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Matt Weinstock – Dec. 1, 1959

December 1, 2009 |  4:00 pm


Dec. 1, 1959, Out Our Way

A Lucky Man

Matt Weinstock     Lee Shippey sat smiling at a table in the Broadway Department Store yesterday, chatting with friends and autographing copies of his new book, his 11th, "The Luckiest Man Alive."  Lee, a glowing, healthy 76, means himself.  The book is autobiographical.

    Lee, columnist for The Times for 30 years, now living in Del Mar, writes near the end of his book,

    "I have been able to do what I wished to do and live as I wished to live.  I have a house full of good books and a world full of friends.

    "It is only through our appreciations that we live.  Without them we would be mere clods, even if wealthy and powerful clods.  The man who can appreciate kindness, courage, faith and beauty is very rich. 

because ever since blindness cleared my inner vision I have reveled in an inspiring wealth of appreciation of the wonderful world I live in and the wonderful persons I know."

    It's rare these pressurized days to find a person who has achieved serenity and sees only the best in everything and everyone.  Lee has made it.

    What of the future?  Lee said yesterday he plans to start another book on his 77th birthday next February.


Hilda was digging up dahlia bulbs in her front yard yesterday morning when the Japanese gardener across the street, with whom she exchanges greetings almost daily, called out enthusiastically, "Too much samba!  Too much samba!"  She was sure he didn't mean the dance and tried to interpret but drew a blank and said, "What?"

    "Too much samba!" he repeated "too hot, like samba -- need rain!"


Ups a daisy, down a well,
I'm the victim of a great
    big sell.
Bigger, larger, and clever
They took my cow and left
    the moo.
            BEN BRODY


    A WOMAN,
a newcomer in the neighborhood, came to a home in West L.A. and asked, "By any chance did you see a parakeet around here?  Mine got away."  The answer was no.  Just then the household's black poodle, violently wagging its tail, came over to her.  Her eyes fastened on it and she asked, "Your dog looks so happy, are you sure my parakeet wasn't here?"  She was assured it was just a friendly dog.


    GRANTED, some rock and roll pieces are more repetitious, more offensive than others.  Now there's one awful one -- but let Ted Johnson of Costa Mesa tell it:
Dec. 1, 1959, Abby

Two lifelong friends, maddened by a certain hit tune, withdrew from civilization and took jobs as shepherds on adjoining ranches.  Everything was fine until a big storm caused the two flocks to become mixed.  One shepherd said all the female sheep belonged to him.  "Oh no they don't," the other retorted, "ewes were mine, ewes were mine, ewes were really, really mine."  End of lifelong friendship.


    AT RANDOM -- Lady named Lucy asks a kind word for the policeman named Ralph who smiles the traffic through Broadway and Temple -- even on blue Monday mornings. . . Paid up charge customers are receiving billing statements from Desmond's but cool off quickly when they read the imprint, "You don't owe us a cent -- we wish you did."  Very nice reminder advertising . . . Gal named Vivian says, "When I see some of these girls coming out of beauty parlors I sometimes wonder why they went in."