Welcome to the Tiki Hut Lounge

 Mai Tai? Tropical Smoothie? Mango? Pineapple crisps?

75 degrees, sunny and no bugs!

 Players on the lanai at St. Paul Katie's Poker Club 601 were rewarded with a Hawaiian-themed ambiance yesterday, the clubrooms being readied for the upcoming Letnes Luau Feb. 2. The veterans were not distracted, however, and stuck to their chips in a rousing afternoon of strategy, luck and bad beats. Tom "No Tell" emerged victorious and was followed by Two Buck Theis. Everyone had ample fun and will do it again, perhaps joined by some new players. 

Above, Front row,  Long Shot Laurie, St. Paul Katie. Back row is Two Dollar, Seattle John, and No Tell.

Nanners, Trips Queen, Miss M'liss, Little Bro, Grampa Gary, and others are the handles of potential players rounding out future tables. Many have not played since Covid, and look forward to working out the rust with a rousing game of Texas Hold 'Em.

A capital idea

 It was in the bowels of the Indianapolis Star that I saw my first photo typesetting machine. The Army has lots of Temporary Duty Training opportunities and I grabbed at this one, even though I knew I would be out of service by 1973, God and Nixon willing.

The machine was as big as a refrigerator, and inside its light-tight chamber, a couple of font strips spun madly around an axle, faster than a clothes dryer. A sharp beam of light, timed by something called a computer, shot through the spinning font strip, perfectly timed to expose photo paper with a single letter of the alphabet.

Our squad of Information Specialists from around the country gasped as eventually a cartridge of photo sensitive paper was run through a light-tight box of chemicals, resulting in a column of newspaper type.

Photo offset, huh. A miracle of ingenuity. Little did I know it would be life-changing.

Heretofore, my only experience was akin to that of Johann Gutenberg, stamping ink on paper via letterpress. As a high school newspaper sports editor, I had watched Bud Akers (I think that was his name) manipulate heavy lead slugs into a page of news at the Lake Region Farmer. I couldn’t help notice that a career of heavy metal machines and saws had apparently left Bud missing a few fingers.  I didn’t ask. 

The same Compugraphic refrigerator box was grinding and overheating at the Chaska Herald when I got out of the service and took the only job available to me: an editor at $6 an hour.

The emerging technology and the fast-growing suburb would create a space for me to grow and raise a family. Timing is everything. The new efficiency and innovation of the industry forced the consolidation of smaller papers, collectivizing them into chains and corporations, changing forever the ownership of local news, with profits leaving the community, after expenses were paid.

I was part of that revolution and benefitted from it, the ultimate result of capitalism and its mandate to merge and grow.

I innovated and took advantage of every opportunity presented by the digital age and it brought me a good life. Eventually, all typewriters were replaced, telephones were replaced, paste ups were replaced, floppy disks were replaced.

And then local newspapers were replaced.

Self-publishing enterprises on the internet followed new rules. It was the end of an era, spanning my entire career, lasting just long enough to retire me in comfort.

All the newspapers that I ran are gone now, there are new voluntary groups emerging who have realized what a hole in the quality of life they have left behind in their communities. They are bringing local news to the internet in a whole new way. I wish them well.

Invitation to players

High atop the Southwest Station within the deeper reaches of the Greater Minneapolis-St Paul Metropolitan area, gamblers unite Wednesday morning for an epic display of wit, strategy and rust.

The focus of this happy event will be renewal of friendships, introductions and polite exchanges. But don’t be fooled. Buried within each player burns a competitive spirit, eager to scorch his neighbor, and crush the entire table of hopefuls, with a flourish of inspired play.

Bad beat stories are restricted to the Loser Lounge, where sloppy joes mingle with sad tales of what could have been.

The action begins at High Noon, Wednesday, January 22 in the Letnes Luau casino, Room 601. Five hands will be dealt, unless plans have changed. Registered players are No Tell Bartel, Seattle John, Long Shot Laurie, St.Paul Katie, and No Name Theis. Unable to play are Trip Queen, Nanners, Grampa Gary, Miss M’liss, Little Bro and others, but they plan on making future appearances to take on the winner. An open seat remains at the table, and, if plans have changed, another player would be a welcome addition.

According to Maitre ‘dHotel Stan Schmenge, house rules prohibit spitting, smoking, cheating and cat kicking. Proper attire required, to include bowling shirts, Hawaiian garb. Straw hats and leis provided. No trump means No Trump talk allowed and will be enforced.

Early birds welcome to discuss rules and procedures and count chips. 

Front door at 12900 Technology Drive is open, Elevate to the sixth floor. Keep your shoes on. Welcome. Aloha.

It makes a difference

Experienced cooks know the difference between Big T and Little t. There are three teaspoons in a tablespoon. Baking powder makes batter light and airy. This knowledge was gained over time by my sisters as they learned mandatory culinary skills.

Once upon a time my father fancied himself a writer’s studio and contracted Mr. Clair Helgeson to build it. Mr. Helgeson was a member of our church, and therefore eminently qualified to build a suitable edifice, one that was sure to draw the inspiration needed to create a best seller. Roger Sharp was among the carpenter crew that summer day, using nothing but hand tools and saws, since there was no electricity at the site. Healthy appetites resulted.

They were now ready for a break and an afternoon snack, courtesy of the host family. My sisters had been detailed for this task; baking a plate of cookies for a crew of hungry men was definitely women’s work. I, of course, was at the job site with the men, picking up manly nails or some other child’s task. The girls set about their duties in the home kitchen, about 300 yards away.

Exactly at the appointed time, the pre-teen girls proudly delivered their creation to the men: a plate of freshly-baked cookies and a beverage, probably a sugary Kool-aid. Sadly, it wasn’t long before a critical discovery was made: The girls had used a Big T and not a Little t when measuring the baking powder. Baking powder, I am told, raises the batter, making the cookies light and airy. The men immediately detected the mistake, there was enough air in these cookies to fill a balloon.

Roger Sharp was an excellent carpenter; he was also the father of a daughter who was Solveig’s age and he was no doubt aware of the sensitivities of these earnest young cooks. While the rest of us politely declined to finish the offering, he declared the cookies to be the best ever, and exuberantly helped himself to another dreadful mistake.

Roger didn’t die that day, he went right back to work. But he had just taught Little me a lesson about how to some day be a Bigger Man.

 

Ante Up!

It's been a long time since these poker chips have seen any action. Pre-covid probably. Time to get them out and fill a table's worth of players for the Southwest Station Invitational! Six chair cushions have arrived by special delivery and will complete the table, now eased for the long-play seniors.

A list of prospective players, many of them former table mates, but some new faces as well, will make up the Inaugural Texas Hold 'Em Revival entrants.

Contact St. Paul Katie or Stand Up Stan if you're interested in joining the fun. All in on the Turn! You can Buy Back.

Fight winter blues with Hawaiian luau

 Aloha. If you are a relative of my dear sister Linda, you are invited to the exclusive "Letnes Luau," a gathering of three generations of her progeny all in one room, a rare occurrence given scheduling conflicts these days. Details will arrive later, but with the preponderance of vegans, vegetarians, animal rights people, Jews and Moslem friends, and just plain fussy eaters, let it be known that no pigs will be harmed in the production of the Hawaiian feast, despite tradition and expectation. A special ukulele artist has been secured to provide authentic atmosphere. Hawaiian shirts, etc encouraged. Leis provided. No beach balls please.