Tuesday, July 27, 2010

July 27th - Hurray for Cabbage Soup and Machine Gun Tommy!

Ran 3 miles today at lunch. Total so far: 227/ Miles to go 773.

Well the results are in. After on week on the Cabbage Soup diet I lost 10 lbs. Put on a pair of khaki pants this morning that I could not button last week. There is an entire closet of clothes both here and in New York that I want to ware and can't. My goal is to lose another 17 pounds and see how they fit! I know that with any crash diet you can gain it back fast, but I am on a mission and this Cabbage Soup works for me. May incorporate it into my routine one week a month for a while.

Today I enjoyed eggs and bacon for breakfast (but no toast) and had soup with rice for lunch and for supper some pork tenderloin and steamed squash for dinner. In between I ate an apple, drank some non-sugar added fruit juice and had an Atkins Bar. Going to continue with moderation and my running and add some weight training...."Belly beware....I got my eye on you!"

Also spent some time this morning writing some stories that my dad used to tell me. They are part of a book I have been working on called An Extraordinary Ordinary Life, a biography of my dad. Mostly I want to preserve them for myself and for my family. I have told many of them to my kids. They have become part of the family folk lore, the oral tradition. Dad was the consummate story teller. In his later years, especially as he declined physically, we would talk by phone twice a day. He would regale me with stories and I never ceased enjoying hearing them. I miss him. This book is a tribute to the man. And for your enjoyment, here is one of his stories!

Machine Gun Tommy

My father was an extraordinary ordinary man. Born in Little Rock Arkansas on November 1, 1925, he was the first child of Cameron Jenson Camp and Salome Bridget Camp. His birth was followed by two more sons: Edward, who was "never quite right" and Johnny, the brash youngest later to be body builder and communist college professor who moved with family and 5 step sons to Canada in the 1960s so they could all avoid the draft. I remember the FBI coming by our house one time asking about him. But this is not their story, although their lives weave part of the tapestry that was the life of Cameron Jenson Camp, Jr. or "CJ" as he was known in his early years.

Dad did not talk a lot about his childhood, but when he did it was by way of stories. He was a born story teller and in these brief vignettes, we were transported to his world. Little Rock in the Great Depression. Machine Gun Tommy has always been one my my children's favorites. Tommy was a large kid and the butt of frequent jokes by his peers. His nick name came from his habit of farting in multiple spurts when excited or agitated.

Dad has a crush on a girl named Beatrice Fargo. Beatrice was both rich and smart. Dad was smart, the class clown, but poor an certainly not in her league. Trying to get her attention one day in class, Dad, who was sitting right behind Tommy, put a nail in his shoe and was kicking his foot closer and closer to Tommy's large behind. Tyring to ignore him, Beatrice could not help but watch in fascination as the nail came closer and closer to Tommy. In fact, most of the class was watching by this time as the oblivious teacher continued to write problems on the chalk board.

Once of Dan's friends, Edgar, as I recall, had been following the cadence of Dad's foot swings and just as Dad's food reached its zenith, a few inches from Tommy, Edgar gave Dad's food a swift kick, propelling the foot and nail into Tommy's plump posterior. Tommy yelled and proceeded to let out a series of his signature farts, machine gun style.

The class broke out in pandemonium. The furious teacher, upon surmising what had happened, send Dad to the Principal's office. Beatrice, her face red, could not help laughing and that was reward enough for Dad. Upon entering the Principal's office, Dad was still feeling triumphant.

"Why do you do these things, CJ? I sometimes think you must like getting punished" the tired Principal asked before administering another paddling.

The Principal never could understand Dad. Most kids who showed up in his office were poor students. Dad was smart and popular. He was elected student council president in Junior High. Being poor, he only had overalls to ware to a city wide meeting of all student council officers to represent the school. Dad told me he vividly remembered this same Principal asking him if he did not have something "more appropriate to ware?" Dad did not. But until then, he had never really thought about that much. Country people learn to get by.

Life is Good!

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