I frequently say that the way I feel about tomatoes is "immoral" because I "lust" for them. I haven't had a decent-tasting red tomato since my brother Norman died; he always planted
"heirloom" tomatoes and he saved his seeds from year-to-year, just as our grandfather did eons ago!
Gerald's brother-in-law Jerry was a champion tomato grower, usually introducing an unusual tomato each year--one year he produced a BLACK tomato-- along with his marvelous varieties, but Jerry is no longer able to garden. My brother Duke raises only yellow tomatoes which I also relish, but nothing satisfies like a luscious, hot-from-the-garden red tomato. Gerald has planted numerous types throughout the years, but most have disappointed.
When I whined that "tomatoes don't taste as good as they used to", I was told that "as we get older", we lose our taste buds. I replied, "Oh, Hell, I can tell if something tastes different!"
AHA! Read the following from one of my favorites sites, The Wise Geek:
It's not just your imagination. Today's tomatoes simply don't taste the way they used to, and now science has told us why. Researchers working on a study published in the journal Science, performed exhaustive taste tests of 100 tomato varieties and sequenced the genomes of nearly 400 varieties.
They were able to identify 23 volatile compounds that give a tomato its flavor. Unfortunately, many of these compounds, plus essential sugars, are missing from today's supermarket tomatoes; they were inadvertently lost when the industry sought to maximize yields and improve tomatoes' resistance to pests and disease.
Study author Antonio Grannel said, "The flavor got lost because people didn't know that the molecular and genetic bases were, so they couldn't apply them. Major seed producers are expected to use the new genetic information to make seeds that will grow into new, tastier tomatoes, possibly within 4 years."
FOUR YEARS? I cannot wait four years. Gotta get some heirloom seeds!
In yesterday's article I told my friend's granddaughter that I had experienced "a revolution in my lifetime."; I could tell she thought it was hyperbole. I just e-mailed this article from Sue's News, published in 2012, to share a few examples:
WE'VE COME PART OF THE WAY, BABY!
My friend Lori is young enough (old enough) to be my daughter, if I had been married at 18. Our mutual friend Betty is three years older than I and has children around Lori's age. Lori, Betty, and I were having dinner together, and I was joyfully telling about recently seeing, hearing, and meeting Lilly Ledbetter.
Lori asked Betty and me if our work experiences had made us into the feminists we are. Suddenly, examples came pouring out of Betty and me. I told Lori that when we were young, we couldn't get credit in our own names. If we were fortunate to secure credit, it had to be in the name of our husband, or father, or by using some subterfuge.
I told her how I had gotten a Lazarus credit card because a friend of mine worked in the credit department at Lazarus and she submitted information in the name of "P. S. Shirkey", and since it didn't request gender on the application, it was assumed I was a male and I was issued a card.
When Gerald and I married in 1971, Gerald had never established any kind of credit. When I went to Lazarus to change the name on my credit card, I was informed that the account had to be transferred to Gerald's name as he was considered the "head of household" although I had a larger income than he did and had established credit. The card was issued with the name MRS. GERALD RAYPOLE, not as Phyllis Sue Shirkey-Raypole. It wasn't that I was offended to be Mrs., but after all, I had my own name. I have kept that card because I never want to forget how it was "back in the day". Betty told Lori that when she married she had credit and her husband's credit was bad, but she inherited her husband's poor credit, which she struggled to correct.
Lori said, "I know you guys are telling the truth, but it's still unbelievable!"
We continued with examples, with Lori gasping "WHAT?" at each example.
Betty said, "Women couldn't draw unemployment if their husbands were working."
"WHAT?"
I said, "A woman couldn't be head of household on income taxes!"
"WHAT?"
Betty said, "We weren't allowed to work overtime."
"WHAT?"
I said, "Women were kept out of many jobs such as supervision because the law stated they could only work 8 hours a day."
"WHAT?"
Betty said, "And we weren't allowed to lift more than 30 pounds."
"WHAT?"
I said, "We were denied jobs simply because we were of child-bearing age."
"WHAT?"
Betty said, "We couldn't even apply for police or fire jobs!"
WHAT?"
