Cagle World

I used to enjoy mowing the lawn. Now it agitates the heck out of me.

My agitation is the result of the gas-container safety spouts that the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency has mandated since 2009 – spouts that barely allow gas to come out.

According to Jeffrey Tucker, editorial director at the American Institute of Economic Research, the safety spout originated in California in 2000 because the state government decided it needed to prevent gasoline from being spilled as lawnmower owners filled their tanks.

Before the state and federal mandates, one could still buy a steel or plastic gas container with a simple cap or spout in the front and a vent hole in the back, which allowed the gas to pour freely.

If you’re especially lucky, you inherited a heavy-gauge steel can that your grandfather used his entire life – and that you will use the rest of yours.

Grandpa, along with millions of other sensible people, used an old steel funnel to fill his lawnmower’s tank – never spilling a drop.

Nonetheless, the EPA, determined to create a problem for its solution, mandated in 2009 that new gasoline containers “be built with a simple and inexpensive permeation barrier and new spouts that close automatically.”

Simple? Inexpensive? Automatic?

These are three words that are not often used to describe government mandates.

“Permeation” turned out to be an awfully accurate word, though.

When one attempts to pour gasoline through the spring-loaded, EPA-mandated spout, the splashing fuel permeates everything – your pants, shoes, yard, etc. – except the inside of your gas tank.

I’ve bought a half-dozen gas containers in the past six years, hoping the new one will work better than its predecessor, but it never has.

Every time I fill my lawnmower tank, I have to remove the “simple, inexpensive, automatic” spout to get the gas to come out.

The irony is delicious. The EPA rule that was designed to prevent gas spillage causes gas spillage – a lot more gas spillage.

Such government meddling reminds me of the 2005 ethanol mandate that I wrote about a few years ago – which causes us weekend landscapers additional pain.

Ethanol-blended gasoline became a government requirement in 2005. It’s part of the Renewable Fuel Standard, which mandates adding increasing amounts of biofuels to transportation fuels each year.

The goal was noble – ethanol was supposed to be good for the environment – but The Atlantic refers to the program as “an unmistakable social and environmental failure.” Many are calling for its repeal.

Well, it turns out, reports Marketplace, that ethanol-blended gasoline makes small engines, such as my lawnmower’s engine, run dangerously hot, causing rubber components to melt.
According to ATV Illustrated, “ethanol in fuel has a tendency to absorb water from the air and separate from the gasoline, sinking to the bottom of the gas tank, where it quickly degrades and creates gums, varnish and other insoluble debris that can plug fuel flow passages … .”

I sometimes wonder if our government is really being run by highly sophisticated practical jokers.

How else would you explain EPA-mandated spouts that don’t let gas come out, and motors that are ruined by any of the gas that does?

Then again, in these challenging times, perhaps we should thank our regulators for giving us something to laugh at.

That bunch is a real gas.

–

Copyright 2020 Tom Purcell. Tom Purcell, author of “Misadventures of a 1970’s Childhood,” a humorous memoir available at amazon.com, is a Pittsburgh Tribune-Review humor columnist and is nationally syndicated exclusively by Cagle Cartoons Inc. For info on using this column in your publication or website, contact [email protected] or call (805) 969-2829. Send comments to Tom at [email protected].

COVID-19 has millions working from home. As a longtime teleworker, let me offer some advice.

Working from home has many upsides: no traffic jams, office politics or need for business attire.

But a month-plus into this pandemic, many are realizing teleworking’s downsides.

My morning commute goes from my bedroom to the kitchen (for coffee) to a small den in the back of my house.

Every morning, though, one rubbernecker (me) blocks my commute by looking longingly at his unmade bed – and frequently climbing back into it.

Maintaining focus on work is challenging at home. Snacks in the fridge, Netflix on the tube, funny videos on Facebook all compete for attention.

I’ve been an adult for a while now, but send me a video of talking dogs and I’d hang up on the company CEO to watch it.

Another challenge is hardly ever seeing other real humans during the day.

