Monthly Archives: May 2020

How Do I Restore a Conklin Crescent

We are by no means done with the Decameron 2020 Project. However, I felt like getting back to pens for a posting. If you’ve been mostly coming for the storytelling, who knows, maybe you’ll get a kick out of a deeper dive into old fountain pens.

Here is a Conklin Crescent 2NL fountain pen in need of restoration.

Let’s look at one of the oldest “self-filling” fountain pen filling systems. In the earliest days of fillable fountain pens, any pen with a bladder or ink sac was considered self-filling. Before that you had dips and eyedroppers. Conklin invented the crescent filler in 1898. For as cumbersome as it looks, it was an insanely simple design. The pen is hollow like an eyedropper, but there is a rubber ink sac affixed to the nipple of the section. A crescent is fitted to a flat steel bar, and when the safety ring is rotated into the proper position, the crescent can be depressed, flattening the rubber ink sac within. The rubber ink sac wants to re-inflate, which fills the sac with ink and pushes the crescent back out of the barrel. Way less messy than an eyedropper, it was an instant hit. Even the famed American author Mark Twain was hired to be an advertising spokesman for the pen.

Don’t soak a Conklin hard rubber pen for very long, as it will discolor the old hard rubber. Be sure to get the water over the end of the section and on to the barrel threads.

If you already read our “How Do I Re-Sac a Vintage Pen” article, this isn’t very different. However, most of these pens are made from black hard rubber more than 100 years ago, and they are very brittle. You want to make sure you are pretty comfortable with restoring plastic/celluloid pens first. These early Conklins are getting much older and harder to find, and they break much more easily.

As with before, you will need some ink sacs, a pair of spark-plug/section pliers, a long dental pick, sac shellac or rubber cement, scissors that can cut through rubber ink sacs, a jar or cup, clean water, polish, a cloth rag, paper towels, a hairdryer, a razor blade and an ultra-sonic cleaner.

  1. Always start by soaking the nib in room temperature water over the threads of the barrel. Now the trick with old hard rubber is that water discolors it quickly. A shiny black will quickly turn to a chocolate brown haze. Don’t soak it for long, just enough to start to leech out old ink and maybe lubricate the friction fit of the section into the barrel. I certainly wouldn’t soak it for more than an hour. I’d probably soak it for much shorter a time.
  2. Next, remove the nib and section from the water and dry them off.
  3. Warm them up just a little with the hair dryer or heat gun. You only want them to be warm to the touch. Heat will also discolor the hard rubber. Plus, it can melt it.
  4. Scrape the dead ink sac out of the barrel. Be sure to be especially careful shaving the ink sac remains off the section nipple.

    Using your section pliers, gently grip and twist the section counter clockwise in an unscrewing motion. Sometimes it takes nerves of steel, patience and experience to discern the difference between the old ink sac inside the pen cracking and the barrel of the pen cracking. If the barrel cracks, you’ve likely killed the pen and made it nothing more than a parts donor.

  5. Once you get the section to start coming out, gentle, small wiggles can work it out without further stressing it from twisting. Very small wiggles. You can easily break the barrel, especially when the section looks as if it is almost out of the barrel. The more the section wiggles, the more it can act as a lever to crack the barrel. Some people choose the give the nib and section a sonic cleaning and others don’t. The sonic action can destroy the part if there is a crack already starting in it. More than 30 seconds to a minute will start discoloring the rubber. However, I’ve also found that pens this old often are filled with sediment-based inks that need something special like a sonic cleaning to remove the caked-in old ink.
  6. After the section is out, the rest is fairly easy. Scrape out all of the old ink sac from inside the barrel and very gently shave off the remaining sac on the nipple. Your razor can easily cut the nipple or cave in a wall of the nipple. Go super slow and easy with only small motions.
  7. Polishing old hard rubber is difficult. You can wear away a lot of rubber very quickly, ruining imprints and chasing.

