Tuesday, September 25, 2012
Kids On Marriage Questions
You got to find somebody who likes the same stuff.
Like, if you like sports, she should like it that you like sports, and she should keep the chips and dip coming.
-- Alan, age 10
No person really decides before they grow up whom they're going to marry.
God decides it all way before and you get to find out later who you're stuck with.
-- Kristen, age 10
2. WHAT IS THE RIGHT AGE TO GET MARRIED ?
Twenty-three is the best age because you know the person FOREVER by then.
-- Camille, age 10
3. HOW CAN A STRANGER TELL IF TWO PEOPLE ARE MARRIED ?
You might have to guess, based on whether they seem to be yelling at the same kids.
-- Derrick, age 8
4. WHAT DO YOU THINK YOUR MOM AND DAD HAVE IN COMMON ?
Both don't want any more kids.
-- Lori, age 8
5. WHAT DO MOST PEOPLE DO ON A DATE ?
-Dates are for having fun, and people should use them to get to know each other.
Even boys have something to say if you listen long enough.
-- Lynnette, age 8 (isn't she a treasure)
-On the first date, they just tell each other lies and that usually gets them interested enough to go for a second date.
-- Martin, age 10
6. WHEN IS IT OKAY TO KISS SOMEONE ?
-When they're rich.
-- Pam, age 7 (love her)
-The law says you have to be eighteen, so I wouldn't want to mess with that.
- - Curt, age 7
-The rule goes like this:
If you kiss someone, then you should marry them and have kids with them.
It's the right thing to do.
- - Howard, age 8
7. IS IT BETTER TO BE SINGLE OR MARRIED ?
It's better for girls to be single but not for boys.
Boys need someone to clean up after them.
-- Anita, age 9 (bless you child)
8. HOW WOULD THE WORLD BE DIFFERENT IF PEOPLE DIDN'T GET MARRIED ?
There sure would be a lot of kids to explain, wouldn't there ?
-- Kelvin, age 8
And the #1 Favourite is.......
9. HOW WOULD YOU MAKE A MARRIAGE WORK ?
Tell your wife that she looks pretty, even if she looks like a dump truck.
-- Ricky, age 10
Dribble For All
If you are right handed, you will tend to chew your food on the right side of your mouth.
If you are left handed, you will tend to chew your food on the left side of your mouth.
To make half a kilo of honey, bees must collect nectar from over 2 million individual flowers
Heroin is the brand name of morphine once marketed by 'Bayer'.
Tourists visiting Iceland should know that tipping at a restaurant is considered an insult!
People in nudist colonies play volleyball more than any other sport ..
Albert Einstein was offered the presidency of Israel in 1952, but he declined.
Astronauts can't belch - there is no gravity to separate liquid from gas in their stomachs.
Ancient Roman, Chinese and German societies often used urine as mouthwash.
The Mona Lisa has no eyebrows. In the Renaissance era, it was fashion to shave them off!
Because of the speed at which Earth moves around the Sun, it is impossible for a solar eclipse to last more than 7 minutes and 58 seconds.
The night of January 20 is "Saint Agnes's Eve", which is regarded as a time when a young woman dreams of her future husband.
Google is actually the common name for a number with a million zeros ..
It takes glass one million years to decompose, which means it never wears out and can be recycled an infinite amount of times!
Gold is the only metal that doesn't rust, even if it's buried in the ground for thousands of years .
Your tongue is the only muscle in your body that is attached at only one end .
If you stop getting thirsty, you need to drink more water. When a human body is dehydrated, its thirst mechanism shuts off.
Each year 2,000,000 smokers either quit smoking or die of tobacco-related diseases.
Zero is the only number that cannot be represented by Roman numerals
Kites were used in the American Civil War to deliver letters and newspapers.
The song, Auld Lang Syne, is sung at the stroke of midnight in almost every English-speaking country in the world to bring in the new year.
Drinking water after eating reduces the acid in your mouth by 61 percent
Peanut oil is used for cooking in submarines because it doesn't smoke unless it's heated above 450?F
The roar that we hear when we place a seashell next to our ear is not the ocean, but rather the sound of blood surging through the veins in the ear.
