Category: random

The first thing my Bride said to me was, “You’re not allowed on the roof!”

Huh?!

Former Nevada Governor Kenny Guinn was on his roof in Las Vegas, working, when he fell off and died. I’d really like to know why he was on his roof in 108-degree weather in the first place.

My co-worker and friend Monica Jaye told me she ran into a woman I used to teach with a Sierra Nevada College. Monica says Lynn listens to the radio station and wanted to know if I was the same person she knew from way back when.

What makes this so interesting is the fact that Lynn told her about one of my many stories that I used as a teaching-tool to hold the attention of our students. I had actually forgotten about using that story let alone the event itself.

So maybe it’s time I write it down and let everybody know about my stupidity. It is actually a pretty funny story, I jus’ hope I can translate it to paper as well as I can tell the tale.

Grandma Agnes was on her deathbed, cancer eating her alive, and Dad was given emergency leave to get home before she passed away. The notification came via the Red Cross on a little yellow piece of paper.

Though I was very young at the time, I recall the motor-lodge Grandpa Tom owned and in which we stayed. Like the fact that the motor-inn was painted white and the office was directly to the right as you pulled off the roadway.

Inside the office area was good sized area, with a counter. It’s here that I recall being chased by a pet bird, a parrot I think. I also had a time with a couple of cats that were also the target of the bird.

Another animal was a turtle I had found. It disappeared somehow even though I had it in big box.Grandpa told me that it must have run away. I recall looking for it everywhere, including a culvert that was almost straight across from the office’s front door.

Dad, mom, Adam and I stayed in the far bungalow at the end of the set of buildings that the office was in. Adam and I slept in play pen.

To the right of the office was the front room, a kitchen area and bedroom for Grandma and Grandpa. I remember Grandma lying in bed against a wall with a window above it. She spent much of her time asleep. But when she was awake she was in great deal of pain and moaned constantly.

My cousin Caroline and I were hiding behind a large chair in the living room, as the men-folk watched a football game. It was there that I was talked into allowing her to paint my finger nails red. I was teased by Dad and Grandpa for this.

Other guests staying at the motor-inn were little-people. I can remember picking a couple of them up and carrying them around as they were the same size as I was and I thought of them as playmates, even though they were more than likely adults.

We would gather out in the center of the motor-inn and have barbeques and eat water melon. The center area was ringed by a grave road. It also had a well or a septic tank buried in it.

It was covered with a piece of white plywood and I even got a spanking for playing on top of it. Evidently I could have broken through the wood and fallen in and either been hurt or killed.

One morning I was not allowed to go outside. I didn’t know why Mom wouldn’t let me go play, but when she stepped outside I followed her and that’s when I saw Dad crying. It was the first time I ever saw him like that and I tried to run to him but a man, I think it was my Uncle Vince, grabbed me up and though he was also crying, he handed me to Mom.

Later that day I saw a big, black station wagon-like car pull up in front of the office. Now I know that was the hearse that came and took the body of Grandma away.

Our housemate, Kay got me a small German chocolate cake. To explain “small,” it was about six-inches across and to explain “was,” — I ate it all along with drinking two large glasses of milk.

By the time I was finished, I knew I would have h3ll to pay as I was super-full. I don’t usually eat cake of any sort and it’s been a couple months since I’ve had a milk.

Then I went to bed until it was time to get up and get ready for work. I awakened with a sick headache and a queasy stomach.

It was so bad that I refused the chicken dinner Mary had made for me. And I never turn away food — especially chicken.

So all-in-all, I’d say it’s a birthday worth remembering!

My bride went to bed feeling bad. Twice during the day she had done something to our Pit Bull Roxy.

The first incident happened when she went outside to pull a few weeds as I slept. Evidently she stepped backwards and stepped on the dogs off-hind paw.

Roxy came racing in on three legs after letting out a loud yelp. The dog was followed by Mary, who had a very concerned look on her face.

The dog was licking her paw and didn’t want me to look at it, however after some coaxing, I found that one of the toes had formed a slight blood blister. At least it wasn’t broke or bleeding between the toes.

The second thing to happen was that the dog went missing for nearly an hour-and-a-half. Mary had been watching television when it occurred to her that the dog was not hanging out in the living room with her or the other three animals.

She went outside and called for Roxy. Nothing.

Next she decided to search the house. That’s when she found the dog, locked in the front bathroom.

The best Mary can figure is that Roxy must have followed her into the head. As for Roxy, she didn’t whimper, bark or otherwise make a sound to let anyone know she was stuck there.

It’s safe to say they both had a bad day. I’m still chuckling.

As I planned for my life outside the military, I decided to learn the insurance business. At the time I was feeling the need for more money and I figured this would be a good way to get more of it , fast.