    With everything cleaned out and disassembled, that is when I like to polish the pen and parts. You cannot go as rough on century-old hard rubber as you can plastics. I like to use MAAS metal polish on a soft terry cloth rag. Mostly I just give a light going over of the pen and cap with the polish and rag because both strip away the top layers of the rubber and can remove chasing and other imprints. It also removes some of the chocolate hazing. Using a Q-tip, I also polish the nib and crescent.

  8. Reinstall the crescent filler and lock it in place with the safety ring.
  9. Dust the ink sac in talcum power to help preserve it.

    Size and trim an ink sac that isn’t too snug inside the barrel. If you don’t have the crescent filler with the bar reinstalled first, you won’t get the proper fit.

  10. Use orange shellac to attach the sac to the section nipple.
  11. Dust the sac in pure talcum powder
  12. Very gently and slowly reinstall the sac and section into the barrel. This is another high-risk move that can crack the barrel so take it easy. You might even want to warm-up the barrel a bit.

Wait 24 hours for the shellac to dry before filling the pen. Then you are ready to write.

The finished pen should look much cleaner and be ready to write.

Decameron 2020: Pestilence

by Art Cerf

If statuary can wear a mask, so can you. This pandemic is still in its early stages, folks.

Hello. Let me introduce myself. I’m Pestilence, one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Death, of course, is our leader. War is a bit of a blowhard but is always busy. Both Famine and I are background players but believe me, we do more than you can imagine.

I go back thousands of years. I like to say I put the Hit on the Hittites. Through the years I come and go. Back in the 14th Century was one of my triumphs…the Black Plague. I won a Golden Tombstone for that one (sort of like your Oscars). Got another for the great flu of 1918-19.

Through the centuries, I spread cholera, smallpox, typhus and so many more. I’m particularly proud of AIDS. But now, I’ve come up with Covid-19. I hate the name…it should be something catchier like the Black Death or The Spanish Influenza. Oh well, it’s an international triumph.

I want to give thanks to the Chinese communist government for covering up the disease long enough for it to spread…and even disciplining the doctor who tried to point it out. Also kudos to the American President who denied at least two months of warnings and then dismissed it as nothing to worry about because we had it well in hand.

People keep asking when will we get back to normal.  My friends, this IS the new normal.

Decameron 2020: Leo Ledbetter

Leo Ledbetter
by Art Cerf

This is a chipmunk, not a squirrel, but it is still cute.

Leo Ledbetter started his day like any other since his wife, Miriam’s, passing last summer. He’d shower, have a little breakfast and then dress in his suit and tie. From there, he’d take a train and then two buses to get to the cemetery where his beloved was buried…and hour and a half trip.

He’d spend an hour or more seated on a bench beside her grave, talking and recalling their golden memories. Over time, he noticed a little squirrel hanging around the area. So the next day, he brought some peanuts to feed the squirrel.

This went on for months, rain or shine, blistering heat or icy winter days. It got so the squirrel would eat right out of his hand.

Then came the pandemic. Leo paid it no attention. He figured if he died, he’d die…and maybe then be reunited with Miriam.

And as expected, he caught the virus and he died.

The little squirrel missed his visits until one day another squirrel appeared in the cemetery and from the first moment, they got on terrifically and stay together for the rest of their days.

Decameron 2020: Elementary Human Nature

Nope, again this has nothing to do with the story, but it is a beautiful swampy nature preserve in Wisconsin.

Mrs. Peebles loved her first-grade class. Each of her 20 students was a clever little sponge soaking in knowledge, exploring and learning in their own ways. High-energy and mostly adorable, she wished she could protect each one from all of the dangers in the world.

To help keep them safe, near the end of the school year, she’d have a special class to warn them about the dangers lurking within their own homes. She explained how bleach and ammonia could be wonderful cleaners for their homes, but they could also be deadly poisons if drunk. Just getting the chemicals on their skin could hurt them, if they didn’t wash them off quickly. She let the kids come up and give a quick little sniff of each chemical to make sure they knew what they smelled like and should avoid.

Next she warned them of other dangers, such as hot stoves and space heaters.

She would wrap up the discussion with a dire warning never to stick anything other than an electric plug into a light socket. Electricity was vital to powering their lights, TV and computers, but it also was deadly when touched directly. She explained how a shock could stop their hearts or burn them.

