Miami -- Hector Ruiz remembers moving here from San Antonio in 1962, when he was only six years old.

The Ruiz’s were an upper-middle-class family. Hector’s mom worked as an executive secretary and his dad was a pharmaceuticals salesman. When his father was promoted to Southeastern sales manager, the Ruiz’s used a moving company to transfer all their possessions the 1,400 miles from their three-bedroom Texas home to Florida.

One piece of important furniture never arrived – at least not until June 2008.

As Hector relates in an interview, his grandfather, Alejandro, purchased the 54-inch cherry roll top desk in 1941 at a furniture auction and used it proudly until his death in 1953.

The desk passed to Hector’s father. As a child, Hector remembers being fascinated by the desk and all its “magical” drawers.

Upon the Ruiz’s arrival in Miami, Alejandro’s roll top desk was not among the family’s boxes and crates. The desk never showed up and ultimately the mover (www.x-moving.com) paid the Ruiz family $2,500 in compensation.

“The lawyer told me he has no idea why the desk had never been delivered or why no one else had every bothered to track down its rightful owner,” Hector says.

Hector says he doesn’t know what his grandfather originally paid for the desk, but assumes it was quite well made because even 40-years ago it was valued so highly.

In the four-decades since the Ruiz family arrived in Miami, Hector’s parents both died and his four siblings moved to new locations. Only he remains at the Miami family home.

“I was stunned,” is how Hector describes his reaction when he was contacted by a San Antonio attorney in mid-June who informed him that he was handling the estate of the Texas man who had owned the moving company that the Ruiz family used in 1962. The business owner died in October 2007 and his real estate holdings were being liquidated.

In a storage facility owned by the San Antonio movers, the Texas lawyer came across Alejandro’s cherry roll top desk in a crate addressed to the Ruiz family’s Miami home. The lawyer did an Internet search and found that Hector still lived there.

“The lawyer told me he has no idea why the desk had never been delivered or why no one else had every bothered to track down its rightful owner,” Hector says.

Although technically the claim on the desk had been paid decades earlier, the lawyer told Hector he believed the desk belonged with the Ruiz family and the mover's estate paid to ship the desk to Florida.

When the roll top finally arrived “home,” Hector says, he and his siblings gathered to see what kind of time-capsule mementos might still be locked away in the desk. But all the drawers and compartments were empty.

“Whether dad shipped it empty or it was emptied along the years,” we’ll never know says Hector. “What I do know is if I ever move from here, I’m taking the desk with me in a U-Haul.”

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Hugh Laurie, in the red Porsche at right, got tired following me and eventually passed.

Actually, my most memorable celebrity encounter of late came about six months back when driving on Los Angeles' congested surface streets. I glanced into my rear view mirror only to see that I was being followed closely by Hugh Laurie, aka Dr. Gregory House. Dr. House, em...Hugh Laurie, was driving a vintage two-seat red Porsche and glaring at me as if I were responsible for the miserable traffic.

I'm a regular fan and viewer of House M.D., so it was both exciting and a little eerie to think that for a few exhaust-fume filled minutes, House and I were bonded in inconvenience.

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Originally Published: The Century Magazine Vol. 110, No. 2 -- June 1925

BY WALTER TITTLE

 Social life in the Latin countries is not the free and open institution to which we are accustomed in America and England. The Anglo-Saxon has his barriers that are more or less easily passed, and, this achieved, social intercourse is so general that it can easily become a cumulative burden, with some a business. To the Frenchman his home is particularly his castle, which he guards most carefully and jealously. He may have "cafe" friendships" with men for long periods without a thought on either side of introductions into the respective homes of the participants. When this finally comes, it may be taken as the best compliment that its donor can bestow.

  My first invitation to a Parisian home came from Baron Denaint, who, being half English, was a partial exception to the rule. Another was from a French boy whom I had met casually in Rome, and whose undying gratitude I had won by a trifling loan of a sufficient number of lire to tide him over until his belated allowance arrived. These were pleasant and alluring glimpses into French home life. A third was from a member of the Chamber of Deputies at a time when his family were at their country place;  whether this was carefully timed because of that fact, I do not know.

 Paris, which usually dwells in the rosiest chambers of my mind as a city of sunshine, gaiety, and laughter, can at certain seasons rival London in its chill inclemency. On a dismal October day of violent downpour I sat in the writing-room of my hotel answering accumulated letters that I would have joyously neglected were Paris only living up to the reputation that I still reserved for her. Suddenly I was confronted by two men, objects of dripping misery, with hats and umbrellas that seemed to weigh pounds, or kilos if you prefer, because of the moisture that they had absorbed.