Nine out of every 10 living things live in the ocean
The banana cannot reproduce itself. It can be propagated only by the hand of man [So let’s research how the first banana was ‘discovered’!]
Airports at higher altitudes require a longer airstrip due to lower air density
The University of Alaska spans four time zones
The tooth is the only part of the human body that cannot heal itself.
In ancient Greece , tossing an apple to a girl was a traditional proposal of marriage. Catching it meant she accepted.
Warner Communications paid $28 million for the copyright to the song Happy Birthday.
Intelligent people have more zinc and copper in their hair.
A comet's tail always points away from the sun
The Swine Flu vaccine in 1976 caused more death and illness than the disease it was intended to prevent
Caffeine increases the power of aspirin and other painkillers, that is why it is found in some medicines.
The military salute is a motion that evolved from medieval times, when knights in armor raised their visors to reveal their identity.
If you get into the bottom of a well or a tall chimney and look up, you can see stars, even in the middle of the day.
When a person dies, hearing is the last sense to go. The first sense lost is sight
In ancient times strangers shook hands to show that they were unarmed
Strawberries are the only fruits whose seeds grow on the outside
Avocados have the highest calories of any fruit at 167 calories per hundred grams
The moon moves about two inches away from the Earth each year
The Earth gets 100 tons heavier every day due to falling space dust
Due to earth's gravity it is impossible for mountains to be higher than 15,000 meters
Mickey Mouse is known as "Topolino" in Italy
Soldiers do not march in step when going across bridges because they could set up a vibration which could be sufficient to knock the bridge down
Everything weighs one percent less at the equator
For every extra kilogram carried on a space flight, 530 kg of excess fuel are needed at lift-off
The letter J does not appear anywhere on the periodic table of the elements.
And last but not least:
In 2012, December has 5 Fridays, 5 Saturdays, and 5 Sundays. This apparently happens once every 823 years!
Saturday, September 22, 2012
Lewis Hungerford Pulling Team
My father Lewis Hungerford with his pulling team Dick and Diamond
and dog Ginger during the winter of 1946
These two horses won 28 first place blue ribbons in horse pulling contests
at county fairs across New York State
This team won "Best Looking Team Award" at New York State Fair 1949 &1950
Diamond was named after the Lehigh Valley Black Diamond train that ran through
Seneca County and he died of old age in 1952
Dick was killed by lightning, along with my pet donkey, Denny Dimwit in 1953
3 Buddies
At Grandma & Grandpa Hungerfords
From left to right
Dave Jackson.....Chuck Jackson.....Mike Hungerford
click on photo to enlarge
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Deputy Sheriff Evelyn Hungerford
 |
My mother Evelyn, was a deputy for over 20 years and worked in the Seneca County Court House during court sessions.This photo was taken the day she retired. |
Antique sale
Sorry for not posting the last few days.
We were busy doing our yearly fall antique yard sale. It lasted 3 days and we had 3 days of preparation.We only advertised the sale in Craig's list and a number of phone invitations. All in all, it was a huge success with about 400 people attending the three day sale.
We are back to normal now and will try to post everyday as material pops into my brain....
more photos coming up...plus more old geezers.......so check daily
HAPPY FALL ALL
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Myself And My Cousin Wayne Brown 1945
Cowboys and Indians on Neeley Road farm in Lodi
I'm the short one
Click on photo to enlarge
Click on photo to enlarge
Sunday, September 9, 2012
Old Geezers Rule
An old geezer is a man who's face shows his age and his struggles through life. His smile and frown are both the same with a variation of a snicker. The eyes are eerie piercing dots, that see through lies and deceits.
His skin is wrinkled and hard, with tiny scars to show great challenges of the past.
The weathered dusty gray hair on his head, in his ears, brows and nose, appear to be strings of wire or brush bristles. He doesn't shave everyday now, just when he thinks he needs to. His cloud gray whiskers grow slower now, showing different drab color shades in low lighting.
The old geezer enjoys staring at objects for long periods of time, with everyone guessing what he may be thinking, but never knowing. His eyes will follow a handsome woman, or a child with great pleasure.