After answering the children’s questions and reassuring them that all of these dangerous things could be very safe if only used properly, she began to put away her sample chemicals in a locking cabinet behind her desk.

At the very second she knelt down, there was a loud pop in the classroom and the lights flickered.

She stood up and screamed when she saw little Johnny Whozit lying unconscious next to an electric outlet on the other side of the room, a small pair of scissors clenched in his hand.


Dear Friends,

It is easy for us, as adults, to see that Johnny had a severe lapse in judgement when he was just told that the very thing he was about to do could kill him. The vast majority of us don’t need to stick things in an outlet to know it is an insanely terrible idea. The overwhelming majority of us have never stuck anything other than proper plugs in an outlet.

While quarantine totally blows goats, for the life of me I cannot understand why grown adults think it is suddenly a good idea to drink bleach, break quarantine and stop wearing masks in public, in close proximity to other people.

With increasing repetition, I’m hearing all manner of virus conspiracy theories, as if Covid-19 has ideological intentions.

It doesn’t. The virus isn’t liberal, conservative or even political. It is a mindless microscopic thing that isn’t even a complete single-cell structure that scientists define as only being on the “edge of life.” It isn’t living in the traditional sense that we understand living to be…but it isn’t quite not-alive, either. No wonder it is difficult to treat. It only has two goals: quasi-live & replicate. It sickens and kills everybody equally, regardless of politics, race, religion or wealth.

I am blessed to count many EMTs, nurses, doctors and police officers among my friends and customers. Many of them have told me how insanely contagious this disease is. Most of them have seen people die of the disease…many people, in some cases.

Many of the best scientific minds in the country are working on cures and vaccines to save the rest of us from this plague. At the moment, we have no known, proven cure. We’re mostly keeping our fingers crossed that it doesn’t kill us. True, for as many people who get it, only a small percentage of them die. Who wants to take that risk when a cure or vaccine might be just around the corner?

Yes, the economy is in rough shape. Absolutely, people need money to continue on. All of us would love to gather with friends and family once again. We all want life to return to normal as soon as possible…and I hope with as little suffering and death as possible. OMG! Warm weather and a beautiful springtime make it even harder to stay indoors. I get it.

But these are extraordinary times, and they call for extreme measures to protect our family, friends and neighbors as much as humanly possible.

One of the most dangerous parts about Covid-19 is that you can get it and never know it. You can also get it and spread it for up to 14 days before coming down with symptoms. Why put yourself at risk? Why put your family and friends at risk? Why pass it on to some friendly elderly person you accidentally bump into at the grocery store? Who knows how many people someone you might infect can then turn around and infect?

Until we have a cure or vaccine, the only thing we can do for ourselves and everyone else is stay home…and wear a mask if you have to go out for supplies. It totally sucks, but it is the only way to stay safe…minimize the spread of the disease…and buy the many doctors and scientists working around the clock to find a better way to kill, cure and prevent this disease a little more time.

Regardless of politics, for the health and lives of our families and friends, we need to unite as a nation and a planet. At no other time in human history has it been easier to be a hero that helps save humanity. All you have to do is continue to shelter in place.

With great love, health and respect,

Decameron 2020: The Story of Job—Part 2

The Story of Job: Part 2
by Art Cerf

Here’s a photo of a birch tree that is quite lovely and has nothing to do with this story. I just felt like sharing.

God and Satan were having their weekly meeting and would banter about who was the best dresser, who had the best haircut and the like.

Satan suggested a contest on who was more popular. God agreed but then asked who would be a fair judge. Satan thought for a moment and then said, “Why not Job? Remember he stuck with you when you killed off his family and covered him with boils. He might still be loyal…or he might be rather pissed.”

God thought it over and agreed to resurrect Job…without the boils…and would send an arch angel with him just to help him adjust to the 21st century but in no way tip the scales.

So Job arrived in America, and he could hardly believe his eyes. Planes overhead…rolling carts in the streets…towering buildings. He loved the fact the clothing was more comfortable and you could have more than just one set. And he loved that almost everyone lived inside…and could turn up the heat or cool the air. And food? It was everywhere.

