Mountain Views News, Combined Edition Saturday, October 1, 2022

15 Mountain Views-News Saturday, October 1, 2022OPINIONOPINION 15 Mountain Views-News Saturday, October 1, 2022OPINIONOPINION 
MOUNTAIN 

VIEWS 

NEWS 

PUBLISHER/ EDITOR

Susan Henderson 

PASADENA CITY 
EDITOR 

Dean Lee 

PRODUCTION 

SALES 

Patricia Colonello 
626-355-2737 
626-818-2698 

WEBMASTER 

John Aveny 

DISTRIBUTION 

Peter Lamendola 

CONTRIBUTORS 

Stuart Tolchin 
Audrey SwansonMeghan MalooleyMary Lou CaldwellKevin McGuire 
Chris Leclerc 
Bob Eklund 
Howard HaysPaul CarpenterKim Clymer-KelleyChristopher NyergesPeter Dills 
Rich Johnson 
Lori Ann Harris 
Rev. James SnyderKatie HopkinsDeanne Davis 
Despina ArouzmanJeff Brown 
Marc Garlett 
Keely TotenDan Golden 
Rebecca WrightHail Hamilton 
Joan Schmidt 
LaQuetta Shamblee 

Mountain Views News 
has been adjudicated asa newspaper of GeneralCirculation for the County 
of Los Angeles in CourtCase number GS004724: 
for the City of SierraMadre; in Court CaseGS005940 and for the 
City of Monrovia in CourtCase No. GS006989 and 
is published every Saturday 
at 80 W. Sierra MadreBlvd., No. 327, Sierra 
Madre, California, 91024.
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A member 
of the 
California 
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Mountain Views News 

Mission Statement 

The traditions of 

community news


papers and the 

concerns of our readers 


are this newspaper’s 
top priorities. We 
support a prosperous

community of well-
informed citizens. We 


hold in high regard the 

valuesoftheexceptional

quality of life in our 

community, includingthe magnificence of 
our natural resources. 


Integrity will be our guide. 

PUT THE LIGHTS ON

STUART TOLCHIN 
HAPPY 5783 


Happy New Year! As I write this article it is the second 
day of the Jewish New Year, Rosh Hashanah in the year 5783. 
Just like almost everything else I know very little about Judaism. 
I have lived in Sierra Madre for 42 years, but other than my 
children, who now live far away in Pasadena and Altadena I 
know no other Jews living in Sierra Madre. 

Why don’t I know more? Ver veyst? This is the Yiddish 
expression I most frequently heard as the answer to most of 
my questions growing up. I was primarily raised by my non-
English fluent “Bubbie” as both my parents worked many hours 
a day in the eponymously named Stuart Food Mart. I am the “Stuart” of Stuart Food Mart 
and my tradition is that my mother and father worked about 12 hours per day, 6 days a 
week to take care of our family and never complained about it 

Oh by the way, if you’re still wondering about it, “ver veyst” it is the Yiddish 
equivalent of “Quien sabe?” which most of Southern California understands to mean “who 
knows?” Its meaning generally indicates a question without an answer. Additionally, you 
should go away and stop bothering people. I have never stopped asking people questions 
and in Elementary School was known as the “question box.” I have always presumed I was 
double promoted twice and transferred from one classroom to another for the benefit of 
teachers. At least that’s what I thought. I never learned cursive and I’m glad that today most 
folk have given up cursive except for their signature. Today everybody uses keyboards but 
I never learned to type very well so we must struggle together.

 This “struggle” brings me back to Rosh Hashanah which I have always understood 
was intended as a time of reflection. All I knew from Rosh Hashanah was that I had to stayhome from School and felt like I had done something bad. (Today some school districts 
treat the first day as a non-School day}. I looked up the holiday on the web and read “the 
millennia-old holiday is an occasion for reflection and penitence” which I guess means 
feeling bad. As the only Jewish kid in class I had to explain to the teacher why I didn’t have 
to go to School. I did feel bad as once the kids found out that I could miss School because I 
was Jewish they frequently would chase me and say “Why did you kill Christ?” I, of course, 
didn’t understand and asked my bubbie and got a typical Ver veyst – but this time I even 
asked my mother who told me that, in fact Jesus Christ was Jewish and the other kids were 
just ignorant.