He gestures with his hands more now. moving them up and down with thoughts in his inner conversations to himself. He peers into the sky more, maybe trying to guess the weather pattern, looking toward his future home, or just searching the clouds for answers.
One would think he was lonely, as he just sits still in the porch chair with his weathered hands folded. But, I'm sure he is not alone, with his past friends and relatives lodged so deeply in his mind. He may have long talks with them and even take a quick trip with them. A trip to a fishing lake somewhere in Canada, or a card game down at the local pub. His head is full of such things.
He likes the taste of strong tea, with a biscuit topped with a small spread of peanut butter. Enjoys the morning smells of bacon, eggs and coffee. Knowing he is not to have either because of his faulty heart and gall bladder. Even the taste of bitter Canadian beer will almost bring a smile to his hardened lips and he does dip into the drink once in awhile in the summer. It relieves the dull back pain from tiny black kidney stones hidden in a pocket somewhere inside of him.
He still likes hunting and fishing, but the effort of the work involved is just not worth it. All of his fishing friends have passed on and he wouldn't want to go alone. His arthritic hands could not hold a fishing rod or a gun for very long. Still he keeps his tackle and guns, just in case he may go fishing and hunting someday. One never knows.
So, he sits in his chair waiting for something or someone to come along to peak his interest. Just being an old geezer is not so bad, unless he loses sight in his good eye. Then he will tackle that problem when it arises.
"I smell bacon, Is that old coot across the street frying bacon again?" "Damn old people, don't they know I'm over here sniffing that awful stuff."
Old Geezers forever
Ellen And Wayne With Puppies circa 1948
My sister Ellen (Tootie) Hungerford and my cousin Wayne (Butch) Brown
This photo was taken in my Grandmother Northup's backyard in Ovid Center
click on photo to enlarge
Saturday, September 8, 2012
My Dad And Baby Cindy
My dad Lewis Hungerford and my Niece Cindy Jackson early 1950s
Note: click on photo to enlarge
Fishing Pals 1983 Canada
My nephew Chuck Jackson in foreground and my son Dan Hungerford
1983 fishing trip to Bennetts Lake, Ontario, Canada
One of our many wonderful trips into Canada
Friday, September 7, 2012
An Old Lodi Gezzer I Once Knew
From 1936-1950, my family lived on a 88 acre farm in the town of Lodi, NY. The farm was located on the Nealey Road about a mile from the village of Lodi. There were only 2 residences on that road, ours and Manley Hayes' shack.
Manley's shack was a one room wooden ten foot square building. Built on a small lot with an old outhouse and two dogs.
Manley lived there from 1946 after the war until the middle '50s. He worked a two jobs, one at the Lodi Hotel and the other, all day beer drinking. I knew him for about eight years and I never saw him sober. He never drove a car and walked everywhere carrying a burlap bag over his shoulder. No one ever knew what was in that burlap bag. We guessed clothes, or food, or booze, or maybe money.
During WW2, Manley was drafted by the army at the age of 42 and was wounded sometime in 1945. The word was, he fell of a truck of potatoes and broke his back. During the war it was said, that he only worked kitchen detail, because of his advanced age. The truth in this history is debatable, but it always made a good story. I'm sure he had a military pention to keep him going
In 1947 our family was snowed in and the roads were completely plugged. We needed food and supplies, so My dad hooked up his team of horses to a bobsled and we all headed to the Lodi grocery store.
It was snowing so hard we couldn't ten feet in front of us. But we went across fields to hit the plowed main road. It took about a hour to get there. Being only five years old, I thought this trip was the most fun I'd ever had and I remember it well.
On our trip back home, we saw someone laying along side of the road in the snow. Yep, it was Manley Hayes, drunker than a polecat. My mother and dad helped him into the sled and we took him home. He later told us he was just tired and laid down in the snow to rest. His cabin was nice and warm, so we didn't worry about him.
One time Manley walked down to our house and asked for a glass of water. He stated that he wanted to take the whole glass full home because his home made well was dry. My mother made him take 2 gallons with him. After he left, my dad said that he never drank much water, so he didn't know how much to ask for.