I told her that until 1964 it was legal to pay women less for doing the same work as men.
"WHAT?"
I said, "That's why the Civil Rights Act of 1964 was so important to women--those damned Southerners like Howard Smith of Virginia, put gender in the bill--to try to get it defeated. Ironically, that Act helped women more than any other group!"
Betty said, "That's karma, isn't it?"
I said, "Now you know why I am always saying thanks to LBJ!"
I HAVE seen a revolution in my lifetime.
I told Lori that when I worked at North American Rockwell, I became the first female Manufacturing Manager in the history of the Company, and that was 1984.
I told about Carmen Chafin, who was old enough to be my mother and Carmen had worked at North American in the 1950s, 19690s, and 1970s, but women were not allowed to be "A" mechanics, although they were allowed to be the lower-paying "B" mechanics. During those times, Carmen trained many new male employees who went on to become "A" mechanics. When there were lay-offs, "B" mechanics would be laid off first; they would keep the "A"--all MALE--mechanics. After a number of lay-offs and call-backs at North American, Carmen took a job at Western Electric. When she lost her job there, she returned to North American in 1982; she was hired as a "B" mechanic, despite her prior experience. When Rockwell assumed North American, the Company still had the classifications for "A" and "B" mechanics. Many men and women, without prior aircraft experience, were hired as "B" mechanics, but Carmen, with her years of experience, was re-hired as a "B" mechanic. When she told me her story, I immediately went to Human Resources and related the inequity. Carmen Chafin became the FIRST female "A" mechanic at North American Rockwell.
When I began working in a factory, I would never have believed that I could progress as I did; however, I should have been able to progress further (but that's another story).
When I see lawsuits filed against Walmart, Goodyear, and other reprehensible companies, I remember the old Virginia Slims commercial You've come a long way, Baby! and I mumble to myself and think, "We've only come PART of the way, Baby!"
Commercial - Virginia Slims Cigarettes 1967... by RetroCafe
Recently, a friend of mine who is a contemporary, told me that she was reading The Handmaid's Tale as part of her Book Club. She asked if I had read the book and I told her, "I have the book; I read it when it came out; I think in the 1980s."
She asked my opinion and I said, "Oh, I love to be able to use the words 'dystopian' and 'cautionary tale' but they are very a propos!" She told me she'd urged her teenage granddaughter to read the book because they were planning to watch the series on television. The granddaughter pooh-poohed the possibility of women losing their hard-won rights.
My friend asked me to talk to her granddaughter to let her know the "way it was" for women of our generation and to fight to never let it go backwards.
I gave her the Sue's News article below, which I published in 2010:
TOKEN TIME
I always knew that I was NOT a "token", because I knew that I was qualified for any job or promotion I received, but I was often "paraded out" to show visitors just how "progressive" the companies were. When it happened, I would mutter under my breath, "TOKEN TIME". My mother always told me that I needed to work like a HORSE, act like a LADY and then they would treat me as a WOMAN. I spent my work-life in non-traditional, so-called "men's jobs", but my mother told me I would always have to work twice as hard just to be considered equal. For nearly all of my work-life I was the ONLY female in the management teams; my proudest accomplishment was that late in my career, I was able to promote other qualified women.
When I became the FIRST female manufacturing supervisor at Mead, the Company newspaper featured an article about me and I felt like the story about Dr. Johnson's talking dog: it wasn't that people were surprised that the dog could talk, but that he could do it well! [Now you know where my often-used phrase "I do it well" comes from!]
One time, at International Harvester, in the 1970s, we had a group of potential buyers from China tour the plant and they were brought to meet me in my department. It took me a few seconds to realize that I was being introduced to THEIR "token" woman because all of them in the delegation were small in stature and dressed exactly the same, wearing the green Mao uniform. I know that my Company and the Chinese delegation didn't expect what transpired between the Chinese woman and me. Fortunately, her English was very good. She asked "Are you the only woman?" I laughed and said, "Yes". She bowed to me and I bowed to her and then we reached out and hugged each other and we both squealed with laughter. I told her about "Token Time" and she said that she felt the same way. I could see the discomfort on the face of the President and CEO of my Company as he was unsure of what was transpiring! I wouldn't want to use a stereotype, but the Chinese men WERE inscrutable so I wasn't able to judge their opinion.