Sure, we see clients and colleagues on monitors, but, being social animals, we long for small talk. That regrettable need is straining my relationship with my postal carrier.

Me (head covered by a green wool sock with eye holes cut out): “I hear it’s going to rain tomorrow.”

Postal carrier (sitting in his vehicle by my mailbox): “You’re wearing a sock for a mask?”

Me: “How about a cup of coffee?”

Postal carrier: “But you look like Gumby.”

I used to hang up on telemarketers. Now I look forward to their calls.

Extended-car-warranty guy: “It’s only $2,000 for three years’ coverage.”

Me: “My truck’s still under the manufacturer’s warranty. How’s the weather where you are?”

Those of us able to work from home – able to maintain income while much of the country’s shuttered – are incredibly lucky.

Thanks to innovation, we have powerful smartphones and laptops, plus super-fast fiber optic lines at home.

We can collaborate with colleagues all over the globe, share large files and run complex financial reports – as if we’re in the office.

The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention estimate the 1918 Spanish Flu killed 50 million people around the world and 675,000 in America, when our population was a third of what it is now.

Working from home wasn’t an option for most back then.

Though the telephone had been invented four decades earlier, only about a third of U.S. homes had one, FastCompany reports. Still, the telephone offered some hope.

People were beginning to order groceries by phone. Newspapers and magazines remained the primary forms of mass communication – the first radio news broadcast wasn’t until 1920 – but phones offered opportunities to share news.

However, phone calls required operators to manually make connections – operators who couldn’t practice social distancing.

They “sat at banks of switchboards in tight quarters, elbow to elbow with any infected coworkers,” FastCompany says.

Many operators became sick and phone systems couldn’t keep up with demand – making the 1918 pandemic all the worse.

Despite many unpleasant setbacks, lots of positive storylines are arising from the current pandemic. One incredible silver lining is that millions of Americans can still work productively as it unfolds.

That’s the good news.

The not-so-good news: When all of this is over and the sock comes off my head, my postal carrier isn’t likely to accept that cup of coffee.

Maybe I’ll give the FedEx driver a try.

–

Copyright 2020 Tom Purcell. Tom Purcell, author of “Misadventures of a 1970’s Childhood,” a humorous memoir available at amazon.com, is a Pittsburgh Tribune-Review humor columnist and is nationally syndicated exclusively by Cagle Cartoons Inc. For info on using this column in your publication or website, contact [email protected] or call (805) 969-2829. Send comments to Tom at [email protected].

When I was a junior at Penn State, I had a front-row seat when legendary singer-songwriter John Prine performed on campus.

If you aren’t familiar with Prine’s work, you aren’t alone. He’s often called the greatest singer and songwriter you’ve never heard of.

New York Times columnist Dan Barry explains that Prine is an “influential singer and songwriter with a gift for articulating moments almost beyond words. His songs have won the respect of Johnny Cash, Kris Kristofferson, Pink Floyd, the Library of Congress, you name it. One admirer, Bob Dylan, once described his canon as ‘pure Proustian existentialism’ and ‘Midwestern mind trips to the nth degree.’”

Prine’s apparently simple lyrics and melodies are chock-full of complexity and humanity – funny, thought-provoking, hauntingly poetic.

“Dear Abby,” the first Prine song I heard, made me laugh out loud. It’s about fretting over trivial matters:

“Dear Abby, Dear Abby,
My fountain pen leaks
My wife hollers at me and my kids are all freaks
Every side I get up on is the wrong side of bed
If it weren’t so expensive I’d wish I were dead
Signed Unhappy”

Prine responds to the complainer with hilarious common sense:

“Unhappy, Unhappy,
You have no complaint
You are what you are and you ain’t what you ain’t
So listen up buster, and listen up good
Stop wishing for bad luck and knocking on wood.”