At about age seven, I had the job of picking black raspberries along our dirt road. The hedgerows were full of them and Manley would come out and help me pick. I never told my parents and they wondered how I could pick so many berries. Manley also helped me ride my first two wheel bike.
We sold our farm in 1950 and moved to Interlaken, never to see Manley again.
In 1960, I drove down our old Nealey Road, maybe looking for Manley. His old shack was gone and not one sign of anyone ever living there. The hedgerows were gone too and a new gravel road greeted me.
I later found out that he had died sometime in the late 1950s.
I now live one mile (as the crow flies) from our old farm and Manley's old shack. I think of Manley often, as I drive down that road. I see his smile with baccie juice dripping from the corner of his mouth. Also the torn jacket pocket with a tobacco pouch string tag hanging out. His little out dated hunting license button pinned on his dirty old hat and his worn shoes tied with different colored knotted laces.
Here's to you Manley......and what ever you carried in that burlap bag
Manley's shack was a one room wooden ten foot square building. Built on a small lot with an old outhouse and two dogs.
Manley lived there from 1946 after the war until the middle '50s. He worked a two jobs, one at the Lodi Hotel and the other, all day beer drinking. I knew him for about eight years and I never saw him sober. He never drove a car and walked everywhere carrying a burlap bag over his shoulder. No one ever knew what was in that burlap bag. We guessed clothes, or food, or booze, or maybe money.
During WW2, Manley was drafted by the army at the age of 42 and was wounded sometime in 1945. The word was, he fell of a truck of potatoes and broke his back. During the war it was said, that he only worked kitchen detail, because of his advanced age. The truth in this history is debatable, but it always made a good story. I'm sure he had a military pention to keep him going
In 1947 our family was snowed in and the roads were completely plugged. We needed food and supplies, so My dad hooked up his team of horses to a bobsled and we all headed to the Lodi grocery store.
It was snowing so hard we couldn't ten feet in front of us. But we went across fields to hit the plowed main road. It took about a hour to get there. Being only five years old, I thought this trip was the most fun I'd ever had and I remember it well.
On our trip back home, we saw someone laying along side of the road in the snow. Yep, it was Manley Hayes, drunker than a polecat. My mother and dad helped him into the sled and we took him home. He later told us he was just tired and laid down in the snow to rest. His cabin was nice and warm, so we didn't worry about him.
One time Manley walked down to our house and asked for a glass of water. He stated that he wanted to take the whole glass full home because his home made well was dry. My mother made him take 2 gallons with him. After he left, my dad said that he never drank much water, so he didn't know how much to ask for.
At about age seven, I had the job of picking black raspberries along our dirt road. The hedgerows were full of them and Manley would come out and help me pick. I never told my parents and they wondered how I could pick so many berries. Manley also helped me ride my first two wheel bike.
We sold our farm in 1950 and moved to Interlaken, never to see Manley again.
In 1960, I drove down our old Nealey Road, maybe looking for Manley. His old shack was gone and not one sign of anyone ever living there. The hedgerows were gone too and a new gravel road greeted me.
I later found out that he had died sometime in the late 1950s.
I now live one mile (as the crow flies) from our old farm and Manley's old shack. I think of Manley often, as I drive down that road. I see his smile with baccie juice dripping from the corner of his mouth. Also the torn jacket pocket with a tobacco pouch string tag hanging out. His little out dated hunting license button pinned on his dirty old hat and his worn shoes tied with different colored knotted laces.
Here's to you Manley......and what ever you carried in that burlap bag
Thursday, September 6, 2012
My Son Mike And Frozen Fish
Mike and the fish we caught ice fishing at Dryden Lake
Circa 1974
That was my Fire Engine Red 1970 Monte Carlo
It's Midnight And I feel Like Dancing
Take a look at my dance friends around the world.
Do a little dance with us....it dosn't hurt one bit...
http://apod.nasa.gov/apod/ap120710.html
Do a little dance with us....it dosn't hurt one bit...
http://apod.nasa.gov/apod/ap120710.html
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
Take A Look And You Will Feel Better
This is a wonderful, thought-provoking, one minute clip.