I often wondered what she said to her comrades later.
When I went to interview at Rockwell, it was June 5, 1982; I had lost my job at International Harvester on April 15. I thought I didn't have a chance in Hell of getting the job; I had already been interviewed by the Personnel Department and I was told that the final and determining interview would be done by Don Waddell, who had returned to the company after his retirement; he would launch the Nacelle program. I was warned by Personnel that he was a very critical interviewer and that I probably wouldn't get the job. I thought, "Why the Hell did they bring me in to interview if they knew I wouldn't be hired? Oh, yeah, a government contract; that's why!"
There I was, in my de rigueur, perfect blue suit, white blouse, navy blue pumps, and matching Coach briefcase. Mr. Waddell, more than six feet tall, met me at the Personnel Department and we traipsed across the building to his office in the Nacelles Department. Everything in the plant was covered with tarpaulins. I thought that my chances were nil and that this was "an exercise in futility" because I had no aircraft background. We sat down and I saw my resume on his desk and something was circled in red. When he started to talk, I could tell he was from southern Ohio.
He began by telling me that he would be required to hire so many "minorities" but he wasn't going to hire anybody he didn't want. I swallowed hard at that remark and of course I was uncomfortable with his telling me that, but I just sat and behaved myself. He also told me that Personnel was trying to force people from other Rockwell plants on him, because they had preferential hiring practice for other Rockwell people, but that he was going to pick his own team. He said, "I see that you must know something about these Gemcors"; I answered that I did. He said, "That's good, 'cause I don't know nuthin' about them." He said, "They hired this German guy as an Engineer over them for the whole plant and I don't care much for him, so I need somebody I can trust in my Department." I was swallowing frantically because it sounded as if he were interested in ME. Dare I hope? He said, "I figured you had to have a lot on the ball to get where you got." Then he asked, "You wanna go down and see where you'll be working?" I answered, "Yes, sir.", as if it were the most normal thing in the world to be going to see my workplace after the strangest interview in my life.
As we returned to his office, he told me that he would "get me in" but it might take awhile because he had to "go through the motions with Personnel"; he asked if I would be O.K. being on unemployment. I told him that I would NOT be receiving unemployment compensation because I still had two weeks of my salary continuation from International Harvester and that I had received a job offer from another company yesterday and I would accept it and wait until he called me. When he told me it might be as late as the "end of the year", my hopes plummeted, but I maintained a brave exterior. When I returned to Personnel after the interview, I was asked how the interview had gone and I said, "Very well." I knew better than to divulge that he'd told me that I was going to have a job.
Each week after the interview, Mr. Waddell's Secretary Jonda Trace would call me to tell me that Mr. Waddell wanted to talk to me. Each week, he assured me that I was going to be on his Team. I received the job offer from Personnel on November 1 and I began work on November 15, after six months of being on tenterhooks.
Several months after I was hired, I told Jonda how I had been so worried all those months even though Mr. Waddell kept reassuring me. She said, "You never had to worry; you passed the FLOOZY TEST." I was stunned by the remark and asked what she meant. She said, "They kept sending all those women from Tulsa Rockwell and other places, expecting Mr. Waddell to hire one of them, but he would tell me he had to interview them but he wasn't going to hire any of those floozies!" Then she said, "After he met you, he told me he'd found the gal he was going to hire because he knew you'd had to work hard to get where you'd gotten and every week he would say, 'Get hold of that little girl from down in the sticks!' and I'd call you!"
Mr. Waddell had informed the Company that he would stay only to have Aircraft One launched, which we completed ahead of schedule and under budget. At his retirement party, Mr. Waddell leaned over and whispered to me, "You'll be the first woman Manager in the history of Rockwell!" I have said he's the only man who could make me feel like I was twelve years old. I squealed with delight and said, "Oh, Mr. Waddell!" ( I swear I sounded like Mary Tyler Moore's Mary Richards with Lou Grant.)
Thank you, Don Waddell, for giving me the opportunity and for the happiest years of my entire work life.
