Remember widgets...good times I tell ya good times

Lyrics

When we were young mom was never at a loss for a song to sing. Often these songs were packed with silly and fun lyrics. I can't remember most of the lyrics to these songs and I would like have them so I can teach Gabriel. Can you all help me out on the lyrics to songs like Mr. and Mrs. Johnny Quebec and the donuts store one and others like it.

Washing dishes

Our family never owned a dishwasher. Unless you count my brothers and I.

We hated doing dishes. It's not like we had a lot of chores to do, but washing the dishes was one of them, and we hated it. Since there were four of us and we wanted to be fair, the rule was that everyone would wash 5 dishes and then call in the next brother for his turn. Four pieces of silverware were equal to one regular dish. If there were big pots and pans, those often counted as two dishes.

Nobody wanted to get stuck with the big pots and pans. They were a huge pain. We'd all rather wash twenty bowls, cups and plates than get stuck washing a single dirty pot. And so, if you were first or second in "line" to do dishes, you could control your own destiny. You would wash all of the bowls and plates and cups, and make sure that there were fewer than 15 dishes left in the sink when you were finished, so that there would be no way that your turn could come around again before all the dishes were done.

Jaron was the pickiest of us all. If his turn came around and there were only 1 or 2 plates and cups, and the rest of the dishes were big pots, he'd be furious. And so, he'd scour the house looking for more dishes he could wash so that his turn would be over. He would often come into the living room and find someone who still had a glass of juice, or some leftover dish from dinner, and ask if that person was finished with their dish. If they weren't, he would wait 'em out. I wouldn't be surprised if Jaron stashed extra bowls in his bedroom for occasions such as these. I'm not sure that kid ever washed a big pot. Stubborn and lazy? or creative genius? You tell me.

A Poem

For my poetry class, we are supposed to write a poem about a place we knew when we were growing up.  After writing the poem, I felt that it would fit nicely into this blog as well.  So here it is!
The World Behind 916 West Third Street

From the back door to the train tracks
And fence to fence the other way
That patch of land was whatever we wanted it to be
Whatever would let us play whatever we wanted
Whenever we wanted to play

Sometimes it was a driving range
Hitting the dirty golf balls we could steal from Dad's bag
With the club we stole from Dad's bag
Hoping the farmer who owned the field
Didn't mind the balls too much.

Sometimes it was the perfect space we needed
To let out all the string on our 99 cent kite
Then to tie on the extra string and let it out too
Until the kite was like an inverse star
Black against the white sky

Sometimes it was Candlestick Park
The perfect backdrop for our baseball games
Where we could count hitting it to the field as a homerun
Or where our only bases were the tree and the shed
So we would run back and forth until the ball was retrieved

When there was corn in the field it had different uses
We could pee wherever we wanted without anyone seeing
My brothers could scare me with tales of murderers in the corn
We could test the knowledge that it's easy to get lost out there
Or we could jump on the trampoline to try and see the train

When there were beans in the field you couldn't do that
Every other year would disappoint with the beans
The beans that only changed the field enough
So that we could no longer find the white balls we hit
And baseballs were basically done for if they went in

From the back door to the train tracks
And fence to fence the other way
We ruled that land
It was ours
And it was whatever we told it to be

Poll #2: Survivor

Thanks to everyone who voted in the second poll, "If your plane crash landed on a deserted island, which Rohde brother would best help you to survive?"

Here are the results:

Coming in dead last was yours truly with only 2 votes, or 8% of the vote (apparently, I'm not much of a survivor man).
Tied for second place were Joel and Jase, each receiving just 3 votes (13% apiece).
Winning this poll quite handily was the handiest Rohde brother, Jaron, with a whopping 15 votes (65%).

There's a new poll up. Read it. Contemplate it. Vote in it.

Thanks.

The Fabled "Brother Smother"

It is an elusive beast.  Only a few humans in the history of mankind have ever seen it in its entirety.  While many have seen lesser versions, involving two brothers, I am only aware of two people who have felt this phenomenon from the complete collection of all four.  I am, of course, talking about the "Brother Smother".  While most think the Four Rohde Smother only exists in fiction, I assure you, it has happened.  Correct me brothers if I'm wrong, but I believe Pastor Dan Schoepf of Muscatine, IA and Mother Lisa Rohde of Santa Maria, CA are the only two humans to ever have experienced the Four Rohde Smother (Brian Rohde was also involved in the Lisa Rohde incident). Rather than explain this complicated occurrence, I will merely post a photo.  This photo is not for the faint of heart.  Parents, shield your children's eyes.  They may not be ready for the sheer power this photo represents.

It wasn't me! It was JOEL!

(I've got plenty of post ideas, and even though I don't want to "hog the blog," I'll do it if nobody else wants to write anything!)