 At first we lived in a pretty safe Jewish Community but times changed almost as 
I entered School the family moved to South Side Chicago where my father purchased a 
mom and pop grocery store and changed the name to Stuart Food Mart, perhaps to make 
me feel more comfortable. Ver veyst. But I was the only Jewish kid I knew even though I 
didn’t know what that exactly meant. 

Today I am writing about my Jewish connection as in the middle of October we 
have been invited to a relative’s wedding in Chicago. Unfortunately, Stuart Food Mart was 
demolished in the Chicago riots. Last time as we viewed the rubble we were surrounded 
by about ten people of color who asked what we were doing there. I explained that I used 
to live right near there and that the store that formerly stood there was named for me. 
The people explained that they were from the nearby Mt. Carmel Church and just kind 
of watched over the property. My wife salvaged from the rubble a three inch piece of tile 
that I hold today as part of my individual tradition. It is my hope that my son and I will 
be able again to view the site. As Tevya sings in “Fiddler on the Roof ” Tradition!- this is 
my Tradition-the tradition of a kind of permanent outsider who asks a lot of questions 
and still knows so few answers. Today everything is so confused and mixed-up that as I 
long for answers. At least I know that I am not alone. As I understand it after New Years 
there are ten days of reflection until Yom Kippur the “day of atonement”. I don’t know how 
much of it is our fault but as Jews and Human Beings let us all make amends and ask for 
common, universal forgiveness from who or what I don’t know----perhaps ourselves. 

DINAH CHONG WATKINS 


CLOSE ENCOUNTERS OF THE WRONG KIND 

STATE FAIR 

“Our State Fair is a great State Fair, don’t miss it, don’t even 
be late. It’s dollars to doughnuts that our State Fair is the best 
State Fair in the state.” 

It was that old show tune and the heart pounding promise of 
deep fried corn dogs, Twinkies and strawberry topped funnel 
cakes that lured me to the “State Fair” at the Santa Anita 
racetrack. But unlike in the days of my youth, this Fair had no side shows. No carnybarkers cajoling you to drop a half dollar to see the mysteries of the forgotten world. 
Back then, fantastical beings and death defying stunts waited beyond the red and white 
striped curtains. Now, the only bearded ladies to be found were heavy-set babushkas, 
antiseptic wipe at the ready while they watched over their grandchildren at the petting 
zoo. 

I mistimed my visit, too late for the pig race and hours too early for the Human Cannonball. 
Which in hindsight, would make an excellent fundraiser. Imagine, the highest 
bidder could choose a person to stuff into the cannon, it would be a game changer for 
divorce lawyers everywhere. 

An involuntary gurgle squeaked up my throat, it was the foot-long corn dog comingback for air, well - at least 4 inches of it. I needed some exercise and spotted The Giant 
Slide; when I was a kid it was my father’s favorite as it cost the least amount of tickets. 
I must have had a senior moment as I started to climb up the Giant Slide's rickety set 
of steps. A brain fart that overrode my otherwise good common sense. My surprise at 
making it to the top without passing out only added to the giddiness I felt, the memories 
of my youth and possibly oxygen deprivation made me relish the moment. 

The bored attendant handed me a dirt brown, worn burlap sack. How many potatoes 
sacrificed themselves so I could careen down this mogul-humped slide I wondered. 

Awkwardly, I sat down on the scratchy sack, my feet tucked into the hand-stitched 
pocket, the one and only safety measure. Then, like the Calvary charging in at the last 
moment to save the day, my brain yelled “Stop! You’re too old for this!”, but gravity and 
generations of chubby bums transformed the metal track into a slick of ice, I hurled 
unwillingly towards the bottom. 

They say before you die your life flashes in front of you. During the split seconds of 
slow-motion terror, I took small comfort that the only thing I saw was the five storydrop to my right that inconveniently had no guard rail. I hit the last mogul and was free-
falling back on the hot metal slide when I finally landed onto the Astro-turf covered 
concrete slab, leaving me with a cheap case of rug rash. 