But on the other hand, the air always smelled. The angel told him that was car exhaust and air pollution from factories, whatever they were. They went to the beach where the shore was littered with all sorts of refuse.

And when he was shown television, he couldn’t believe how immodest women were and how violent the men were. And then there was this orange man on the box every afternoon, telling everyone how the pandemic was under control and what a good job he was doing when Job knew that was bullshit.  He saw the death figures rising every day…he saw people afraid to leave their homes…and he even saw ambulances carry two bodies away from the building where he was staying.

He asked the angel if the orange man was king. The angel said, “No, he was elected.”

Job asked, “By whom? Religious leaders and town mayors?”

The angel said, “No, in America, everyone can vote and pick their leader.”

Job said, “And the people voted to pick him?”

“Not exactly,” said the angel. “The other candidate got three-million more votes but through a technicality called the Electoral College, the orange man won.”

“And will he be the leader until he dies?”

“No,” said the angel. “There will be a new election in November.”

Job said, “And everyone can vote?”

The angel said, “Well, in theory, but the party supporting the orange man is trying hard to keep those who don’t like him from voting.”

Job said, “I’ve seen enough.” And in a whisk, he was back before God and Satan.

“Well,” they said, “Who did the better job?”

Job looked at both of them and said, “Satan, you placed the plague upon the earth which was a really shitty thing to do. And you, God, allowed all those people to suffer. Shame on you.”

God and the devil looked at each other, nodded, and in a wink, Job exploded into a billion pieces.

God turned to Satan and said, “So who do you see in next year’s World Series?”

EDITOR’S NOTE: Happy birthday, Dad! Thank you for this most dad-liest of stories.

Decameron 2020: Caleb Connor

Caleb Connor
by Art Cerf

Just another bird photo that has nothing to do with the story. Looks nice but is meaningless, just to catch the eye. Nah-nah.

Caleb Connor had the visage of a young man. But he was there when the pyramids were built.

He marched with Roman legions and sailed with Vikings. He survived the Black Death in the 14th century and was good friends with Henry VIII…his daughter, not so much.

He stood with the rebels on Bunker Hill and played cards with Davy Crockett at the Alamo.

He watched Pickett’s Charge from Seminary Ridge in Gettysburg and he rode with the 7th Cavalry to the Little Big Horn.

36 years later, he was on the maiden voyage of Titanic and a few years after that, watched his friends die from the Spanish influenza.

He watched Babe Ruth in the ’20’s and lived through the Great Depression.

He watched Japanese planes bomb Pearl Harbor and fought at Iwo Jima.

Connor traveled in JFK’s motorcade in Dallas and watched Nixon’s operatives arrested at the Watergate.

He was in New York for 9/11 and still there in 2020 when the Corona virus struck.

He tried to follow self quarantine measures but the boredom got to him so he roamed New York’s hospitals at night. He could actually see the virus…little red dots wafting through the air. And he could see death on the faces of patients, nurses and doctors…an almost invisible circle on their foreheads.

He walked into the men’s room, wondering when will all this pain and suffering end? He splashed some cold water on his face and looked up into the mirror and had his answer.

Decameron 2020: Exponential Splat

Exponential Splat
By Bill Meelayter

This is just a pretty photo to catch your eye. It has nothing to do with the story. Sorry.

Splat! The broom-flattened moth dropped to the kitchen floor as a brown-gray powdered clump the size of a nickel, leaving a dark stain on the ceiling. That’s weird, I got one yesterday too. I guess two got in. I hope there aren’t more. Probably not, I worry about worst-case scenarios so quickly. What if there’s a pregnant one or a female and a male?

The next day: shit, there’s a problem! Got three today, but a fourth one fluttered from my pounce and hid.

The next day: about the same as yesterday. I think it’s three or four more kills and one miss today. Great batting average, but sports statistics are linear, population growth is exponential.