My most embarrassing moment came in band class my junior year. I'd been playing the tuba for about one semester. I'd come a long way in that semester, but I wasn't great. And I was the only tuba player in the band, so I needed some backup.

That's where Joel came in. Joel is sort of a musically-inclined guy. He can play the piano, guitar, drums, trombone, didgeridoo, Peter Pan pipe, spoons, and even hacky sack. And during the second semester of my junior year in high school, he learned the tuba. Our band director assigned him to play the tuba with me for a couple of songs because a) even though he'd never played the tuba before, our director knew he could pick it up quickly for just a couple songs, and b) I needed the help or no one would be able to hear the tuba part in the songs.

I tell you that to tell you this: we were sitting next to each other in band class. Our band director was sitting at the front of the room speaking to the class. There was no music being played. Until Joel decided to unleash that natural tuba within.

He farted. Loudly.

Before anyone could react Joel snapped a look in my direction and gasped as if to say, "Jake! I can't believe you just farted!" Everyone took his reaction to mean that I was the culprit (which, of course, I was not). Unfortunately, there was not a whole lot I could do to change the perception. It was too late to deny it. Joel's reaction said it all: I was guilty.

Everyone in the class giggled and pointed at me. I sat there and turned red. And vowed never to speak to my brother again. What a jerk.

*In case you're sitting there in suspense and wondering, I have, in fact, spoken to Joel since this incident... but only once or twice. Reluctantly.

Bad Words

I was probably 10 years old. Joel and I shared a room at the time (actually, I think at the time we shared a home-made bed that was basically some planks of wood on stilts in the laundry room). I don't know where he had learned this, but one night while we were laying in bed and talking rather than falling asleep, he told me that bad words are only bad if you really mean them. Just like saying "God" isn't bad unless you're taking his name in vain, swear words don't mean anything unless you're yelling them at someone.

So, we laid there saying swear words for the next 15 minutes. Because we could. They weren't "bad" because we didn't mean them badly.

I wish I could reproduce the words here, for effect, but this isn't an "adults only" blog and I don't want to upset any parents (including my own). But yeah, I'm talking about those words. If you can think of a bad word, we were saying it that night. Over and over.

I felt like a little rebel. For maybe the first time in my life. Come to think of it, maybe the last time too?

The Contest

Okay, so the contest that was mentioned HERE has been postponed due to lack of entries. I have had one participant and I wasn't going to participate since it is my contest, but I will have to now. Please read THIS and participate. The new dates will be pictures by midnight the 12th of April. Entries posted on April 14th, and results posted on the 19th. I really mulled over whether to extend the contest or just post the one persons pic, but I am REALLY hoping someone beats that person because their entry is...well...gross. Anyway, hope to receive lots of emails with pics of invisible screens soon.

Poll results: Prettiest Eyes

Thanks to everyone who voted! Our poll, Which Rohde brother has the prettiest eyes? closed last night and here are the results:

Jase ran away with this one with 17 votes (39%)
Joel came in second with 11 votes (25%)
Jake placed third with 9 votes (20%)
Jaron came in fourth with 6 votes (13%)

Do you agree with these results? Leave us comments and defend your vote!

AND, there's a NEW poll up on our blog. If your plane crash landed on a deserted island, which Rohde brother would best help you to survive? You have two weeks to vote for this one!

The Games We Played

My brothers and I were pretty creative growing up.  We came up with a lot of games that we could play with just the four of us and were experts at entertaining ourselves.  Sometimes, our incredible mother would join in the fun as well.  I would like to highlight two of the games we played growing up.


RODEO (Rohdeo)
In this game, the goal was basically to have one person who was the "Bull" and the rest of us would be the rodeo clowns.  This was a game played indoors, and we only played it when we were younger.  Basically, the "Bull" had to stay on his hands and knees.  The rest of us would run around the room trying to stay away from the bull. If the bull tackled you, you became the bull.  It was basically like tag, except that we got to tackle each other.  The way the game generally ended up going was that Joel, Jake and Jaron would play and kind of leave me running around until they got tired, then they would tackle me so they could have a break.  The reason for this is that for a long time I was the smallest, and therefore unable to tackle them.  By the time I was bigger than them, I was too slow to catch them.  That's pretty much how it went with any game.


THE GAME WE NEVER NAMED BUT INVOLVED RIDING OUR BIKES ALL OVER TOWN
I'm not sure if Joel and Jake ever took part in this game. I think they had friends by the time we made this game up.  Anywho, in this game, mom would drive around town and pick out 5 or 6 houses and write down things about them such as what color the shutters were, what lawn ornaments there were, how many windows were in the front, etc.  She would then come back and give Jaron and I the list and we would have to ride our bikes around town to try and find them.  It was brilliant on her part, because about twenty minutes of her time kept us busy for hours so she could get things done with us out of the house.  Brilliant.

Those are two of the many games we played.  What games did you play growing up? Please Share.