I pulled myself up, I felt so alive! I had come through the other end of my own death-defying 
stunt. Waiting across the fairgrounds was my true reward - a double dipped, deep-
fried Oreo; my 10 milligram dose of Zestril be damned! Gingerly, I stepped around the 
toddler who had just rolled down the slide, “Yes,” I nodded to him, my chin magnanimously 
tipped upright, “You can call me Hero”. 


RICH & FAMOUS 

DIDDLY SQUAT, 
GOBBLEDYGOOK AND 
SNOLLYGOSTER 


Why not expand our use of the language 
this week and dive into the meaning of old words we might already be using? 
Hmmm! Let’s see what we can find. 

Cattywampus: From 1830 means askew or awry, positioned diagonally. 
Like so many cars parked in parking lots I frequent. You know, the cars 
taking 2 spaces. 

Diddly-squat: Not to be confused with doodly-squat. The term means 
minimal and inconsequential. I’ll use it in a sentence: “Rich knows diddlysquat 
about using power tools. 

Kerfuffle: A British term meaning a fuss, commotion as in, “Rich’s column 
caused quite a kerfuffle.” 

Dongle: This word caused a little kerfuffle because of being reminiscent 
of certain coarse language used referring to human anatomy (that’s all I’m 
saying). What’s a dongle? Example: That little piece of computer hardware 
you connect to a computer port to make your wireless mouse work. 

Snark: A mysterious, imaginary animal. Term coined by Lewis Carroll. 
Also used to refer to rude or sarcastic criticism. And people can be snarky. 
Snark-snark! 

Snollygoster: From the late 1840’s South a snollygoster is a “clever, unscrupulous 
person, like politicians (unlike our wonderful Sierra Madre 
council members). 

Gazump: For my realtor friends gazump means “to cheat a house buyer by 
raising an agreed upon price at the time of contract signing. The term is 
also slang for a politician who takes bribes. 

Widdershins: to go in a direction opposite of the usual way. (Now that 
could be me). 

Gobbledegook: A Texas Congressman in 1944 coined the term to describe 
frustrating jargon used by politicians. It reminded him of the sound of 
turkeys gobbling. I’m sure many readers consider my contribution to the 
heralded newspaper as little more than gobbledegook. I know I do! 

Discombobulate: A fun word to say, it means “to confuse, upset, or 
frustrate.” 

Flummox: To bewilder, confound, or confuse…wait, that’s my mission 
statement. First used by Charles Dickens in his 1837 
Pickwick Papers. 

Collywobbles: “Collywobbles, intense anxiety. I have butterflies in my 
stomach.” If you check out the 1823 edition of A Classic Dictionary of the 
Vulgar Tongue, you will find the term. 

Mugwump: It’s origins in presidential politics in 1884. Any Republican 
who refused to support the Republican nominee for president was a mugwump. 
Also a person who is unable to make up his or her mind on an 
issue. The Mugwumps was also a 1960s folk rock band made up of John 
Sebastian and Zal Yanovsky of “the Lovin’ Spoonful”, and Mama Cass and 
Denny Doherty of “the Mamas and the Papas”. Before they became famous 

Doohickey: A gadget. One of those little items in your kitchen junk drawer. 
(A dongle is a doohickey). 

Doodad: A gadget or object whose name the speaker cannot recall. 

Bumfuzzle: To confuse or fluster. You might be experiencing bumfuzzle 
at this very moment. 

Bum: “Bum” also refers to ones “rear end”. 

Canoodle: Playful public displays of affection. There are no noodles in 
canoodle. 

Thank you for reading my column. 

My greatest joy is for my columns to brighten your day and tickle your 
senses. I truly hope you will share little bits of trivia with others and experience 
the same joy I feel sharing with you. One condition: Take all the 
credit for any cleverness people may ascribe to you.
As for me, I’d like to go canoodle but I don’t have a paddle. Such is life. 
-Rich 


Mountain Views News 80 W Sierra Madre Blvd. No. 327 Sierra Madre, Ca. 91024 Office: 626.355.2737 Fax: 626.609.3285 
Email: editor@mtnviewsnews.com Website: www.mtnviewsnews.com