“Sam Stone” is about a heroin-addicted Vietnam veteran who returns with a Purple Heart – and eventually dies from an overdose:

“There’s a hole in daddy’s arm where all the money goes …”

Prine said most Vietnam War songs at the time were about protest. He wanted to address returning vets’ struggles. “Sam Stone” remains regrettably relevant amid America’s opioid epidemic.

“Hello in There” is about a lonely elderly couple wishing their children would visit. It’s more powerful than ever as millions of elderly people self-isolate at home:

“So if you’re walking down the street sometime
And spot some hollow ancient eyes,
Please don’t just pass ’em by and stare
As if you didn’t care, say, ‘Hello in there, hello.’”

Right now, I’m appreciating Prine, who’s 73, more than ever – because he’s hospitalized in critical condition, another victim of COVID-19.

The past few weeks have been bizarre, surreal, with the pandemic playing out like a chintzy B-movie. I find myself wondering, “So this is what a pandemic is like?”
I’m comfortable at home all day. With 300 TV channels, the internet, phone, texting and a stocked pantry, I have everything I need.

My large extended family worries about its elderly members – we’re keeping our distance to keep them safe. All of us are well, though.

Still, the seriousness of this pandemic hasn’t quite sunk in yet. But it better. Dr. Anthony Fauci warns that the virus could claim up to 200,000 Americans.

But John Prine? No!

That makes this virus suddenly personal for me. Now I’m getting angry.

I pray we find a way to stop its spread – before it hurts my loved ones and close friends.

I pray for Prine, who’s already beaten cancer twice, to beat this thing.

God knows we need the healing power of Prine’s music right now. This horrible virus has no right trying to rob us of his much-needed beauty and humor when we need them most.

–

Copyright 2020 Tom Purcell. Tom Purcell, author of “Misadventures of a 1970’s Childhood,” a humorous memoir available at amazon.com, is a Pittsburgh Tribune-Review humor columnist and is nationally syndicated exclusively by Cagle Cartoons Inc. For info on using this column in your publication or website, contact [email protected] or call (805) 969-2829. Send comments to Tom at [email protected].

The dirty rotten crooks.

While the rest of the world is doing its best to sacrifice to beat an unseen biological virus, cyber scammers are trying to attack us with a variety of digital viruses.

Before the start of 2020, I warned about the rapid increase in cyber attacks. The more we live our lives online, the more vulnerable we all are to email phishing attacks (fake emails), ransomware attacks (when bad guys gain illegal access to our computers and lock up our devices until we pay them a fee), scammers who pose as government representatives and many other schemes.

Last July, I warned about another worrisome cyber threat: attacks on the elderly. People 80 or older are especially at risk and reported a median loss of $2,700 per scam — and there are many regrettable stories about older people who have been taken for their life savings.

But in the midst of our current crisis — as millions are working from home — scammers are busier than ever.

First of all, the “virtual private networks” companies use for remote workers are not set up to handle the massive number of people now working from home. The systems run so slowly, employees are avoiding them — opening up security gaps for the scammers to exploit.

Second of all, anyone with ill intent can become a scammer now. Even 10 years ago, one had to be highly skilled to run cyber scams, but today, any fool can purchase and operate an off-the-shelf digital scam.

Digital Shadows, a cyber threat intelligence firm, identified a “for-sale” email scam that mimics an actual Johns Hopkins Center for Systems Science and Engineering distribution map of the coronavirus’s outbreak. Click the link in the email and you will download malicious software.

The asking price for the sophisticated scam? A lousy 200 bucks.

Fear is the scammer’s most potent weapon. Scammers are peddling fake coronavirus test kits and cures. Some pretend to be from government agencies offering information on the number of people afflicted with COVID-19 in your city. Others set up fake charitable organizations.

Their goal? To “send emails with malicious attachments or links to fraudulent websites to trick victims into revealing sensitive information or donating to fraudulent charities or causes,” says the Cybersecurity and Infrastructure Security Agency (CISA), which is part of the Department of Homeland Security.

It makes my blood boil to know that heartless cybercrooks are adding to the woes many are experiencing. We all need to understand that we must increase our ability to detect and thwart their scams to protect ourselves and our families — in particular, our elderly family members and neighbors.