I am glad I hadn't corrected him about all those ILLEGAL things he'd said during my interview!
BUSMAN'S HOLIDAY definition:
I have taken numerous plant tours because I am fascinated how things are made and how people work. From widely varied manufacturing environments such as meat-packing, pet-food, soft drinks, cosmetics, paper, corrugated materials, tool-making, automotive and aircraft, all were very interesting.
The requirements for manufacturing pet food are stricter than rules for foods for human consumption, but do you really want to know how many "roach bodies" are allowed ppm (parts per million) are allowed in food products for human beings? After touring the pet food plant, I said, "You COULD eat off the floors there!" After seeing sausage and hot dogs being produced, I laugh when I tell people, "I still eat hot dogs after seeing them be made!"
It was thrilling to see Corvettes being built and final assembly of aircraft. My brother says I'm probably the only person who wants to go to art museums and manufacturing plants with the same enthusiasm.
One of my favorite tours was at the Sunbeam plant in Olathe, Kansas. I actually took my mother's still-operational Sunbeam Mixmaster which she had told me had been bought "after the war."; they verified that the mixer had been manufactured in 1947. It still works! It is in our garage, because I can't stand to get rid of it! When I married I received a chrome Mixmaster and toaster as wedding presents and we retired Mother's Mixmaster to a cupboard, keeping it "just in case" something happened to the new one. We used the chrome Mixmaster until we moved to our present location in 1984 and purchased the red Kitchen Aid, but we keep the chrome Mixmaster, "just in case"!
I loved the television series How It's Made on the Science Channel and How Stuff Works on the Discovery Channel.
I always liked it when customers visited our plants and enjoyed answering questions.
My brother bought a Kitchen Aid mixer and I soon had "mixer envy" because of all the assorted attachments with his mixer. I didn't need a mixer; in fact, the gleaming, chrome, Sunbeam Mixmaster and toaster I'd received as wedding presents were still in fine working order and looked quite nice in the previous kitchen, but a red Kitchen Aid mixer would look absolutely perfect in our strawberry-wallpapered kitchen, wouldn't it? We still had my mother's Sunbeam Mixmaster from the late 1940s stored in the cabinet as a "back-up"; it was still working, although the speeds on the dial had worn off years ago.
But if one has one red appliance, then all the others should match--right? Thus, we now have all Kitchen Aid appliances: mixer, toaster, blender, and coffee pot, but dammit, Kitchen Aid does not make a stand-alone can opener; Kitchen Aid only offers a can opener attachment to use on the front of the mixer; I had to settle for a red West Bend can opener which "almost" matches in color to the Kitchen Aid appliances. All the old appliances were placed in storage to use at our political headquarters during election campaigns.
Obviously I needed to have red Fiesta ware everyday dishes, didn't I? It was very easy to convince myself. Oh, and yes, I obviously needed that Fiesta canister set, right?
I wailed, "Oh, no, I've lost my best friend!" I held up my Sunbeam heat pad with the control panel flashing "F". After unplugging, plugging, and cursing, trying to get the pad to work, it was obvious that it was kaput!
Gerald said, "It has a 5-year warranty; let me check to see when we bought it." He had purchased it new from Amazon in June, 2015. We checked our file of warranties and there weren't any for heat pads. I said, "I probably never sent in a warranty card."
I decided to buy another heat pad. Gerald checked the internet and after learning those prices, I went to a store to check prices and although the store brand cost less, I had a $5.00 "extra bucks" savings certificate; I decided to buy another Sunbeam as I have favored Sunbeam products all my life and with the savings certificate, the cost would be the same as the Amazon price, and I could have it immediately.
On the box of the new heat pad, it stated that there was no need to return an item to the store, but to call the 800 number. As I had the documentation of the purchase of the old one, I decided to call and I was hopeful about the outcome.
The customer service representative asked for me to read the serial numbers from the heat pad and its plug and when I did, she said, simply, "We'll be sending a replacement within the next few days."
WOW! Now THAT is customer service.
My dilemma: should I return the new one to the store or just keep it in case "my best friend" conks out. My brother said, "Keep it, you're Hell on heat pads!"