Full of wisdom. . . . and very brief.
It's not a joke, it's not religious, it's not political.
It's just . . . special. I think you'll agree.
Full of wisdom. . . . and very brief.
It's not a joke, it's not religious, it's not political.
It's just . . . special. I think you'll agree.
Toy Soldiers...Little Did I know
My mother became an antique dealer in 1946. Afer the war, jobs were hard to find and for a woman, almost impossible. Our 80 acre farm on the Nealy Road near Lodi, could not generate enough income for our Family to live on. So buying and selling antiques seemed like the only thing for my mother to do.
During and after the war, people were selling everything they could to maintain the good life like just before the world conflict. This included attics full of old junk nobody wanted. However, my mother did and she bought truck loads of this unwanted discards. Over the years she developed a nice large clientele, including dealers from other states to sell these unwanted items to.
During my years in school 1947-1960 I hated antiques and even the attic dust that was on them. I guess because I had to clean and shine most of them. Our stairs to the bedrooms were packed with early lamps and lanterns, leaving just enough room to pass. Our cherry dining room was always filled with colorful glassware from the Victorial era. Even under the table was filled with tin toleware. One side of our dining room held the doll collection. All of them little beady eyes following you where ever you walked. I swore some were alive and were out to get me. Damn junk anyway..
Anyway you get the idea...our house was full of junk. At least I thought that way at the time.
I didn't dare having classmates come over to visit. I didn't want them to see how we lived in the many piles of stuff. To make matters worse, when one of my friends did come to the house, they would spend all of their time looking at the antique junk and not paying attention to me. Nowadays, our house would have been a hoarder's dream and would be on a TV show.
In 1958 my mother started setting up at antique shows for extra income and my job was to help. I carried the tables, boxes and displays into the show and then back out at the end of the show. I also had to watch the tables while she was on a break. I did sell a few things, but I got no kick out of it. I decided right there and then..I'm never going to be an antique dealer...never...never...never...period!
In the fall of 1958, my mother got a call to go see some items for sale at the Bassett estate on the Lodi Interlaken road. It was a large farm house with about ten rooms. The lady had died a few years before and the house had not been touched since her death. Her son gave us a key and told us to make an offer on anything we wanted. He was a farmer and had to go back to work in the fields and would see us at lunch time.
The house was full and so was the attic. We started carrring items out to the lawn and after an hour of this, my mother stopped.
"I think we should buy the entire contents of the house," she stated.
"Are you kidding me," I yelled.
Once she made up her mind, there was no changing it. I wondered where the heck we were going to put all of this stuff in our "full" house.
She made a deal with Mr Basset and we had 2 weeks to clean out the house.
"How and where are you putting this junk," I asked.
I'm not putting it anywhere, I'm selling it right here," She laughed.
So, for 3 days we sorted items, cleaned item and displayed them here and there.
Then she call about 30 antique dealers and set up appointments for each one, so there would never be more than one there buying at a time.
For my work, I got to keep all of the old toys and sporting goods.
Within eight days, the house was cleaned out of antiques and I didn't have to carry one single item.
Plus she sold all of the non antiques to a second hand dealer.
I had taken the toys home and sorted them. There was a box of about 160 old painted War Of 1812 British
soldiers in almost new condition. Plus trucks, cars, games, marbles and more that I can't remember. But, I remember the soldiers well.
In December of that year, my mother booked a 2 day Christmas Antique Show in Pulaski, NY. Off we went with a van full of goodies and set up at the show. It started snowing just after we arrived and we had rented our motel for two days, so the weather didn't mater. Except we may not have customers...oh well, we will think of it as a vacation.
For some reason, I had brought my nice box of little soldiers. On the second day, things were pretty quiet, so I put two of my soldiers on the table without price tags. A few minutes later a man came along and asked how much the soldier were. Not knowing, I told him to make an offer.
"How about 5 dollars each," He said in a very low voice."
I said louder, "What did you say?"
He said, "OK OK..I'll give you 7 dollars each and if you ever get anymore, I want first crack at them."