There are steps we can take right now to get started.

CISA’s “Stop.Think.Connect” program offers basic cyber tips that we can begin using today; tip sheets on detecting threats and protecting our computers, smartphones and other devices; and tips for protecting older Americans.

And for helpful videos, look to StaySafeOnline.org’s YouTube offerings.

It’s regrettable that those of us who are staying at home to limit the spread of the coronavirus are at increasing risk as we conduct our daily business on our computers.

Let’s make it harder for those dirty rotten online crooks to exploit us.

–

©2020 Tom Purcell. Tom Purcell, author of “Misadventures of a 1970’s Childhood,” a humorous memoir available at amazon.com, is a Pittsburgh Tribune-Review humor columnist and is nationally syndicated exclusively by Cagle Cartoons Inc. For info on using this column in your publication or website, contact [email protected] or call (805) 969-2829. Send comments to Tom at [email protected].

My Aunt Cecelia was just beginning the eighth grade when it happened.

In late spring 1951, she came home from school with a high temperature, feeling very ill. The next morning, her legs gave out as she tried to get out of bed. By that evening, she was so weak she could barely move.

She’d contracted polio.

In the 1940s and 1950s, polio infected thousands of children annually. In 1952 alone, nearly 60,000 were infected, leaving thousands paralyzed and more than 3,000 dead.

No one knew how polio was spread. Fear of the unknown ran rampant – with good reason.

The day Cecelia was struck, the ambulance driver wouldn’t take her to the hospital for fear other patients might become infected. Cecelia’s home and family were quarantined for 14 days, polio’s lifespan.

Within two weeks, polio ravaged her body. Her limbs were in various degrees of paralysis. She could barely lift her head. She was relocated to the D.T. Watson Home for Crippled Children in Sewickley, Pa. Her long, painful rehabilitation began.

Had polio not been cured, say the authors of Freakonomics, the United States would now be caring for at least 250,000 long-term patients at an annual cost of $30 billion.

But we did cure it. The March of Dimes mobilized millions to raise money. Numerous researchers, including Dr. Jonas Salk, sought the cure. On April 12, 1955, Salk’s polio vaccine was declared safe and effective.

Clarity about events of a half-century ago is easy, but harder regarding current times. But as the coronavirus impacts the world, there’s no reason to lose our cool – and every reason to remain hopeful and positive.

Coronavirus arrived at a time when we have incredible research capacity. Many very talented people in America and worldwide are working around the clock to stop its spread.

Newsweek reports Australian researchers say they’ve identified a coronavirus cure, which they hope to roll out by the end of this month. They say two existing drugs – one for HIV, the other for malaria – wipe out coronavirus in test tubes and has helped some of the first COVID-19 patients to recover completely from the infection.

Rather than hoard toilet paper and worry about what we cannot do, aren’t we better off focusing on what we can do?

We can make sure elderly neighbors have food in their pantries. We can make good use of time at home by reading that book we’ve been wanting to read, or taking on that project we’ve been putting off, or starting that healthy eating plan.

We can learn from my Aunt Cecelia’s example. Despite a year in the hospital – despite two years of rehab and needing crutches for life – she didn’t let her bout with polio define her.

In time, she walked to school every day. In time, she was no different than anyone else. Like her sisters, she was beautiful, lively and full of wit. She had many friends. Her senior year, her classmates voted her Queen of Carrick for a spring track event. Eventually, she married and had four children. Now 81, she has eight grandchildren and six great-grandchildren who are incredibly vibrant and cheerful.

By every measure, my Aunt Cecelia continues to enjoy a fantastic life – because she focused not on what happened to her, but what she could make happen.

We can all learn from her experience as we navigate the days ahead.,

–

©2020 Tom Purcell. Tom Purcell, author of “Misadventures of a 1970’s Childhood,” a humorous memoir available at amazon.com, is a Pittsburgh Tribune-Review humor columnist and is nationally syndicated exclusively by Cagle Cartoons Inc. For info on using this column in your publication or website, contact [email protected] or call (805) 969-2829. Send comments to Tom at [email protected].