  "How do you do, my friend?" one of them addressed me. "I am Monsieur Bélugu. We met often at Baron Stoops's in London. My wife sends her most cordial greetings. Do you remember us? I was just passing the Galerie Devambez and saw the posters of your exhibition there. The gallery attendant gave me your address."

Mme. Carolus-Duran, our hostess

  I was touched by the kindly interest that braved the weather that I was carefully shunning, and I greeted my visitors with corresponding enthusiasm. The following Sunday found me at M. Bélugu's house for luncheon, the party having been arranged not only as a reunion with my host and hostess after our pleasant contact in London, but also for me to meet the Due de Guise. The bearer of that historic name was unable to come on this particular day, however, and the pleasure of meeting him was reserved for another time. Among the guests were the Count Dumiere and Mme. Carolus-Duran, daughter-in-law of the celebrated painter.

  The luncheon passed with much gay chatter; fortunately for me, the English language was in evidence in sufficient, but varying degrees of, perfection, saving the strain of my slender stock of French. Toward tea-time we all repaired to the house of Mme. Carolus-Duran near by, where a most interesting company gradually assembled. Among the early arrivals were the principals of the Moscow Art Theater, fresh from their first successful season in New York and full of praise of my native land.

  The cordiality of their reception in America had warmed their hearts to us, and their leading actress, Mme. Chekhov, widow of the great writer, voiced her enthusiasm in excellent English for everything American. They were to open soon for a short engagement at the Theatre Champs-Elysees, and after that a brief sojourn in London was planned; but these, apparently, were mentally hurdled with an eager eye turned toward New York, where, she told me, after a second engagement in the metropolis they were to have their first real view of our broad land in a tour from coast to coast. She was expecting keen enjoyment of the scenic wonders of our great West.

 

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New York's Whitney Museum is showing the works of master innovator and Utopian, Buckminster Fuller at a new exhibit entitled, "Buckminster Fuller: Starting With the Universe."

In its June 30th edition, Newsweek magazine describes Fuller, who nearly everyone called Bucky Fuller, as "an impossible figure to pigeonhole."  Among his many hats were architect, artist, professor, poet, philosopher, futurist, and of course, inventor.

Fuller is best remembered for his creation of geodesic domes.  But he also tinkered with a one-piece take-it-with-you bathroom, a three-wheeled automobile, and a patented blueprint for an underwater city, the magazine notes.

"The Whitney show dips a toe into very deep and swirly waters," reporter Cathleen McGuigan writes.  "The limitlessness of his thinking can sometimes strike you as kind of arrogant or even nutty, but it's inspiring nonetheless."

        

Las Vegas - At first, the wedding chapel receptionist thought it was a practical joke.  "But you were just married here a few hours ago to someone else," she recalls protesting.

What Lydia Martinez, the receptionist at the Blue Heaven Chapel just off  Vegas' famed gambling strip, didn't realize was that two brothers, identical twins separated when they were three years old, were both - unbeknownst to each other - getting married on the very same day, at the very same chapel, in the very same city.

"Eric and his bride came in the morning and had a beautiful ceremony," Ms. Martinez reports.  "Around 4 p.m., James and a different bride showed up, wanting to be married."

Eric and James Rodale, both 27 years old, had not seen each other since their parents separated in a bitter divorce in 1984.  The Rodale brothers are identical brown-eyed, 5-feet 10-inch tall, huskily built siblings.  Both have receding hairlines and dimpled ear lobes.

"At first, I thought James was joking, then when I realized he was serious, he thought I was joking," says Ms. Martinez, who has worked at the chapel for four years.  "I had to show James digital copies of Eric's wedding photos before we all realized something truly unique was underway."

Since Eric Rodale and his bride, Jill, had registered with them and mentioned that they were staying at the nearby Luxor hotel, Ms. Martinez was able to reach the newlyweds by phone.  Indeed, Eric and Jill returned to the chapel to witness James and his bride, Shelley, become man and wife.

James told Ms. Martinez that he knew his brother lived somewhere in Missouri, but had never been able to locate him.  Eric, who lives in Michigan, said that he, too, had searched in vain to locate James.  The brothers' parents are both still alive, although they've not spoken in nearly a quarter center.

