I’m told that eveyone should have a hobby. If “hobby” means collecting something like stamps or coins, I don’t have one.
I did start collecting brass when my friend, Lorna, and I went out to hit the “junk” stores. We couldn’t afford antique stores. I passed on anything made of glass or pottery because when our sons got into a wrestling match, nothing was safe unless it was something that wouldn’t break when they knocked the table over. That’s what started me on brass. Lorna collected pewter and I didn’t want to compete.
I guess if Mom had a hobby, it was baking. She made a wonderful sugar cookie which involved my grinding an entire pound of raisins. I thought I brought her recipe home with me, but grabbed the wrong loose-leaf notebook.
Dad’s hobby was fishing. I’m not knocking fishing as a relaxing way to pass a bit of quality time, but I spent too many hours sitting in a rowboat in the middle of a lake and in the hot sun while he indulged his hobby. There was no heading for shore until he caught an arbitrary quota of fish, one he had set.
Even Mom would get enough now and then and begin singing — with increasing volume — a ditty which may have been original. She called it “Pull for the Shore, Sailor.” It didn’t seem to hurry him.
So, as a child, I logged my personal limit of worms and fishing poles. I decided at an early age that I would never marry a fisherman or, if I slipped up, a man who did not insist that I share his enthusiasm.
I never presented my Best Friend with a questionnaire to determine his interest in fishing, but was gratified to learn that he was indifferent to fishing as a pastime. But, when No. 1 son wanted to go fishing, my BF (to his credit) gamely took him out to the lake. Furthermore, he didn’t insist that I go along.
No. 2 son, a boy after my own heart, was bored with that sort of inactivity. On one memorable day No. 1 had saved a can of worms and my BF took him to Deming Park to try his luck along with No. 2, who decided it sounded like fun. After about 30 minutes of “fun,” he was ready to go home, but No. 1 insisted he wouldn’t go until all the worms were gone. With that, No. 2 threw the entire can into the pond and said, “NOW, let’s go home!”
Dad was far more understanding of a child’s lack of patience when it came to his grandson. He took No. 1 fishing, and as soon as the kid caught a fish, he announced that he was ready to go home. So, Dad struck for the shore.
Maybe I’d have learned to like fishing if he had done that when I was a kid.
Liz Ciancone
LIZ CIANCONE: She wasn’t hooked by the fishing hobby
- Liz Ciancone
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LIZ CIANCONE: Another beloved dog goes to heaven
We are short one granddog. This past week, “Indy” could no longer use her back legs and she went to that great dog kennel in the hereafter.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Withdrawn society not very social any more
My Best Friend and I went out for lunch the other day. It was a sit-down place with our own “server” (in my day I was called “a waitress”) and everything offering personal attention. The manager even came over to ask if everything was all right.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Technology, new fabrics made ironing much easier
As surely as Tuesday follows Monday on the calendar, ironing day followed wash day on Mom’s housekeeping chart.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Looking back at memories of ‘history’
I was reading a whodunit the other day. The protagonist was trying to solve the mystery of what had happened to a local citizen soldier who had disappeared during the war.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Smell of fresh air gave way to dryers
Remember when clean clothes smelled like fresh air and sunshine rather than fabric softener and dryer sheets?
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LIZ CIANCONE: Courts see a different appearance than cops
Have you ever noticed the transformation between the arrest of an accused lawbreaker and the first appearance in court?
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LIZ CIANCONE: We always want more than we need
Washington seems more preoccupied with the unemployment rate than they are about the constant stalemate. Still with thousands out of work and the unemployment rate hovering somewhere between 7 percent and 9 percent, it does deserve more than a passing nod.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Old age is in email of the beholder
My Best Friend isn’t much for writing letters, so email has opened a new world for him. He can dash off a few words to a high school friend or his college roommate — now living in Florida and Washington State,
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LIZ CIANCONE: A memory test from the oldtime radio days
For some reason, I seem to be the go-to source for all sorts of obscure information out at the Wabash Valley Family Sports Center.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Friskey no doubt was in favor of gun control
I once owned a gun. Actually, it was Dad’s gun and I was allowed to use it. He bought an air gun which shot BB’s to protect our home — in a way.