Our kitchen is an unsettling topography of clutter, dilapidation and mess – consistent with the decor of our centuried, little wood-frame house with the L tracks running through and above the uneven, weedy patch of backyard. I examine all five rooms upstairs and the entire basement. The only moths I’ve seen are in the kitchen, usually on the ceiling or high on a wall, sometimes lower.

Days later: killed several more every day. My wife, Honey, also got two or three. This is clearly getting worse. Peak prevalence occurs usually about an hour after sundown. Moth hunting has joined our list of quotidian tasks, but whack-a- mole (aka, splat-a-moth) strategy is not enough.

If hard to reach, I splat them with a broom. I can reach others by standing on the counter or a ladder and use a trap-and- crush technique with a paper towel. This helps prevent splat stains, of which there are already many. Our two cats are astonished to see such a large primate up so high. The more careful method carries the risk of escape, so the broom remains in the arsenal. I clean the surface after each splat, but it’s not enough. Parts of the ceiling and walls evolve into a deranged Jackson Pollock hellscape.

Honey agrees to throw out some extraneous miscellaneous and also help clean. I ask her if I can throw out this cardboard box full of stuff sitting on top of the fridge. “No, I want to keep that!” but she lets me move it to the storage room downstairs below the kitchen.

We’ve been through worse struggles against indoor pests. This is nowhere near the horror of the rat invasion of 2002, or even the short-lived, but extremely disturbing 1997 horsefly swarm. But this is pretty bad and is now a more difficult protracted campaign than most.

Thanks to the internet, I’ve identified the problem as “pantry moth infestation”. I read more of the entomology. I’ve also removed some weird worm things, which are caterpillars, and also silky stuff of residual cocoons. Sometimes, in one swoop I kill two mating. We vaguely count daily numbers: I killed 12 moths, 3 caterpillars, Honey got 4 moths.

Finally, I find a box of cereal with moths feasting inside. I throw it into the garbage bin outside, below the L tracks. At last, some optimism that I’ve attacked a root cause. But next day: a few more moths. Maybe this is just a lag, stragglers at the tail end that can be defeated one-by-one.

Days later: We’re hunting many per day, every day and night. One night I killed over twenty. My demanding job leaves little free time, anyway. As days turn to weeks, much of my time is spent on this stupid, disgusting quagmire. I repeatedly search the house for population spread. Honey and I scour kitchen surfaces and search for answers in cabinets, boxes and bags, occasionally triggering an avalanche of clutter.

I am depressed to think this is our new normal. Money is tight, and even on principle, I don’t want to hire an exterminator to solve something we should be able to fix ourselves. I imagine myself as a horrible monster from the moth community’s perspective, with the imitation Pollock as Exhibit A in my moth court trial. I’m certainly committing sin according to some religions. Tolerating the infestation is a greater evil in my judgement. Of course, I’m a sinner even without my recent actions of moth murder.

We can solve this, we just need to locate moth central. I look in the basement storage room again. I flash a light through the oblong, jagged hole in the ceiling for the pipes that lead up to the kitchen sink. I still don’t see any moths. I step back. Clutter can overwhelm, obscure the obvious. On top of two boxes, on top of two crates, is a box. It’s the box I put here weeks ago, and inside of it, I notice silky evidence, and inside a bag, inside the box, is an incubator mother lode. Honey grants me permission to throw it all away, laughing at the absurdity of my sarcastic question.

I was overly optimistic before, but this looks promising. Time will tell. After a few consecutive moth-free days, it looks like the nightmare is over. A week later I declare “mission accomplished” as new problems accumulate: our friend Aaron is in the hospital, our car has an oil leak, Honey’s computer crashed, a cat is puking. Will we ever transmogrify our kitchen? Improve our squalid lifestyle? Learn anything? Well-intentioned hopes flutter away and hide as the phone calls me back to work, deadlines to meet, worried about Aaron.

Editor’s Note: Bill is another close friend of the website, and this is his first appearance on our Drippy Musings. Welcome to the storied fun, Bill, and thank you for your submission.

Decameron 2020: Saturday Matinee

Well, my friends, we’re two months into quarantine/lock down/self-isolation…whatever you want to call it. By now, you’ve caught up on all of your TV shows. You’ve binged watched your favorite movies. You’ve read that book that’s been collecting dust for a few years that you’ve been meaning to read. Household projects are getting completed.