Ms. Martinez says she has heard about various coincidences that arise surrounding Vegas weddings, but never one this bizarre.  Above her desk, now, hangs a photo of the two Rodale brothers and their brides, alongside the photo of Liberace who once attended a wedding at the Blue Heaven Chapel.

"They may not be as famous as Liberace," Ms. Martinez says.  "But no doubt they are even more rare.

        

An 81-year-old retired Illinois shopkeeper may be the most broke man alive, having recently filed for bankruptcy for the 8th time.

Edward S. (he didn’t want his full name used) has the court records to prove that he, indeed, has asked to have his debts forgiven seven previous times and most recently filed for bankruptcy on – you guessed it – Friday, June 13th.

Ironically, Edward does not now and never has possessed a credit card.  All of his bad debt has stemmed from either business or investment losses, including most recently lease payments for his shuttered grocery business.

The shopkeeper’s first bankruptcy came back in 1950, when Edward and his eldest brother, Victor, borrowed $12,000 to buy shares on margin in an early maker of television sets.  For several months the brothers thought they’d be gloriously rich, only to lose all their investment when the television manufacturer, itself, went out of business overnight.

“My father taught me that it is better to try and fail than never to try at all,” Edward says only half jokingly.

Among the undertaking’s he has tried – and failed at – are a multi-level marketing effort to sell timeshares (failed 1961); ownership in a locally produced and bottled soda shop (failed 1974); shares in now-defunct electronics superstore Crazy Eddie (failed 1989); and an 11th-hour go-for-it-all bet that Enron Corp. would pull out of its nosedive (failed 2001).

“When I tell my friends how many times I’ve been to court, they really don’t believe me,” Edward says.  “They think a punch line is coming any minute.”

Edward says bankruptcy runs in his family.  While big brother Victor only filed for bankruptcy that one time back in 1950, he says his two younger brothers and a step-sister have filed for bankruptcy five times between them.

Edward’s latest bankruptcy attorney – only his third, says he’s submitted Edward’s record and related documents in the hopes of having his client declared the world record holder for going broke. 

“He really is the genuine ‘Biggest Loser,’” his lawyer says.

        

Los Angeles, CA - A rare coin dealer has reported that 18 rare coins, reportedly worth nearly $600,000, have mistakenly been returned to general circulation.

        

Further Memories of the Midland
By H.C. Chatfield-Taylor

Carpenters were hammering frantically one afternoon in order to finish a temporary floor in the Auditorium on which little feet in satin slippers were soon to glide beside spurred heels. Florists, meanwhile, were attaching garden garlands to gilded balconies, and nimble decorators, high up on ladders, were fastening banners of red and yellow silk— the oro y sangre of Spain—to Venetian masts, when into the midst of this hubbub came the governor of a sovereign State, very red in the face, to demand of a pair of tired young men why a box for the ball of that evening bad not been reserved for him.

One of the young men was John L. Chamberlain, then a first lieutenant of artillery, but now, so has time flown, a retired major-general, with a D. S. M. for "exceptionally meritorious service" as inspector-general of the armies of the United States. The other was the writer of these memories, functioning as secretary of the Inaugural Reception Committee of the World's Columbian Exposition of which brave and stately General Nelson A. Miles was the chairman, its members being Hempstead Washburne, Mayor of Chicago; Marshall Field; George M, Pullman; and N. K. Fairbank. For days and days Lieutenant Chamberlain had been helping me to solve the seemingly insoluble problem of how to place in forty boxes, of six chairs each, at least four hundred importunate officials each of whom demanded not a seat only, but an entire box labeled with his name and rank in letters so large that all who ran might read. Before a wrathful governor began to upbraid us for a fancied slight to his dignity as ruler of a great and glorious commonwealth, we had been prodding carpenters, florists, and decorators for hours and hours, while counting the precious moments that remained to us ere John Philip Sousa's bandsmen were due to play a march dedicated to a great republic, and its dignitaries to appear upon a floor not yet finished, while the figures "1492-1892" blazed forth on a stage where banners were still being hung to slender poles.