We could use some Irish wit and wisdom right now.

Here’s a good start: “You’ll never plow a field by turning it over in your mind.”

That’s a lesson well-taught by the many Irish immigrants, including my great-grandfather, who boldly came to America to make a better life for themselves and their families – and whose hard work greatly benefited our country.

“For every mile of road, there are two miles of ditches,” reads another Irish saying.

True success in life isn’t something that can be given to us, but something we must earn. As the Irish say, “You’ve got to do your own growing, no matter how tall your father was.”

However, all successful teachers, entrepreneurs, executives and others have met multiple setbacks along the way – but refused to let the setbacks stand in their way. Vibrant civilizations are built by people who live this way.

Here’s a clever line that relates to the blarney common to presidential campaigns: “Help a man when he is in trouble and he will remember you when he is in trouble again.”

It has the opposite ring from “Give a man a fish, you’ll feed him for a day, but teach him to fish and he will feed himself for life.”

It’s more in line with this quote by Irish playwright George Bernard Shaw: “A government [or politician] that robs Peter to pay Paul can always depend on the support of Paul.”

The wise understand that there are no easy fixes in life or in politics and that somebody must pay for every government program. We somebodies are called “taxpayers,” and one of the world’s cleverest wits, who remains unknown, determined that the taxes withheld from our paychecks are our “contributions.”

To be sure, the outcome of a “free” government service is best explained by American humorist P.J. O’Rourke: “If you think health care is expensive now, wait until you see what it costs when it’s free.”

The great Irish playwright Oscar Wilde said, “Seriousness is the only refuge of the shallow.”

Aren’t too many of us getting lost – particularly in social-media pontification – in the narrowness and silliness of our serious points of view?

Irish levity offers a solution, and, thankfully, it’s in abundance this time of year.

Here’s a joke I hope we all still agree on:

Q: Why are Irish jokes so short?

A: So members of Congress can understand them.

Here’s another: It was so cold in Washington, D.C., the politicians had their hands in their own pockets.

And another: Kate, a young Irish girl, asked her father, “Daddy, do all fairy tales begin with ‘Once upon a time?’”

“No, Kate,” said the father. “Lots of them begin with, ‘If elected president I promise that … .”

The Irish know there’s “nothing better than warm words on a cold night.” Such words can do us all a bit of good right now.

So I’ll leave you with this sweet Irish blessing:

May love and laughter light your days, and warm your heart and home.

May good and faithful friends be yours, wherever you may roam.

May peace and plenty bless your world with joy that long endures.

May all life’s passing seasons bring the best to you and yours!

–

©2020 Tom Purcell. Tom Purcell, author of “Misadventures of a 1970’s Childhood,” a humorous memoir available at amazon.com, is a Pittsburgh Tribune-Review humor columnist and is nationally syndicated exclusively by Cagle Cartoons Inc. For info on using this column in your publication or website, contact [email protected] or call (805) 969-2829. Send comments to Tom at [email protected].

At least Michael Bloomberg gave it a try.

Having done poorly in a prior debate, he joked during the Charleston, S.C., debate that he was surprised the other candidates showed up – because he “did such a good job beating them last week.”

His poorly timed attempt at humor was ridiculed on social media. So what has happened to humor among our presidential candidates?

Partisanship makes way too many of us way too serious way too much of the time. But the American sense of humor has a deep history and most presidents have used it well.

Barack Obama’s deadpan humor brought the house down during several White House Correspondents’ Dinners.

In 2009, he said: “There was a point in my life when I started palling around with a pretty ugly crowd, I’ve got to be honest. These guys were serious deadbeats; they were lowlifes; they were unrepentant no-good punks. That’s right: I’ve been a member of the United States Senate.”

George W. Bush showed a great sense of humor opening the 2005 event: “I look forward to these dinners where I’m supposed to be funny … intentionally.”