What do we do now? We have to stay strong. Whether we like it or not, this virus isn’t going away soon, and the quarantine must continue not just for our own health and safety, but for the health of our friends, neighbors and families.

Soooo, I propose a trip into classic Tinsel Town. Among my many passions in life are old movies. I spent 10 years writing about classic cinema for a catalog company, while I was building It surprises me how forgotten old Hollywood is, and it amazes me how good the entertainment remains, even in the 21st century.

Today, instead of a story, I want to recommend 5 great films to watch, that you might not have seen before, but that might just blow your mind and at least help you forget your worries for 90 minutes. Most of these films are easily accessed on various movie services that you can get with your smart TVs. If worst comes to worst, you can “rent” them from Amazon Prime. It will be worth every penny.

No, I won’t lob softballs at you like “Casablanca,” “The Wizard of Oz,” “Gone with the Wind” or “Some Like It Hot.” Even people who’ve never seen any other black-and-white or Technicolor films have seen those. Nope. I want to get into the not-obscure, but certainly not on the tips of most people’s tongues these days films.

HORSE FEATHERS: The Marx Brothers made the first screwball talking picture (“talkie”) in 1929 with the madcap “The Cocoanuts.” It was deliriously funny in the year it came out, but it doesn’t hold up half as well as 1932’s “Horse Feathers.” Groucho, Chico, Harpo and Zeppo are called upon to save a university from ruination…while seducing the “college widow.” How do you save any college? You give it the best football team money can buy. My, how so little has changed. After a slow opening scene, the movie moves at a manic pace with a non-stop stream of witty one liners and slapstick comedy. The film is a riot, and you’ll instantly be tempted to change the password on your computer by the end of the film. If only Harpo’s pantomimes were emojis.

THE BIG SLEEP: Long before the world obsessed about the romance between Brad and Angelina, a real romance electrified the silver screen. Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall had dynamite chemistry on and off the set. Meeting on the set of “To Have and Have Not” (1944), Bacall was only 19 and Bogie was married and 45. Their sizzling screen romance boiled over into his divorce and their marriage. What makes Bacall stand out so much for me is not only her beauty, but she is tough as nails and cool as a cucumber. While I actually like “To Have and Have Not” a little better than “The Big Sleep” (1946), it is easy for some folks to think it is a little too derivative of “Casablanca,” just set in the Caribbean. “The Big Sleep” is hard-boiled film noir at its edge-of-your-seat suspenseful best. Bogie is a private eye hired to keep a grifter from ripping off a wealthy family whose youngest daughter is a dope-fiend wild child. Her older sister is played by Bacall, she and Bogie spark, but she’s hiding a much more sinister skeleton in her closet. When Bogie goes to uncover it, it might just cost him his life. The banter between Bogie and Bacall is as sharp as the crack of a .38 in the night.

TOP HAT: Even if you don’t like musicals, it is nearly impossible not to love Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers dancing their way from London to the most beautifully stylized Venice in 1935’s “Top Hat.” Often thought of as their best picture, the film’s formula has gelled perfectly. Irving Berlin wrote the songs, while Astaire choreographed some of the most dazzling tap dance routines caught on film. Astaire plays a tap-dancing playboy who is trying to help his buddy, the hilariously bumbling character actor Edward Everett Horton, smooth things over with Horton’s wife, played by Helen Broderick. Broderick is close friends with Rogers. Astaire is smitten with Rogers, but she thinks he’s her best friend’s husband, whom she has never previously met. Things get out of hand, but hilarity and great dancing ensues. For fans of “I Love Lucy,” Lucille Ball makes her film debut as a platinum blonde shop girl in a flower shop. She probably only has one line, so you have to watch closely.

