Do you remember Ralph?

How many of you rcall the famous "wits" connected with the Baltimore Sun? Probably the most famous was H.L. Mencken, an amazing critic of almost everything and an amusing and exciting author. But who can remember another "wit" named Ralph Reppert? For years, Ralph wrote humorous columns for the Sunday sun.. they were like some blogs of today, observations on everyday life.

One Sunday, before I'm sure you were born... November 2, 1964 to be exact, I retrieved my Baltimore Sunpaper from the bushes on the side of my house, grabbed my cup of coffee and began to read. The National news was kind of depressing, as usual, and the local news had the following headlines: Three Boys held in Break-in Try; "Surfers" keep Hospitals busy; Campaign ends amid Charges; Baby, three Others hurt in Crash on Route 175; $7,600 Bail set in Assault; Train Crash kills 39; Man reported shot on Dare; Two Pikesville Homes looted; Burglers take $85 at Service Station; etc

As you see, things have not changed very much in 44 years, perhaps just the money amounts.

In spite of the depressing news, I knew that one could always get a chuckle from the column written by Ralph Reppert (probably an alias), so I left the bad stuff and turned to Ralph's "blog".

Ralph wrote about a trip in a cab where the driver asked him the way to go. Ralph felt like saying: "How the devil do I know.. this is your business, not mine!" But being kind of a "Caspar Milktoast" (sp?) he just asked to be let off and got to his destination another way.

When Ralph went to a barber, he was asked how he wanted it cut. Ralph felt like saying: "If I knew how to cut my own hair, I would do it myself!" But instead, he said: "The usual."

Ralph was upset that people you spend money with now make you do all the work. In the old days all a grocery store customer had to do for himself was "color his own margarine".. now, you have to pick out your own groceries, "fish your own pickle out of a barrel", ... and often, the check-out clerk picks up things from your order and asks you: "How much was this, Hon?"

Upset, but true to his nature as a "human marshmallow", Ralph would obediently trot to the shelf, get the price, and trot back to the checkout. Then, he would have to carry his groceries out to his car unassisted (not like the old days.) And then, he would have to push the cart back to the line in front of the store.

Ralph also bemoaned the fact that when you order something now, like a lawnmower or a piece of furniture, you get a box of unassembled pieces.

When Ralph called up a service man, like a plumber or an electrician, they would always ask: "What is the problem?" That's what I want to know, says Ralph.

Ralph also bemoaned the price that service people charge for "knowing what needs fixing." (Like in the old story: A service man comes out to fix a furnace, hits the furnace with a hammer and hands the owner a bill for $505. The owner asks why it costs so much just to hit a furnace with a hammer, and the service man says: "It costs $5 for the hit, and $500 for knowing where to hit.")

Ralph also: counted his own shirts at the laundry, located his own books in the library, carried his own cans of paint in the hardware store, dialed his own long-distance telephone calls, etc.

The last straw for Ralph was when he bought a parakeet and waited for it to speak. After two weeks he called the pet store and they told him that HE had to teach the bird how to talk.

Young people may wonder why we old-timers thought Ralph's musings were humorous, but those of us who had lived in both worlds knew Ralph's feelings, and identified with them. When we were young, service people provided "service", suddenly, we had to do a lot of this "service" for ourselves. We found that very frustrating, and needed to laugh at it all to keep sane.

I wonder whatever happened to old Ralph.