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LIZ CIANCONE: A robin stops to welcome the spring
I saw a robin the other morning. It was not the first robin of spring, of course. A few of the more daring robins had opted to spend the winter and, although they looked pretty sorry about it on a few occasions, it was a fairly mild winter.
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LIZ CIANCONE: The mystery of the small animal mascot
I hope you won’t think I’m picking on small animals, but I’ve been thinking about Easter and the Easter bunny.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Rising up to defend the poor groundhog
I read in the newspaper the other morning that Punxsatawney Phil is being hauled into court and charged with falsely predicting an early spring. I am volunteering my services as counsel for the defense.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Keeping eye out for signs of spring
The problem with expecting a groundhog to predict the arrival of spring is that there are groundhogs scattered all over the country. The Pennsylvania groundhog may not see the same kind of weather as the groundhog out here in Dobbs Park. In this way, false hopes are roused and the groundhog loses credibility as a meteorologist.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Not every other name smells sweet as a rose
It was either Romeo or Juliet who said, “What’s in a name? A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”
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LIZ CIANCONE: Innocence appreciated when you’re growing up
I grew up rather stupid. I didn’t realize it at the time. Neither did my teachers who seemed to think I had “promise.”
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LIZ CIANCONE: Years along rivers make them feel like home
I’ve been following plans for celebrating “The Year of the River” with interest. Rivers have played such a role in my life that I’ve celebrated a good many rivers. The Wabash River is merely the most recent example.
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LIZ CIANCONE: There are always cat stories to be told
I was asked the other day why I write about dogs I have known, but never about cats. “What’s the matter?” they asked, “Don’t you like cats?”
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LIZ CIANCONE: Sharing the family history
My Grandmother lived with us. Ed and I were eager audiences for her family stories about the Cooks. Mom also shared her memories of growing up with three brothers.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Do we want our privacy or not?
We Americans are a strange bunch. We insist upon our right to privacy, yet we neglect few opportunities to parade our personal business in public.
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LIZ CIANCONE: The low humor of Mickey Mantis
I’m told that a pun is the lowest form of humor. I guess that typecasts me! I love them, but then, I like any type of word play.
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LIZ CIANCONE: For now, justice is served in Bball Hall
News this past week brought justice of a sort. The folks who decide these things have declined to pick anyone to be enshrined in the Baseball Hall of Fame this year.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Well, what would you do with only 1 sock?
Let me ask you something.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Movie memories don’t include many of the lengthy variety
There has been lots of reporting lately about how long movies are becoming.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Resist that big ‘let down’ on the day after Christmas
Today is the big day. That makes tomorrow a sort of let down — rather like “What have you done for me lately?”
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LIZ CIANCONE: No thanks to getting mags delivered via the Internet
I am a creature of habit. I like to know what I’m doing and I need to know how to do it. That’s why I am annoyed when corporate America seems determined to drag me, kicking and screaming into the age of Internet.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Everyone has a favorite holiday
I suppose everyone has a favorite holiday. My guess is that, for most of us, that holiday is Christmas. It's a holiday with a miracle no matter how old we get.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Christmas season puts time back into focus
It’s a funny thing about time. It can speed along so that you cannot believe that your kids can possibly be old enough to have good sense, or it can drag its heels while you wait for that first grandchild or while you are saving up for something really special.
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LIZ CIANCONE: The bottom line is what drives ‘Black Friday’ sales
Why is it called "Black Friday"?
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LIZ CIANCONE: Have we lost the meaning of holiday?
I’ve been considering a lost-and-found ad to see if anyone knows what’s happened to Thanksgiving.
- More Liz Ciancone Headlines
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LIZ CIANCONE: Another beloved dog goes to heaven




