A hot, steaming cup of Columbian Dark Roast and water meets my lips. The brain shouts hallelujah as the liquid races through the pounding nerve endings, quelling the revolt and opening the neurons so that rational thought can resume. The clock is set for June 22, 1924. The location is Long Island, New York. The duration is one hour. The plunger is pulled, and we find ourselves at Mitchel Field near Garden City, Long Island.

Army First Lieutenant Russell Maughan is preparing his Curtiss P-1 Hawk for a dawn-to-dusk flight across America. He plans to be the first to fly across the North American continent in one day. The takeoff is scheduled for 3:58 AM tomorrow morning. He plans to land at Crissy Field near San Francisco before sundown. If so, the flight of 2670 miles will take 20 hours and 48 minutes.

In talking with the Lieutenant, he plans to make fueling stops at Dayton, Ohio; St. Joseph, Missouri; North Platte, Nebraska; Cheyenne, Wyoming; and the Bonneville Salt Flats at Salduro, Utah.

We wish him well just as the alarm heaves me into the down softness of the couch. I have a text from Linda Hill. It reads. Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “water.” Use it any way you’d like. Have fun!

To see how others have used the prompt, visit Linda’s post. Here is the link. https://lindaghill.com/2024/06/21/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-june-22-2024/

Water by John W. Howell © 2024

“So you snuck water in there up front.”

“Didn’t want to miss the opportunity.”

“How come you didn’t stay for the takeoff of the Lieutenant?”

“It is complicated.”

“Try me.”

“Okay. The flight took place on the 23rd of June in 1924.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Today is the 22nd. I didn’t want to go another day.”

“Ah. Your  obsessive compulsiveness made you want the time to be exactly 100 years.”

“Right.”

“I hope you get help with that. Well, did he male it?”

“Yes. He flew and arrived one minute before sundown on the West Coast, setting a record as the first to fly transcontinental in one day.”

“I guess that was important at the time.”

“Of course, it was. Aviation was new, and records were just waiting to be set.”

“Care to go for a new record?”

“Does this involve VooDoo Ranger by chance?”

“Well………”

“You call Uber?”

“Check it out. He’s over there.”

“OMG.”

“What?”

“Thant’s a 1966 Ford Fairlane two-door sedan.”

“How do you know that?”

“My first job was as a sales representative, and I had a company car like that, only blue.”

“I can’t imagine you as a sales rep. Door to door?”

“Aw, come on. I represented the company brands at retail.”

“Stores, you mean?”

“Yup. I ensured all was good so the consumer wouldn’t be disappointed by an out-of-stock item.”

“So you carried the company’s water.”

“Sure did.”

“Did they make water?”

“You are an idiot, you know that. Let’s get to the Voo Doo Ranger.”

“Right behind you. You can have shotgun too.”

“Since I’m buying, I hope so. Oh, I almost forgot. There will be no Views of the Neighborhood tomorrow. Going to be busy. I hope everyone  has a peaceful Sunday.”

Without delay, my precious cup of reality is delivered by my equally precious reality liquid delivery machine. No muss, fuss, or civil disobedience was incurred in the making of my steaming, frothy cup of Columbia’s second most popular export. One sip and my brain engages in summarizing the agenda for the day. At the top is the clock.

It is set for June 15, 1924, and the location is Paris, France. The duration is two hours. Pulling the plunger finds us at the Théâtre de la Cigale. We are going to witness the premier performance of the ballet Mercure. This ballet is choreographed by Léonide Massine. The music is by Erik Satie and costumes by (get this) Pablo Picasso. Yes, this is the final theater involvement of Picasso, who dabbled in the venue for about ten years. At the time, he was the leader of the cubist movement in art and was well-regarded.

As the performance begins, a group of artists from the surrealistic school of art demonstrate against Erik Satie by jumping on the stage and yelling, “Brave Picasso, down with Satie.”The police arrive, and the ballet continues after the order is restored. It was too bad for us since the demonstration took up most of the time. The alarm goes off, and couch landing 101 takes place. My text notification says Linda Hill has sent one. It reads: Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “sum.” Use the letters “sum” in a word in your post or use the word “sum.” Enjoy!

To see what others have done with the prompt, visit Linda’s post. Here is the link. https://lindaghill.com/2024/06/14/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-june-15-2024/https://lindaghill.com/2024/06/14/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-june-15-2024/

Sum by John W. Howell © 2024

“That was some melee, huh?”