SUNSET BLVD: Most of you are likely familiar with the catch phrase, “I’m ready for my close-up, Mr. DeMille,” but have you actually seen the psychological thriller “Sunset Blvd” from 1950? A struggling young Hollywood writer stumbles into the home of fictional silent film star Norma Desmond (played by real silent film star Gloria Swanson) in contemporary 1950 Hollywood. In a short while, she hires him to help orchestrate her return to modern stardom, and he is happy to take her money and lustful desires. But things quickly turn ugly when things inside the bubble-life she’s created for herself get out of hand and he falls for his best friend’s fiancé. Legendary film director and writer Billy Wilder hit a home run with one of the few older films to truly capture psychopathy and other mental health issues. I saw this film for the first time when I was 12, I looked at my mom wide-eyed at the end and said something to the effect of “Oh my God, they get it.” She knew then that I’d never be a normal kid. Keep an eye open throughout the movie as dozens of real silent film stars populate the background as extras.

CITY LIGHTS: Charlie Chaplin brilliantly understood one thing: His character “The Tramp” was dead as soon as he talked. Chaplin was at his wittiest when he didn’t open his mouth and let his actions speak for him. When “City Lights” came out in 1931, people thought he was insane to be the only holdout for silent movies. Yet, the genius here is that it isn’t silent. He recorded the film with all of the music and sound effects needed to keep the story flowing. Yet, he didn’t give the actors any lines. He continued to use title cards when words were needed. Sadly, most of the music of the silent movies has been lost because the sheet music was never stored with the film canisters. With “City Lights” the movie comes with its original soundtrack, so you can hear it the way it was intended. Oh, yeah. The plot. Chaplin is in love with a blind girl, who doesn’t know he’s a homeless tramp. He learns an operation can save her vision, so he sets out on a madcap course to get her the needed money. As she thinks he’s rich, will she still love him when her vision is returned and she finds out who he really is? If you aren’t used to silent movies, sometimes you just have to get your head in the right place for them, but when you are in the zone, these movies are as powerful and hilarious as any made today. “City Lights” is a great place to start, although Chaplin’s “Modern Times” is also a great entry, also with a recorded soundtrack and effects. (Did you know the famous song “Smile” was written by Chaplin for “Modern Times.” He was an amazingly good composer, although he rarely gets much credit for it.)

Decameron 2020: Jason Turnberry

Jason Turnberry
By Art Cerf

Jason Turnberry was a jerk, but he had a marvelous cat name Hector.  Well, actually, Hector belonged more to his wife, Mary, who adored him. The cat and Jason kept a wide berth of each other. Yet, if anyone else came into the house, Hector was happy to greet them and curl up in their laps, purring.

One day while Mary was out shopping, the doorbell rang and it was Mary’s great Aunt Agatha who Jason had met only once at the wedding. She was in town from California to visit with Mary’s mother and dropped by to say hello.

Jason invited her in and told her Mary would probably be returning within the hour.

As she entered, she spied the all black Hector, sleeping in a sunbeam. She said, “Oh, a black cat…that’s bad luck.” She then smiled and added she knew it was a silly superstition but she couldn’t give them up.

Jason smiled and started inventing a story.

“We got Hector from a nursing home. He was a very solitary animal but he became famous within the building because whenever he’d go into a patient’s room and hop on the bed, that person would die within a few hours. It’s like he knew beforehand. ”

He added: “The nursing home had to find a new home for him because there were so many pandemic deaths.”

At that moment, Hector woke up and trotted into the living room to greet the guest. As per usual, he hopped up on Aunt Agatha’s lap.  She screamed, fearing Hector had spotted death in her, too.

She made quick apologies and fled the place. Later that night, Mary received a call from her mom that Aunt Agatha had passed away of an apparent heart attack. Jason knew in truth, she had been scared to death but he wasn’t about to tell that to Mary.

As he sat on the couch consoling her, in came Hector and jumped on his lap, something he had never done before.

Mary said: “Well look at you two…I swear, if I didn’t know better, I’d say Hector was smiling.”

Decameron 2020: A Joke

A Joke
By Art Cerf

Three ghosts drift into a bar.

The ghostly bartender says “What will you have?”

The first ghost says, “A Corona.”

The second ghost says, “Me too.”

The bartender looks at the third ghost and says, “A corona?”

The third ghost says, “No thanks, I already had it.”