Ever had chills up and down your spine? I used to think it was a myth — until I saw the famous pea-soup scene in “The Exorcist,” when Regan, the possessed child, decorated Father Damien Karras’s face with it.

That was in the early ‘70s, long before VCRs or DVDs, when we needed to go to a movie house, rather than view the film at home. Well, the second time, many years later, I enjoyed it at home, with selected members of the family — never my wife, who refuses to watch anything violent. With remote in hand, I prepped myself: “Self, you know what’s coming, and besides, you’ve got it on a small screen.”

Did that bit of homespun psychology work? Absolutely not! If anything, the shock I felt in my spine was more intense than the first time.

I got the same feeling two times in the past year when I espied a state policeman following me, lights flashing. Dutifully, I pulled over, but I wasn’t the one being pursued. The second time, I was. Seems I cut in front of the same cop at Mills and Seventh.

As I got stopped, the policeman said I’d made a left turn, from Mills, north on Seventh, without the green arrow. I’d cut in front of him, and here came the siren. I explained that I had waited for him to proceed, but since he didn’t, I went ahead.

Apparently he bought my story — and it’s the truth — and let me go, ticketless. But still, the chill had returned.

An only slightly less chilling experience came when speed bumps/humps (is there a difference?) began to appear in Las Vegas. The first time, I got a chill just before I stopped my car and ran back 50 yards, expecting to find what remained of my car’s transmission.

You see, the warning signs are even with the bump/hump, and to the average person who believes in anticipation, he sees the sign only after losing his oil pan on Palo Verde Drive or a dozen places on Hot Springs or South Pacific. The after-the-fact message is reminiscent of the chill I get when driving through a small southern town and reading a sign: “You have been clocked by radar.”

A few speed-bump/hump-infested locations now carry signs that warn us about the coming loop-de-loop. Thanks for the warning.

• • •

A great service to the community is the annual book sale conducted by the local chapter of the American Association of University Women. It represents hours of collecting, carting, sorting, pricing, cleaning up. The second day of the fair features an offer of all the books, CDs and tapes you can stuff into a plastic bag, for a dollar.

I felt guilty carting out dozens of books, originally selling for perhaps $20, now going for about a nickel apiece. Many others took advantage of the sale. True, some may have bought bags of books for resale; obviously, many of them may have found their way to flea markets and yard sales, but the end result — reading — makes it worthwhile.

The guilt I felt in selecting some of the books became palpable when I went to the Highlands Bookstore, in the same building as the AAUW sale. And what did I find?

• An algebra book, $104 used, $136 new; Technical Communication text, $78 and $104; Math for the Elementary Teacher, $118/$158 Organic Chemistry, $162/$216; a finance text, $158/$211; an art history text, $121/$161.

It’s true that books are a significant educational cost anyway, and the bookstore isn’t necessarily an eleemosynary organization, but people often fail to fully factor in the cost of books.

A professor at the University of Missouri, Richard “Mac” Jones, who also taught Shakespeare courses during the summers at Highlands, once told me of a Missouri professor who wrote the textbook he required for several large survey classes. Attached to the inside cover was a map which he required students to fill in and submit. No map, no grade.

Would the professor accept a photocopy of the map? No. Of course, that destroyed the used-book market for the text, and each semester he reaped handsome royalties from his captive audience. Well, Jones said, the administration put an end to this colored-map-induced windfall and arranged for all profits from the book sales to go into a scholarship fund.

Quite frequently, scholarship funds get organized for Highlands and Luna students. The AAUW plans to award three such scholarships with earnings from the book sale. Wouldn’t it be nice to have  scholarships that cover books as well? But if books are already factored in, that’s great. Shelling out about $1,000 a year is daunting.

Just out of curiosity, I checked the journalists’ bible, The Associated Press Style Book, which Tom McDonald and I assigned when we teamed up recently to teach journalism at Highlands.

The price of the AP Style Book? $18. Now that’s a bargain.

• • •

Oh no, Ohno! Apollo Ohno, the American winner of eight medals in the just-concluded Winter Olympics in Vancouver, was disqualified after impeding Francois-Louis Tremblay in the 500-meter race. Ohno said later, about the disqualification, “You know it’s the head Canadian referee out there and there were two Canadians in the race.”

Ohno’s stellar performance, which earned him a bucketful of medals, ought not be tarnished by such an explanation. He’s too fine a speed skater to have to play the blame game.

• • •

Under the no-comment-needed category: The KOAT-TV website carried this headline:

Local Couple Stuck In Chile

1 thought on “A chill’s not a thrill

  1. The chile must have been been next to the sorghum crop. That aside, how about that earthquake in Chile that caused all the media attention. I’ve always suspected that when infrequently used words like Chile and Concepcion crop up in the news there is an inter-office memo to reporters on how to pronounce it. I think a recent memo must have gone out to “call in Chill as in cold and lay as in Frito-lay.” The “lay” part works, I think, but it’s not enough. Somebody forget to add that the “i” is pronounced like a long e, so “Chi” is not chill as in cold, but “Chi” as in you know what? Chi Chi Rodriquez’ first and middle name. So it’s Chee-lay, not Chill-lay, right? The only one I recall who got it right was NBC’s Brian Williams. Then there’s the Concepcion problem. I think the news readers were instructed to stress the last syllable and came up with Cone-sep-ci-on, accent on the on. Nobody told them it was a three-syllable word. Hence Con-sep-ci-on, Chill-lay. The ones who just said “chilly” as in weather, came out sounding better. Your thoughts?

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