Mid City Meddler

Mid City Meddler
By Muffy Junes

It's no wonder you stay sick so much these days. Especially if you live in the Ohio Valley, where everyone has such bad "allergies." The low-riding pollens, molds and pig butt smells are causing a stink among everyone I come across. Every change of season brings a new excuse for the hacky, stuffed-up residents of this area. I have a personal theory, however, that has nothing to do with trees breeding. I'm not sure who the plan originated with, but someone, perhaps one of those mobile agitation groups, has created an unhealthy, wicked cycle of sneaky tongue sucking, germ swapping, wet kiss warfare. The plan is working at an alarming rate, too. In my whole life, I've never known so many repeat victims of pneumonia, bronchitis, sinusitis and overall crud. Whatever happened to the common cold, anyhow? Here's how the mysterious members of the group are succeeding, based on my own experiences.

Day One of My Enlightenment: I go to nearby bakery in hopes of securing fruit küchen. (Yes, "küchen.") A woman, very mature in years, slowly retrieves my küchen from the flies entertaining under the glass counter. She hesitantly proceeds to the boxing area, where my purchase will be nicely wrapped. Somehow, during the approximate four foot walk, she manages to sneeze on my küchen. Not once, but three times. Three little bitty snorts. As I stare in fear, wondering if or when I should speak up, she places the tainted treat by the box and coughs. Little coughs - hh, hh, hh. Aghast, but not wanting her to fall apart, I ask for the other küchen, if that's okay. The festive flies were not so much a threat, but the thought of tongue-sucking this kindly but sick elderly woman was just plain unnatural. And age had nothing to do with it, really. There was a bit of "why I never!" but overall it was acceptable, and I proudly presented the fruit pizza to a neighbor.

Day Two: While visiting DJ friend at unspecified Louisville nightspot, on a Tuesday, tequila shots are purchased for intimate birthday celebration. (Not mine, which is this month, but someone else's.) Just before the toast is touching lips, I halt the ingestion in hopes of acquiring lime and salt. I finally get the attention of the bartender, who is thoroughly blowing her nose. She picks up the limes, hands me the dirty salt shaker and I'm on my way. Rather than suck her nose, I politely walk away with yucky limes and deposit them on the floor. See, now her nose germs are on someone's feet, who took a little of her into his or her house, where the kids play on the floor. Those might be some sick kids.

I paid bills today, and licked about ten envelopes. Wonder who's in charge of those. Luckily, stamps are now pre-sticky. The tip money I make, though greatly appreciated, has major warfare potential. Especially the bills with little handwritten sayings, like "You are blessed if you hold this dollar" and crap like that. Naturally, I read the stuff, but I figure those idle folks are freaks.

For the sake of space, I must limit my examples to these few, but feel free to start a journal in which you list your own experiences - recognition /recourse is the only way to defeat the germers. Sorta like an Oprah thing.

I have passed many a karaoke microphone to a guy named Chuck, yet he manages to stay healthy. Obviously, he doesn't share his sax. Chuck plays saxophone in a band called Holy Name Band Of Louisville. I knew he played in a band, but only recently learned that the band has over 60 members. Sheesh! They require chairs, too. Check this out - Father Joe Emrich (now deceased) formed Holy Name Band in 1939 as an all-male, all-Catholic group. These days, however, it is open to all, regardless of age, sex, denomination or whatever. This is a horn band, a delightful throw-back to the Big Band, "Lawrence Welk-y" era. Still a relatively young man, Chuck joined in 1964! That commitment is astounding to me, considering I can't keep a band together for more than a year or two. Even neater, though, is the fact that some of the original members are still playing. This band is a bonding of generations, bringing together hobbyists and pros, elders and students. Director Joe Herde sways his baton to the rhythm of such favorites as "Third Street Rhumba" and "The Irish Washerwoman." They might medley out on show tunes or horn-croon you with "I Left My Heart In San Francisco," but who can resist the reverence of uniform respect - white shirt/blouse, dark skirt/pants. And ties for the men. HNB performs free one-hour concerts at various venues, including (but not limited to), nursing homes, retirement communities and seasonal events. They usually perform Mondays at 7:30 p.m., so call the HNB hotline and go enjoy something wholesome! For bookings and upcoming concerts, the number is 635-2874.

Now put the paper down and go wash your hands!



Call /email me with your band/mid city info: (502) 485-1989/ mufalata@iglou.com