“Yes, it was. The reviews for the ballet were good and Picasso given a lot of praise. There were only a very few performances, though.”

“Why’s that?”

“The show manager was over his head. The last show was on June 22. He figured he was at sum-zero on cost and time to pull up stakes.”

“That’s too bad. Sounds like it could have been something.”

“Given that was one hundred years ago, and people are still talking about it, I would agree.”

“Which brings up another classic.”

“Please don’t say VooDoo Ranger.”

“You said it.”

“Trapped like a rat.”

“I ordered Uber.”

“Let me guess a wheat combine.”

“No, take a look over there.”

“What is that?”

“A 39 Chevy.”

“Looks like a panel truck.”

“Only lots of custom work.”

“Okay, I’m ready. Shotgun.”

“Sum bebop, you got me.”

“For once.”

“What the hell?” is a question shouted out loud. Looking in my cup, there is one drop of coffee, after waiting on pins and needles for ten minutes. Grabbing the phone with the coffee machine app, it is quickly ascertained that my password has expired. Choosing a new password takes another ten minutes since various symbol and letter combinations are unacceptable.

Finally, the suggested strong-generated password is selected. It is now safely stored, god knows where in the cloud on a password chain that will never be found again. After a sip of the brain rescue fluid, the clock is secured.

The clock is set for June 8, 1924. The location is the Himalayan mountains in Tibet, and the time is one hour. The plunger is pulled, and we are transported immediately to the base of Mt. Everest.

English geologist Noel Odell catches sight of George Mallory and Andrew “Sandy” Irvine, two fellow members of a British expedition to climb Mount Everest, far in the distance, each man a “tiny black spot” silhouetted against the snow. By Odell’s reckoning, they are within about 800 vertical feet of the summit. It is the last time either Mallory or Irvine will be seen alive.

We do not know if Mallory ever reached the summit. His body was found in 1999, face down at 27,000 feet. He had a small camera that could have given information on whether or not the summit was reached. The camera and Andrew Irving’s body are missing. While contemplating the difficulty of climbing Mt. Everest, the alarm brings us back to the safety of the couch. There is a text from Linda Hill. It reads. Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “start with a question.” Begin your post with the first question that comes to mind when you sit down to write your post. Bonus points if you end your post with a question, too. Have fun!

To see what other bloggers do with the prompt, visit Linda’s blog. Here is the link. https://lindaghill.com/2024/06/07/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-june-8-2024/

Start with a Question by John W. Howell © 2024

“When was the mountain finally conquered?”

“On May 29, 1953, by New Zealand climber Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay, a Sherpa guide from Nepal.”

“Wow, that was a long time since 1924.”

“Yes, it was. When you figure the cold and lack of oxygen near the summit, it is no wonder so many have died in an attempt.”

“I wonder how many?”

“Since records have been kept beginning in 1922, 322 people have died on the mountain.”

“Goodness. I think I will pass on that bucket list item.”

“You had Everest on your bucket list?”

“Well, no, but it’s not going to be either.”

“I see. Do you think you could climb the Voo Doo Ranger hill?”

“Already ordered the Uber.”

“Don’t tell me.”

“Yup, that’s it over there.”

“A fully restored 1924 Model T Ford Tudor Sedan.”

“Yup, that’s it.”

“I am speechless. It is the same year we just visited.”

“I do have a question, though.”

“Yeah, shoot.”

“You opened this post with a story about your coffee machine password.”

“Yes. What’s the question?”

“What use is a password? Who the hell is going to steal coffee from a machine that sits in your kitchen?

My mind goes to the song Anticipation by Carley Simon, watching the precious drops of Columbian brown drip from the stainless machine into my double-sided glass mug. The crema forms at the top per the recipe, and the ten ounces of bliss is ready. A hurried gulp brings to mind the clock. The setting is June 1st, 1924, and the location is Chicago. The duration is set for an hour. When the plunger is pulled, we find ourselves on the corner of Dearborn and Madison Streets in downtown Chicago. This is the headquarters of the Chicago Tribune newspaper.