Bill Clinton always had a charming twinkle in his eye, as though we were all in on the joke. At the 2000 dinner, amid investigations targeting him and his wife, he said: “Over the last few months I’ve lost 10 pounds. Where did they go? Why haven’t I produced them to the independent counsel? How did some of them manage to wind up on Tim Russert [news show]?”

George H.W. Bush wasn’t noted for his wit, but tried his best. He told the 1989 Gridiron Club dinner: “People say I’m indecisive, but I don’t know about that.”

In Bush’s defense, he did follow one of our wittiest presidents since Abe Lincoln. Ronald Reagan loved to poke fun at socialism and communism.

He told a story about a Russian wanting to buy a car. The man goes to the official agency, puts down his money and is told his car will be delivered in exactly 10 years.

“Morning or afternoon?” the purchaser asks.

“Ten years from now, what difference does it make?” replies the clerk.

“Well,” says the car-buyer, “the plumber’s coming in the morning.”

Which brings us back to current affairs. A Politico writer argues that President Trump has a self-deprecating sense of humor, quoting him as saying: “I do my best work off script. … I also do my worst work off script.”

But where do 2020’s Democratic presidential candidates stand in terms of humor?

Bloomberg lacks timing.

Joe Biden is said to be charming and witty in person, but that isn’t coming across on the campaign trail.

Elizabeth Warren? Self-deprecating humor isn’t her strong suit.

Bernie Sanders? Does Bernie ever smile?

Amy Klobuchar seems comfortable in her own skin. In a recent town hall, she showed an easy sense of humor, which is refreshing – but she just ended her campaign.

Anyone seeking the presidency should remember that Americans want a sense of humor in their presidents. Self-deprecating humor is a sign of confidence and strength – and, in Jimmy Carter’s case, grace.

When he left the White House after only one term, he said this:

“My esteem, in this country, has gone up substantially. It is very nice now when people wave at me, they use all their fingers.”

–

Copyright 2020 Tom Purcell. Tom Purcell, author of “Misadventures of a 1970’s Childhood,” a humorous memoir available at amazon.com, is a Pittsburgh Tribune-Review humor columnist and is nationally syndicated exclusively by Cagle Cartoons Inc. For info on using this column in your publication or website, contact [email protected] or call (805) 969-2829. Send comments to Tom at [email protected].

Get this: New parents are giving newborns outlandish names – so they’ll stand out on social media.

That’s according to a new survey of British parents by ChannelMum, which found 72% of respondents “believe a unique name will help their child stand out from the crowd,” StudyFinds reports.

So, what are some of these “unique” names”?

Maevery, Faelina, Idalia, Evabeth and Tessadora are the top five new names for British girls.

Jaspin, Charleston, Brigham, Ranger and Wrenlow are the top five new names for British boys.

Want to see how popular your own name is here in America? Search for it at this Social Security Administration site: https://www.ssa.gov/cgi-bin/babyname.cgi

I’m no child-rearing expert, but it seems to me that if you want to give your kids a leg up in life, it’s better to give them simple, traditional names, not names that stand out.

I’m at the tail end of the baby boom. My high school friends were named Tom, John, Jeff, Bill, Bob, Rich and Tim.

As for girls, my sisters have common names: Kathy, Krissy, Lisa, Mary and Jennifer. Other common names include Linda, Elizabeth, Carol, Helen and Sandra.

If you really want your kid to be special, a name won’t do it. She’ll have to earn it, to work hard and sacrifice. She’ll have to try and fail before eventually finding her place – what she’s good at – and then work even harder to polish her talents.

That will be easier if she’s humble. And being humble will be easier if she doesn’t have some goofy name that makes her think she’s God’s precious, special gift to the universe.

Sure, times change and baby names follow trends. But don’t forget this timeless truth: We all have to make a name for ourselves.

Our actions, not our names, define who we are. Are we honest or a bit sketchy? Compassionate or hard-hearted? Thoughtful or close-minded? Courageous or someone who looks the other way when we see someone else doing wrong?