I know I was shaking like a wet dog as he counted out a stack 50 dollar bills and 1 twenty into my hand.
And he walked away with my Junk soldiers...Yep, Just plain old junk and I was holding 1120 green dollars in my shaking hand.....OH MY...did we ever have a nice Christmas in 1958.
That year, my dad's income was $4000, working 5 days a week at Cornell Univ.
So, my friends...you can see how toy soldiers shaped my life as an antique dealer...It's not junk...did I ever say it's Junk? Don't think so....
During and after the war, people were selling everything they could to maintain the good life like just before the world conflict. This included attics full of old junk nobody wanted. However, my mother did and she bought truck loads of this unwanted discards. Over the years she developed a nice large clientele, including dealers from other states to sell these unwanted items to.
During my years in school 1947-1960 I hated antiques and even the attic dust that was on them. I guess because I had to clean and shine most of them. Our stairs to the bedrooms were packed with early lamps and lanterns, leaving just enough room to pass. Our cherry dining room was always filled with colorful glassware from the Victorial era. Even under the table was filled with tin toleware. One side of our dining room held the doll collection. All of them little beady eyes following you where ever you walked. I swore some were alive and were out to get me. Damn junk anyway..
Anyway you get the idea...our house was full of junk. At least I thought that way at the time.
I didn't dare having classmates come over to visit. I didn't want them to see how we lived in the many piles of stuff. To make matters worse, when one of my friends did come to the house, they would spend all of their time looking at the antique junk and not paying attention to me. Nowadays, our house would have been a hoarder's dream and would be on a TV show.
In 1958 my mother started setting up at antique shows for extra income and my job was to help. I carried the tables, boxes and displays into the show and then back out at the end of the show. I also had to watch the tables while she was on a break. I did sell a few things, but I got no kick out of it. I decided right there and then..I'm never going to be an antique dealer...never...never...never...period!
In the fall of 1958, my mother got a call to go see some items for sale at the Bassett estate on the Lodi Interlaken road. It was a large farm house with about ten rooms. The lady had died a few years before and the house had not been touched since her death. Her son gave us a key and told us to make an offer on anything we wanted. He was a farmer and had to go back to work in the fields and would see us at lunch time.
The house was full and so was the attic. We started carrring items out to the lawn and after an hour of this, my mother stopped.
"I think we should buy the entire contents of the house," she stated.
"Are you kidding me," I yelled.
Once she made up her mind, there was no changing it. I wondered where the heck we were going to put all of this stuff in our "full" house.
She made a deal with Mr Basset and we had 2 weeks to clean out the house.
"How and where are you putting this junk," I asked.
I'm not putting it anywhere, I'm selling it right here," She laughed.
So, for 3 days we sorted items, cleaned item and displayed them here and there.
Then she call about 30 antique dealers and set up appointments for each one, so there would never be more than one there buying at a time.
For my work, I got to keep all of the old toys and sporting goods.
Within eight days, the house was cleaned out of antiques and I didn't have to carry one single item.
Plus she sold all of the non antiques to a second hand dealer.
I had taken the toys home and sorted them. There was a box of about 160 old painted War Of 1812 British
soldiers in almost new condition. Plus trucks, cars, games, marbles and more that I can't remember. But, I remember the soldiers well.
In December of that year, my mother booked a 2 day Christmas Antique Show in Pulaski, NY. Off we went with a van full of goodies and set up at the show. It started snowing just after we arrived and we had rented our motel for two days, so the weather didn't mater. Except we may not have customers...oh well, we will think of it as a vacation.
For some reason, I had brought my nice box of little soldiers. On the second day, things were pretty quiet, so I put two of my soldiers on the table without price tags. A few minutes later a man came along and asked how much the soldier were. Not knowing, I told him to make an offer.
"How about 5 dollars each," He said in a very low voice."
I said louder, "What did you say?"
He said, "OK OK..I'll give you 7 dollars each and if you ever get anymore, I want first crack at them."
I know I was shaking like a wet dog as he counted out a stack 50 dollar bills and 1 twenty into my hand.