We are in time for Col. Robert R. McCormick’s announcement that what would become one of the most widely heard radio stations in the U.S. and a widely seen television station was created when the Chicago Tribune newspaper purchased Chicago’s WDAP radio station and renamed it WGN, an abbreviation of the Tribune slogan, “World’s Greatest Newspaper.”

Since Col. McCormick is a man of few words, it does not take long for the announcement and our alarm to sound. The couch proved to be a soft landing place, and my text notice tells me Linda Hill has sent this week’s prompt. It reads:

Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “recipe.” Use it any way you’d like. Enjoy!

To see what others have done with the prompt, visit her post. Here is a link. https://lindaghill.com/2024/05/31/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-june-1-2024/

Recipe by John W. Howell © 2024.

“Sounds like a recipe for success.”

“What does?”

“Tribune buying a radio station.”

“I agree with you.”

“I remember watching Bozo’s Circus on WGN television.”

“That was a great show.”

“WGN became a so-called superstation.”

“So true.”

“Big audience nationwide.”

“Yup.”

“You sound like you already knew this stuff.”

“I thought everybody knew this stuff.”

“Okay, I was trying to have a conversation.”

“I think we should do that over a VooDoo Ranger.”

“I can’t believe you are the one making that suggestion. I already called Uber.”

“Let me guess. He’s over there.”

“Yes, he is.”

“Look at that.”

“What is it?”

“I’m not sure. But I think it is a 1967 Dodge Polara 500.”

“You lived through years of cars, so I’ll not bet against you.”

“Sweet ride. Let’s go.’

A move to the coffee machine is necessary to find out what is taking so long. An investigation turns up the cause. The communication screen clearly asks if a regular cup or something special is required. Neglecting to make a choice sends the machine into hibernation. The original settings called for a regular 10 oz delivery. The machine must have taken some advice from the WordPress Happiness Engineers and decided to do something different. So the question is answered, and in a happy moment, the cup is delivered.

The clock is at hand, and after a sip of soothing syrup, the setting is May 24, 1924. The time is two hours, and the location is the South Lawn of the White House in Washington, DC. The plunger is pulled, and we arrive just in time to witness Calvin Coolidge signing the Immigration Act of 1924.

The act limited immigration in response to public and political anxiety about the country’s rapid social and demographic changes. The 1924 act supplanted earlier legislation by vastly reducing immigration from countries outside the Western Hemisphere: Immigrants from Asia were banned, and the total annual immigration quota for the rest of the world was capped at 165,000—an 80% reduction of the yearly average before 1914.

The law was passed in both houses of Congress with very few dissenting votes. A strong West Coast lobby effort designed to limit Asian immigration proved successful in the final passage of the law. The 1924 act would define U.S. immigration policy for nearly three decades, until being substantially revised by the Immigration and Nationality Act of 1952 and ultimately replaced by the Immigration and Nationality Act of 1965. The 1924 act also made provision for the founding of the US Border Patrol.

The act incensed the government of Japan, and some believe it laid the groundwork for the attack on the US in 1941.

It is a lovely day in Washington, and the signing ceremony on the South Lawn is brief. Our alarm goes off, and the couch becomes the new destination. A text notification comes through. It’s from Linda Hill and reads: Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “move.” Use it as a verb or a noun; write the first thing that comes to mind. Have fun!

Move by John W. Howell © 2024

“Boy, times have changed.”

“I know. Can you imagine banning an entire culture in this day and age?”

“Yeah, I don’t even want to comment on that.”

“Wise man.”

“I see you snuck the prompt in early.”

“I had to. There was the opportunity, and I took it.”

“Speaking of opportunity.”

“You want to move to the pub?”

“You are a mind reader as well.”

“It doesn’t take a mind reader to figure out your move on a Saturday.”

“Bam. He does it again.”

“Uber?”

“Over there.”

“I would say you’re kidding, but I know that is not true.”

“Fully air-conditioned. Room for three. Yes, I’ll stand.”

“What did this cost?”

“Nothing. A friend of mine owns it. We just need to deliver a hay bale, is all.”

“To the pub?”

“No, there’s a farm a little bit out of the way.”

“How far out of the way?”

“Two hours.”

“Aw, man. Let’s just get a car.”

“And miss the fun?”

“I know I’m going to regret this.”

“It’ll be fun.”

“I’ve heard that before. Okay, Let’s go.”

“You won’t be sorry.”

“I think I already am.”