LizzieMaine
Bartender
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- Where The Tourists Meet The Sea
We did the same things here with clam and lobster shells. Grind 'em up and throw 'em in the garden.
My dad worked for Pan Pacific Fisheries on Terminal Island, California, which processed tuna for human and animal consumption. After they would remove the meat from the tuna they would take the leftovers--heads, tails, fins, bones, guts, whatever--dry them out, and grind them into a coarse powder they called "fishmeal". Best fertilizer ever!We did the same things here with clam and lobster shells. Grind 'em up and throw 'em in the garden.
My dad worked for Pan Pacific Fisheries on Terminal Island, California, which processed tuna for human and animal consumption. After they would remove the meat from the tuna they would take the leftovers--heads, tails, fins, bones, guts, whatever--dry them out, and grind them into a coarse powder they called "fishmeal". Best fertilizer ever!
WW1 - WW2 vets, everybody's father was a WW2 vet , now most are age 90 and up, and most have passed away.
There were a few processing rooms at Pan Pacific that were better left unentered; the smells were so pervasive that they almost replaced the oxygen.
My last place of employment was about a mile north of a Farmer John processing plant and two "rendering" plants (where they "recycle" slaughterhouse wastes into various products), and usually downwind of them as well. If we were lucky, the air was filled with the aroma of cooking pork products; if not, the stench (especially during the hot summer months) could be nauseating. We were rarely lucky. After working there for a few years most of us got so used to it that we paid it no attention. But every once-in-a-while a visitor to our happy little company would comment on the smell while trying not to vomit, and we'd look at each other, sniff the air sampling the stink of the moment, and say, "It's not so bad today."
He had served in the same unit with an airman by the name of Johnny Most. If you know New England sports at all, you know that name -- he was the long-time radio broadcaster for the Boston Celtics. My friend loved to tell how young Johnny had a rich, mellow voice -- but the carton-a-day smoking habit he picked up in the service gave him the rusty scrap-metal voice for which he would become legendary.
A man I knew from church had seen and done some horrific things in the Air Corps-- and was one of the kindest, gentlest men I ever knew, the very antithesis of the "professional veteran." He didn't refuse to discuss what he'd seen and done, but neither did he allow it to control the rest of his life. He came home, settled down, and spent the rest of his life running an apple orchard.
I also dated gals whose dads were World War II vets (like my dad) and they were generally more mellow and tolerant...
WW1 - WW2 vets, everybody's father was a WW2 vet , now most are age 90 and up, and most have passed away.