Tuesday, September 07, 1999
Yeah, whatever you say
This Pokemon talk leaves oldsters clueless
BY KAREN SAMPLES
The Cincinnati Enquirer
Last week's column of short items drew an enthusiastic response. Keep calling with your stories and ideas.
Strange language: A bunch of boys had a Pokemon party Sunday in Edgewood. It looked like fun, but who knows what they were saying to each other. This “pocket monster” mania has spawned a language only kids understand.
“If somebody finds a thunder stone and they have a Pikachu, they can evolve into Raichu,” said Chad Maschinot, 8, trying to explain part of the game.
Thanks, Chad. That clears it up.
The party was held by the Fuller and Kruer families. Their kids wanted a last chance to play Pokemon before school starts in earnest. About 40 boys from St. Pius School spent the afternoon “battling” and trading cards at the Fuller home.
Mom Amy Fuller called it a Pokemon Convention.
So, guys, what's a convention?
“Like a business meeting, sort of,” said Geoffrey Lamping, 10.
“I think it's like, everyone gets to gether and does something, or something,” said Andrew Fuller, 10.
“I have no idea,” said Andrew's twin brother, Luke.
See? Adults have their own strange language.
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"Jesus' sightings: Romaine Arlinghaus was among those who saw the barefoot, white-robed man walking along Dixie Highway last month. “I thought, "Gosh, is God trying to tell me something?'” she said.
On Aug. 24, the man told Elsmere police he was Carl Joseph, a missionary headed to Detroit. Two days earlier, he spent the night at All Saints Church in Walton.
The Rev. Edwin Heile was surprised to see him at All Saints that Monday morning. He thought the man might be a priest, then realized he was wearing white sheets.
During Mass, Mr. Joseph took communion and said every prayer. When Father Heile asked how he got inside the church, he replied, “The front door was unlocked.”
Father Heile said he was certain he had locked it the night before.
“This happens all the time,” Mr. Joseph responded. “Whenever I need a place to stay, the Lord provides it.”
After asking directions to U.S. 25, he went on his way.
Question: Does anyone know where Mr. Joseph is now?
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Sound off: Mr. Joseph shouldn't be described as looking like Jesus, says reader Christopher Ross of Cincinnati.
“How can you write such a white supremacist article in a public paper? To say Jesus Christ is white ("long blond hair') is ridiculous. This is just another white fantasy to perpetuate the white man dominance over all living things.”
Bad guy slept here: Northern Kentucky has a John Wilkes Booth story. I heard it from Brian Osborne of Covington, who heard it through the Kenton County Public Library.
Shortly after President Lincoln's assassination, a man named Henry Newton appeared in Cincinnati. He had a limp, a fancy education, a myste rious trunk and a temper. He got work at a farm in southern Kenton County, then became a teacher in Butler, Independence and Walton. He married a local woman and had a large family, but never spoke of his past.
Contemporaries gossiped that he was John Wilkes Booth. Mr. Newton, apparently a real person, died in the '20s and was buried in Williamstown, Ky.
In 1980, the story was recounted at the library by a woman from the historical society. Audience members were skeptical, according to the tape I heard.
First, Booth was not well-educated, and second, he didn't have a temper, one guy said. Then there's that small matter of his death in a blazing Virginia barn.
It just goes to show: Gossip is an old tradition.
Karen Samples is Kentucky columnist for the Enquirer. Her column usually appears Thursdays and Sundays. This is a bonus column for the holiday weekend. She can be reached at 578-5584, or by e-mail at ksamples@enquirer.com.
SAMPLES ARCHIVE