As a rural salesman, I chanced upon an elderly couple who had nothing more than a bed, dining table, a couple of easy chairs and a portable radio, all centered around a pot-bellied stove. The home was clean, but very plain.

They struck me at that time as being “poor people.”

Now, however, I see how truly rich they really were. They lived a simple, uncluttered life with more time to enjoy being alive and being with each other.

This last week has been an experiment of sorts for me. While at church I was struck by the idea that I have a personality much like Dr. Jeckel and Mr. Hyde, jus’ not as murderous.

What I mean is that I’m a fairly easy-going, laid-back guy with the ability to turn nasty if placed in certain situations. I’m really rabid if someone is picking on a child, the elderly, a woman or a defenseless animal or my friends and family.

So I decided to log some of the words and thoughts coming out of my mouth this week. The outcome left me surprised and a little less than happy with myself.

Jus’ over 84-percent of the time my comments were generally negative. Everything from politics to driving to the weather to the laundry to work caught a dose of my downward opinion.

Worse yet, I ran myself down about 16-percent of the time. Comments about myself were usually self-effacing and meant to be funny, but they were still negative.

In short, I discovered in a short five-day period: I’m a whiner and complainer.

The Corporal who competed issuing me the required gear instructed me that I should jus’ wear my helmet instead of carrying it on my back. He explained that it was less weight in an already heavy sea-bag.

Without giving it much thought I walked across base to the row of quonset huts where I knew my newly assigned unit was housed. I knew I had been had by the Corporal as drew stares, snickers and smart-a$$ed statements nearly every step of the way.

Once at my assigned building, I stepped inside to find neither an NCO or Officer. So I set my sea-bag down and entered the barracks area.

The first statement I hear was: Hey, look at the F-N-G and he’s ready for war.  The comment drew a laugh from the dozen guys in the room.

Without warning I was pushed from behind. The shove was forceful enough to send me chest first into the biggest guy there.

He shoved me away and I struck a post that rose from the floor to the roof. I hit it hard enough to fall to my hands and knees.

That’s when the big guy grabbed me by the back of my trousers and started using me a dust mop. Then he changed directions and started pulling me towards the head.

I had sudden flashbacks of high school and swirlies.

Within seconds I reacted by wedging my feet against the jambs of the head and pushing back against the brute. As he pushed I realized I could “walk up” the door jamb and flip myself over top of him, which I did.

As I landed on the floor behind him I threw 4 hard jabs into his kidneys. But they had no affect.

By this time I felt like my heart was in my throat and choking me. But I quickly realized it was my helmet, which had come off my head and the chin-strap was now pressing against my wind-pipe.

I continued to move as I fought to unbuckle the strap and free myself from my helmet.

Meanwhile the big guy continued to move after me. That’s when I looked down and pointed at his feet, telling him his boot was untied.

When he looked, I let him have it. I smashed my helmet into his face, then I beat him with it few more times.

He refused go down. Instead he stood there looking at me and I concluded that I was about to get murdered.

Then his knees buckled and he fell forward, his body making a slapping sound as he flopped on the hard cement. But as fast as he fell, he sprang back up to his feet. Next he shook his head vigorously, much like a Saint Bernard would shake off bath water.

He stood looking at me, then smiled, saying, “That was outstanding. Welcome aboard!”

As he offered me his hand to shake, I thought, “Nuh-uh, fool me once…”

There is nothing like being completely broke to make one appreciate the things in a person’s life. I found this out after I was fired from a job and was waiting for my paperwork from the Marine Corps to come through.

It was about three-months between the two and by that time I was down to pennies in an old Kerr jar. I eventually established a daily routine.

Each morning I would make myself two-pieces of toast and a cup of unsweetened hot-tea for breakfast. I would repeat this senerio twice more during the day. 

Living on six slices of unbuttered toast and three cups of tea takes some discipline, but I was able to do it. By the time my paperwork was approved and I was on a southbound bus heading for San Diego, I weighed about 135 pounds.

I have never complained about anything served to me since.

It was a pretty close call, but I thwarted the urge before I let it get hold of me and cause me to break my promise. I nearly blogged political, something I swore off last month.

For the last several years, I think starting in 2003, I have been writing opinion and commentary on most things political. But in mid-June, I decided it was time to point my nose and mind in another direction.

To that end, I’ve been blogging about random memories and thoughts. I’ve been tossing in a few photographs to sweeten the content too.

Changing mid-stream like I have hasn’t been easy, but I sure it’ll get easier as I progress. I’m jus’ glad I remembered I wasn’t going to post anymore political opinions or stories before I pressed the “publish,” button.

Like it would have killed me — besides I know where the “delete” button is too.