese sandwich. Next to the pancake, this has to be the world’s most universal food. If you use a waffle iron, it might even surpass the world-renowned flapjack.

Next on the list was an offering for people who either are indecisive or can’t wait for dinner. The author recommended a fried chicken waffle. I am not making this up. He called it “Chicken Stuffed Waffles.” Let’s just say that the directions weren’t as simple as making the two entrees individually. But syrup on fried chicken? I think I’ll pass.

I thought maybe the third recipe would be the charm. I was disappointed. “Cheesy Pasta” for the world’s mac and cheese fans was presented. Again, the confounding recipe resulted in a crispy crust with a gooey, cheesy center. Not for me.

The next one I might try, if my wife isn’t home and I can find a gluten free recipe. Heat up the waffle iron, plop down a lump of cookie dough, and close the griddle for a minute and a half. Presto, you’ve got a crunchy cookie.

lecturebybrucestambaugh — Dad was much more comfortable giving talks on Native American history than he was working in the kitchen.

Finally came a suggestion that really made sense. Though the author didn’t call it this, the result was a waffled omelette. Just preheat the waffle iron to medium-high heat, pour in your favorite egg scramble and two minutes later you’re good to go.

All this leads me to a simple warning. It came to me as soon as I saw the article’s enticing headline. Don’t do what my late father once did. It was kind of like the waffled toasted cheese sandwich, only worse.

Apparently, Dad was home alone shortly after he and Mom were married in 1942. Now my impetuous father knew less about cooking than me. But he was hungry, and what was a man to do without his wife around to fix food for him?

waffleironbybrucestambaugh — Dad’s partner in crime.

Dad got out their brand new waffle iron, and made, or at least attempted to make, his favorite gourmet sandwich. He had all the ingredients right there before him.

Dad put a slice of plain, white bread on each side of the waffle iron, without preheating it of course. On top of each slice he carefully placed half of a plain Hershey’s candy bar. You know, the flat one with multiple rectangles with the brand name Hershey’s molded into them.

Dad squeezed the two sides of the waffle iron together, and then turned it on. I’m not exactly sure what happened after that, but when Mom got home, the waffle iron was ruined. Her only choice was to throw it out.

I think Dad was really fortunate that Mom didn’t pitch him out, too. Instead their incredible marriage lasted 67 years, in part because Dad gave up grilled chocolate bar sandwiches, not just for Lent, but for good.

So many questions, so few answers

By Bruce Stambaugh

Some time ago I listed several questions over a wide range of topics that I had accumulated. Most of my musings were unanswerable.

Well, since I’m an inquisitive fellow by nature, I’ve done it again. My inquiring mind wants to know, and I thought April Fools Day might be a good time to ask. Should we let the questions begin?

northcoastbybrucestambaugh — The North Coast of Ohio is really the south shore of Lake Erie.

Why is the south shore of Lake Erie called the North Coast in Ohio?

Why do people feel compelled to yell “In the hole!” after a pro golfer hits a shot?

Are there East of Chicago pizza places west of Chicago?

Why do fans in line with the TV camera at baseball games wave and wave and wave once they realize they are on TV?

Beside the letter “r,” what’s the difference between the word “wiggle” and “wriggle?”

If lights attract moths, why don’t these nocturnal winged insects come out in the daytime?

Do they serve Cuban sandwiches in Cuba?

What kind of wine goes with honey barbequed potato chips?

Why are the natives of the Philippine Islands called Filipinos and not Philipinos?

Why is it that when a teacher says the test will be simple, it will always be hard?

someassemblyrequiredbybrucestambaugh — Some assembly required.

Why is it that when directions say, “Some assembly required,” it usually is a lot?

Did you know there is a right way and a wrong way to hang a roll of toilet paper?

Do you know which is the right way to hang a roll of toilet paper?

Did you know that Easter always falls on the Sunday after the first full moon after the vernal equinox?

Did you know the emergency number in Australia, the country down under, is 119?

If tornadoes in the northern hemisphere spin counter-clockwise, and tornadoes in the southern hemisphere spin clockwise, which direction would a tornado on the Equator spin?

Did you know that in Ohio it’s a law that motorized vehicles have to have their headlights on if their windshield wipers are operating?

How do bullfrogs know when the air is warm enough for insects to fly in early spring?

Did you know that the only direction you can travel from the North Pole is south?