And he walked away with my Junk soldiers...Yep, Just plain old junk and I was holding 1120 green dollars in my shaking hand.....OH MY...did we ever have a nice Christmas in 1958.
That year, my dad's income was $4000, working 5 days a week at Cornell Univ.
So, my friends...you can see how toy soldiers shaped my life as an antique dealer...It's not junk...did I ever say it's Junk? Don't think so....
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
The Beginning
Hello,
Let me tell you a little bit about myself. My name Is Robert Hungerford and I reside at 8434 North Main Street, Lodi, NY 14860. I was born in 1942 at Seneca Falls, NY. I am married to my wonderful wife for 34 years. I have five sons.
I'm a retired antique dealer and still dabble into the business a bit. (sometimes quite a lot).
The reason for this blog, is to tell a little about my past and the people I have met. I guess you could say this is an autobiography with a twist. The twist being, I may at times go way off the map or a tangent of sort.
Sometimes my train of thought is interrupted by another thought and I have to write it down before I forget it.
I call this "Hunkyism 2" and you will learn more about Hunkyisms further along in this blog...come to think of it..who the hell named this thing a "blog"...that's really dumb. Let's give this "blank" a new name!
Let's see....how about dah? Have you listed in your dah today? NOO...that sounds too hippydom......
I got it.......FUNK.....that will be it from now on...I'm making it a law....a blog is now a funk....I'm going to write in my funk today....I amaze myself how silly and stupid I can get....just bare with me for the next few years, or how ever long I've got.
Also in this funk, I'm going to list old family photos...we have 100s of the damn things and some may be of interest to someone in the family...or not! But, photos are a picture of our past, so I have to list them. Plus I will write about local history and events of interest.
OH...let me explain Hungyisms..
A Hungyism is a saying, odd quote, comical idea, joke or other short dribble, made up by someone in our family. Plus, it must be original and good. Sometimes a Hungyism is when two people say the same thing at the exact same time. FUNK is a Hungyism, because it takes place of another word and it's use is original...
have I bored anyone yet? It's bound to happen and I enjoy it so much.
So, my fine family and friends (and you outsiders)..try to enjoy this funk and remember a lot of it is just plain crap. But, it's my crap and it took me 70 years to pile all of this crap up.....be Kind!
Let me tell you a little bit about myself. My name Is Robert Hungerford and I reside at 8434 North Main Street, Lodi, NY 14860. I was born in 1942 at Seneca Falls, NY. I am married to my wonderful wife for 34 years. I have five sons.
I'm a retired antique dealer and still dabble into the business a bit. (sometimes quite a lot).
The reason for this blog, is to tell a little about my past and the people I have met. I guess you could say this is an autobiography with a twist. The twist being, I may at times go way off the map or a tangent of sort.
Sometimes my train of thought is interrupted by another thought and I have to write it down before I forget it.
I call this "Hunkyism 2" and you will learn more about Hunkyisms further along in this blog...come to think of it..who the hell named this thing a "blog"...that's really dumb. Let's give this "blank" a new name!
Let's see....how about dah? Have you listed in your dah today? NOO...that sounds too hippydom......
I got it.......FUNK.....that will be it from now on...I'm making it a law....a blog is now a funk....I'm going to write in my funk today....I amaze myself how silly and stupid I can get....just bare with me for the next few years, or how ever long I've got.
Also in this funk, I'm going to list old family photos...we have 100s of the damn things and some may be of interest to someone in the family...or not! But, photos are a picture of our past, so I have to list them. Plus I will write about local history and events of interest.
OH...let me explain Hungyisms..
A Hungyism is a saying, odd quote, comical idea, joke or other short dribble, made up by someone in our family. Plus, it must be original and good. Sometimes a Hungyism is when two people say the same thing at the exact same time. FUNK is a Hungyism, because it takes place of another word and it's use is original...
have I bored anyone yet? It's bound to happen and I enjoy it so much.
So, my fine family and friends (and you outsiders)..try to enjoy this funk and remember a lot of it is just plain crap. But, it's my crap and it took me 70 years to pile all of this crap up.....be Kind!
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