We freely choose our paths, and our real “names” – our real identities – will reveal themselves, regardless of the names we’re given at birth.

I’m named after my father and his father. I’m the fourth Thomas James Purcell to have the honor of that name.

My name carries a spiritual meaning. Many Christian saints and biblical heroes were named Thomas (including the doubting one). By giving me this name, my parents hoped to bestow good values on me.

With my common name, I never took myself too seriously – I knew I wasn’t the center of anybody’s universe. Flawed though I am, I hope my dad thinks I’ve lived up to our shared name.

I do understand new parents wanting to give their kids a head start in life. But they ought to be careful. An outlandish, “unique” name may do more harm than good.

“Tessadora” sounds like a 1970s Chrysler luxury sedan that never caught on with the public. Will “Tessadora” be as dated 30 years from now as bell bottoms are today?

“Wrenlow” sounds like a bird that’s afraid to fly high. Opportunities abound for bullies to make fun of a name like that.

That’s one thing that Tom, Bob and Tim – and Linda, Elizabeth and Carol – will never have to worry about.

–

Copyright 2020 Tom Purcell. Tom Purcell, author of “Misadventures of a 1970’s Childhood,” a humorous memoir available at amazon.com, is a Pittsburgh Tribune-Review humor columnist and is nationally syndicated exclusively by Cagle Cartoons Inc. For info on using this column in your publication or website, contact [email protected] or call (805) 969-2829. Send comments to Tom at [email protected].

Every time I bite into a Clark Bar, I become 10 years old again.

Irish immigrant D.L. Clark created the legendary chocolate-coated peanut-butter-crunch confection in Pittsburgh in 1917. Individually wrapped Clark Bars were shipped to U.S. troops during World War I and became popular nationwide following the war.

According to “Sweets: A History of Candy,” Clark applied a new technique that allowed a thin milk-chocolate shell to coat a non-chocolate filling, producing America’s first successful “combination” candy bar. That makes the Clark Bar’s origin a reflection of American innovation.

Clark’s family-owned business produced the candy until 1955, when his company was acquired by corporate owners in Pittsburgh. But every October for decades after that, thousands of families bought the highly affordable bars to hand out on Halloween night. That makes the Clark Bar a tremendous source of American nostalgia.

By the time we were both 10 in 1972, my best friend Tommy Guillen and I had Halloween night down to a science.

We knew which houses to hit and which to avoid. A couple of families always handed out popcorn balls or Rice Krispies marshmallow bars – families that were just begging to have their car windows soaped!

Georgetown, the richest neighborhood near our homes – literally on the other side of the railroad tracks – was our first stop.

Georgetown parents filled our pillowcase sacks with brand-name candy heaven: Hershey’s, Nestle Crunch, Milk Duds, Good & Plenty, Almond Joy, $100,000 Bar, Twizzlers, Snickers, Milky Way, Kit Kat, M&Ms, Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups and the granddaddy of them all, Mallo Cup – chocolate-covered marshmallow perfection!

After miles of walking, we’d head back across the railroad tracks to hit the small ranch houses in the adjoining borough – affordable homes built during the post-World War II boom for returning veterans benefiting from the GI Bill.

The families in those neighborhoods were wonderful – but, being budget-conscious, they were strictly Clark Bar families, as the locally produced confection was always discounted during the Halloween season. Our pillowcases would be filled with dozens of Clark Bars when we’d finally conclude our trick-or-treating.

The Clark Bar’s corporate ownership would go through a series of sales and bankruptcies over the years. Production finally ceased in 2018, breaking the hearts of millions of 1970s kids like me.

But now, the Clark Bar is back!

Boyer Candy in Altoona, Pa. – the very same company that makes the Mallo Cup – has begun producing the Clark Bar again. That makes the Clark Bar part of a classic American comeback story.