When you sneeze, why do people say, “God bless you?”

hotdogsbybrucestambaugh — You won’t find these hot dogs at McDonald’s or any other fast food restaurant for that matter.

Have you ever tried to order a hotdog at McDonalds?

Where did the idea of the Easter Bunny originate?

Is Allstate Insurance really available in all states?

Have you ever wondered who your doctor’s doctor is?

Why is baseball the only professional sport where the manager and coaches have to wear uniforms like the players?

Why is it when you are following a slow moving vehicle in a no passing zone, you don’t pass any oncoming cars, but as soon as it is all right to pass you can’t because there is oncoming traffic?

What is the difference between a day being “partly sunny” or “party cloudy?”

partlysunnybybrucestambaugh — Partly sunny or partly cloudy?

Why do emergency vehicles proclaim “Dial 911” when we no longer have rotary phones?

Why do we still say we’ll carbon copy an email, for example, when we no longer use carbon paper?

Do they serve French toast in France?

americanrobinbybrucestambaugh — In good weather or foul, American Robins still have orange breasts.

Why do people refer to the red, red Robin when the American Robin’s breast is orange?

Why do donuts have holes in the first place?

Why does it seem colder at 27 degrees in April than it does when it’s 27 degrees in January?

Why do we celebrate April Fools Day anyhow?

Groundhog Day is February’s April Fools’ Day

By Bruce Stambaugh

I’ve never been a fan of Ground Hog Day. It’s like February’s equivalent to April Fools’ Day.

I see Feb. 2 as an artificial holiday. It is more marketing ploy than weather prognostication, designed to pump up a small Pennsylvania town to help distract those living in the country’s colder climes from cabin fever.

That was a long sentence.

I am pretty sure no one, other than the mayor of Punxsutawney, Pa. perhaps, takes the event seriously. Winter after all is driven more by calendar and climate than it is one day’s sunny or gloomy weather. Whether the groundhog sees its shadow or not, winter will continue until it really is over.

I hope I don’t sound too bitter.

smartgroundhogbybrucestambaugh — This groundhog was a little to cagy for me. No matter what I baited this live trap with, the groundhog resisted and returned to its burrow under our back porch.

Besides, Punxsutawney Phil has developed some competition over the years. Not to be outdone by the silliness, Ohio has Buckeye Chuck, who is more or less the Avis of rodent forecasting. He tries hard, but doesn’t draw the crowds or paparazzi of his Keystone counterpart.

Where am I going with this? For one, back in time.

Many years ago when I was a young man in college who thought he knew everything, one of my roommates and I got into a mildly heated discussion about groundhogs of all things. And yes, we were both sober. We might have been bored or stubborn perhaps, but definitely not delirious.

Nevertheless, we did indeed disagree about this four-legged furry creature. My roommate, Joe, claimed that groundhogs and woodchucks were two entirely different animals. I said they were one in the same.

We didn’t come to fisticuffs, but Joe was pretty sure that he was correct. I was just as certain that I was right.

Finally, after too much verbiage for too long a time, we decided on a neutral determinant. We would look up the two words in my heavy-duty Random House dictionary. The thick reference book was my one major college personal investment. I was, and still am, a notoriously bad speller. Being a journalism major, I knew I needed to have my assignments completed with proper spelling. This was long before personal computers and word processors with built in dictionaries existed.

Since my parents had taught me to share, the dictionary held a prominent place in our little off-campus abode. It sat atop a desk in the dining room for anyone to use. It wasn’t uncommon for us to invite fellow students over to study together. At least we were supposed to be studying.

Since “groundhog” came before “woodchuck” alphabetically, I turned to my word first. I placed my index finger beneath “groundhog” and read, “Groundhog. A woodchuck.”

My roommate was in denial. I stepped away while he turned to “woodchuck.” “A groundhog” the dictionary declared, Joe’s voice cracking in disbelief.

If I recall correctly, the dictionary was closed rather suddenly. Joe surrendered, a bit grudgingly.

I learned much later in life that in Maine groundhogs are colloquially called whistle pigs because of the whistling sound that they make. In other locales in North America, groundhogs are labeled land beavers.

That brings us back to the present.

Just remember that Feb. 2 when you see a man dressed in a top hat and tuxedo holding up a groundhog, woodchuck, whistle pig or land beaver for the cameras, it really doesn’t mean a thing. Spring will officially arrive March 20 shadow or no shadow.