Just when the anger of one who had not had the politeness to reply to a courteous invitation had reached its apogee, a citizen who was either a camcriere del Papa, or something quite as hierarchical, appeared upon the scene to demand with more politeness than his Excellency had shown, yet with equal insistence, the tickets for the box of his Eminence Cardinal Gibbons. Now, it happened that the secretary of an exposition which was holding its dedicatory ceremonies six months before its doors were to open in order to make prospective exhibitors aware of its existence had failed not only to inform Chamberlain and me that this great prelate had been invited to attend them, but that he was actually in Chicago, accompanied by Archbishops Satolli and Ireland. Luckily, we had had the foresight to retain for such an emergency the tickets for a box which, although well situated, bore the number thirteen. But between the demands of an angry governor and an insistent camcriere, we were in a quandary until, putting our heads together, we came to the conclusion that whereas the chief executive of a State was able, no doubt, to create a rumpus within its confines, a cardinal might, if offended, spread an unfavorable impression of Chicago's cherished enterprise throughout the entire Christian world. To the emissary of his Eminence, therefore, the tickets for box thirteen were given, his Excellency being placated by the inclosure within red ribbons of six orchestra chairs, and the hanging upon a neighboring pillar of a flag on which were blazoned the arms of a commonwealth.

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Beverly Hills, CA --  In the effort to bolster their bottom lines, some air carriers have begun to charge passengers extra to check their baggage.  In the spirit of giving, this site's editors have devised some other steps the beleaguered air carriers might test in order to offset the rising costs of fuel.

"Not everyone who flies needs the bathroom in-flight, so why should everyone on board have to pay," asks HopelessUtopian.com.  Instead, the website suggests the airlines could install credit card swipe devices on each toilet stall, allowing passengers to be charged a minute-to-minute rate depending upon usage.

A second popular idea on the HopelessUtopian.com site is to charge extra for experienced pilots.  "Just as better hitters in baseball get paid more, those pilots with more experience are worth more than those who just emerged from flight-training school," HopelessUtopian.com writes.  "If you want a pilot who knows what to do in an emergency, you should be willing to pay more.  It's kind of like life insurance: some people want a lot, some only a little, and others none at all."

The editors at HopelessUtopian.com fielded numerous related suggestions from their readers.  Among other frequent suggestions:  Charge extra for fat customers and pregnant flyers; make seat belts a paid amenity just like headphones; create seated and non-seat sections on board, charging more for those who don't wish to stand the entire time; make passengers pay extra for on-time departures; and offer bus service for those who can't afford to actually lift off.

In recent years, the airlines have struggled to remain viable, fighting to offset rising fuel prices, stricter security measures, and record new levels of flight attendant dissatisfaction and surliness.  Since air transportation is vital to the global economy, HopelessUtopian.com said it believes consumers must carry a larger share of the responsibility for corporate mismanagement and lack of vision.

"Why should airlines take it upon themselves to operate with more efficiency and imagination when their passengers are a captive audience upon whom they can push pretty much any absurd idea?" HopelessUtopian.com asks.  Indeed, the web sites thinks the airlines may well serve as role models for other cash-strapped industries, such as hospitals.  "Would you like your surgery with (extra cost) or without anesthesia?" may indeed be the next question we all hear.

In an era of increasing content segmentation, HopelessUtopian.com aims to provide visitors a cornucopia of piquant outre substance.

Inspired by the very popular "How to of the Day" that appears on Google.com, HopelessUtopian.com regularly posts engaging articles that don't have a single good 'because' or 'therefore'. Readers just like them.

        

Tired of the same, ho hum Valentines Day presents?

Whether giving gifts or hinting aggressively about the presents you want, HopelessUtopian.com scoured the Internet to reveal some fresh ideas for innovative lovers and romantics who want to make this year's cupidfest simply unforgettable.

1. Give her an egg. No, not the kind you fry in a skillet. The kind you wear to a coronation. VivianAlexander.com is offering a $20,000one-of-a-kind couture egg purse that no self-respecting Czar or Czarina should be seen in public without. Handmade lovingly by artisans in Maurice, Louisiana, each VivianAlexander purse doubles as a high-end fashion accessory and a museum-quality display piece.

2. Speaking of royalty, how about a princess cut engagement ring nestled in a setting of gold or platinum? Princess cut engagement rings offer the brilliance and sparkle that provide plenty of "wow" at a price that won't cause beaus to grunt "ugh." Robbins Bros, with the world's biggest engagement ring stores in California, Texas and Illinois, says its experts can match you with a "gorgeous ring that fits the budget, even if that budget is just a few hundred dollars."

3. Share a special tub with waters enriched by bath salts and fragrances handmade in Colorado. The Rocky Mountains aren't just about beer and skis. Melt, a Denver-based retailer of fresh bath and skin care products, gives fresh meaning to the "Mile High"club when it comes to romantic scents and sensations. If you can't visit a store in person, visit meltproducts.com.

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