Though I didn’t yet appreciate or understand the Clark Bar’s history when I was 10, I certainly enjoyed devouring hundreds of them. The Clark Bar remains a heavenly piece of Americana – one thing that still unites millions, even in these highly partisan and divided times.

Regrettably, the Clark Bar’s comeback is currently limited to the Pittsburgh market. But if you can, buy a pack or two – and share them with friend and foe alike.

Sharing the Clark Bar’s tastiness just might melt hearts just enough to foster calm, reasoned discussion.

Every time I taste one, I become as hopeful and optimistic as I was when I was 10.

I hope everyone can enjoy and share the positive energy that comes from enjoying a few bites of the Clark Bar’s chocolate and peanut butter perfection – together.

–

Copyright 2020 Tom Purcell. Tom Purcell, author of “Misadventures of a 1970’s Childhood,” a humorous memoir available at amazon.com, is a Pittsburgh Tribune-Review humor columnist and is nationally syndicated exclusively by Cagle Cartoons Inc. For info on using this column in your publication or website, contact [email protected] or call (805) 969-2829. Send comments to Tom at [email protected].

The day my Mother and Father met, he was arguing with some high school friends about whether a slice of lemon would corrode the coating on a porcelain sink.

“I never came across any man quite like your Father,” my Mother says, still happily befuddled by the stubborn old fellow.

Their meeting in 1950 began a storybook courtship. A typical date included my Father walking one mile to my Mother’s home. The two walked another mile to the movie theater. They had just enough money left over to buy an Isaly’s banana split. Then my Dad walked her home.
Their courtship culminated in their marriage in 1956. They’ll celebrate their 64th anniversary in September.

I share their story because I wonder how today’s young people may one day answer when their children ask, “How did you meet Daddy?”

Will Mommy reply, “He texted me, we hooked up, we did likewise with several other people for a while and then, tired of the jealousy, we decided, ‘Why don’t we have the magistrate draw up some paperwork and make this thing legal?’”

It’s fascinating how much courting and romance have changed in just a few generations. Older generations were brimming with hope and optimism going into marriage. Now, younger generations brim with cynicism and low expectations.

My parents were married in the Catholic Church. They vowed to “become one flesh” under God … to have and to hold, from their wedding day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do them part.

They began their life together with hope and promise. Compare that to younger people who enter marriage thinking, “Well, if it doesn’t work out, I can always try something else.”

Consider the love songs sung by crooners through the early 1970s.

Whereas many of today’s hit songs celebrate fear, anger and cynicism (“He cheated on me!”), Dean Martin’s songs celebrated sweetness and innocence. Idealistic and uplifting, his songs were ROMANTIC.

Dino’s songs celebrated the subtle dance of the spirit between a man and a woman – the magic that occurs when two complementary natures collide.

His songs celebrated mystery – the deep interest and curiosity that men and women hold for each other.

The simple, intense lyrics of his song “Sway” summed this up well:

Other dancers may be on the floor
Dear, but my eyes will see only you
Only you have the magic technique
When we sway, I go weak

Were my parents, as two young people, unrealistic entering their lifelong union? Perhaps. They’ve gone through many ups and downs since, as all married couples do, yet they’re still together — and my Father still adores my Mother.

Were the love songs of the past also unrealistic and overly simplified, like a trite romance novel? Yes.

Was this a bad thing? Of course not! We’ve always needed romance in our lives.

Romance is about hopefulness – the hope that one day, a special person will enter your life, sweep you off your feet, become your best friend and give you far more care, affection and support than he or she would ever want in return.

This Valentine’s Day, younger folks might want to ask their elders to help them understand – and renew – the wonderful art of romance.

–

Copyright 2020 Tom Purcell. Tom Purcell, author of “Misadventures of a 1970’s Childhood,” a humorous memoir available at amazon.com, is a Pittsburgh Tribune-Review humor columnist and is nationally syndicated exclusively by Cagle Cartoons Inc. For info on using this column in your publication or website, contact [email protected] or call (805) 969-2829. Send comments to Tom at [email protected].