Category: Life

S*** happens

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Irony at One Police Plaza

The Merriam and Webster dictionary gives several definitions for irony, but the following definition works for the ensuing anecdotes.  Irony – 1): incongruity between the actual result of a sequence of events and the normal or expected result (2): an event or result marked by such incongruity. 

Recently I had to go to downtown Memphis to One Police Plaza, not its real appellation, but perhaps it should be.  Part of the complex is 12 stories high, but the overall impression is one of a gray depressing bunker.  Continue reading “Irony at One Police Plaza”

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Undereducated / Uneducated Americans

I have taken a more circuitous educational path than most folks.  My career road has perhaps been even more tortured.  Now factor in that I have lived in ten states and one foreign country.  One of the advantages of such meanderings is that I have studied in several different fields, seen many types of jobs and industries, and I have been exposed to a wide range of people.  

I do not see myself as atypical, but sometimes I wonder.  I work in a technical field, computer programming.  Most of the folks I work with are college educated, and many are very smart.   What does surprise me is the narrowness of their knowledge and world view.  The folks discussed below are smart and successful in their fields, but the following anecdotes do illustrate my point. 

I have an Indian co-worker that related to me a story about his birthday which is on the same day as Mohandas Gandhi.  Continue reading “Undereducated / Uneducated Americans”

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Red Heads and Lime Green VWs

When I think of  my Aunt Gayle I think of a big, lop-sided smile and red hair.  Her hair had been many colors through her life, but mostly it was red.  Folks who knew her called her a lady.  She always presented herself perfectly coiffed and perfectly dressed.  Her manners were in the same mode, but she was as earthy as my father was prudish.  I say earthy, but more in a matter of fact Mother Nature sort of way.  It was a refreshing combination.

Her online handle was Sewing Mama.   She had always sewn, but in the later part of her life she discovered quilting.   She was very good at it, and was widely acknowledged as being so.  She obviously enjoyed the process and the recognition. Continue reading “Red Heads and Lime Green VWs”

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Your Curmudgeon story, please

The following comment was posted to this site:

I can’t find a way to send a suggestion, so I’ll post here, since it seems to have the floor at the moment. (Teach me the right way!)

You are not legitimately a Curmudgeon until someone calls you one. You can’t (won’t) assume that title by yourself. We all know this.

But how about a topic where we tell the others who did the deed to each of us and under what circumstances?

Sounds like a wonderful topic for discussion.  Does anyone out there care to share their story of how they came to have the appellation of Curmudgeon?? Continue reading “Your Curmudgeon story, please”

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Let your kids play

Article in the Feb/March 2009 edition of Scientific American Mind reports that there is a correlation between lack of unstructured play time for kids and crime, “By age 23, more than one third of kids who had gone to play-free preschools had been arrested for a felony as compared with fewer than one tenth of play-oriented preschool alums.” Continue reading “Let your kids play”

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Papa Deo / Papa Day-o?

Back in the day when I was married, my wife “bedopted” a little girl, Lindsey, almost from birth.  We really did not have custody of her, but her mother had issues she was working through.  The child was in our home nearly as much as she was in her mother’s for several years.

We also had a cassette tape (remember those) of children’s songs by Raffi.  Lindsey loved Raffi and we would play it for her whenever we were in the car.  Me being who I am loved to sing along on the Banana Boat song, probably because I could bellow “day-o” at the top of my voice.  Lindsey began to call be Papa Deo.  Continue reading “Papa Deo / Papa Day-o?”

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A Jack Handey Fable

I remember I was hammering on a fence in the backyard when Dad approached. He was carrying a letter or something in his hand, and he looked worried. I continued to hammer as he came toward me.

“Son,” he said, “why are you hammering on that fence? It already has plenty of nails in it.”

“Oh, I’m not using nails,” I replied. “I’m just hammering.” With that, I returned to my hammering. Continue reading “A Jack Handey Fable”