Category: Trials and Tribulations

Whatcha think, Joe was perfect?

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Southern friendly vs. Midwestern friendly

We were out with a group of folks a while back and I made a comment about southern folk being friendly.  It was not mlp_fim_luna_woona_by_atticus83-d4a5eximeant to disparage Midwesterners, but one fellow did take slight umbrage.  He replied that Midwesterners were friendly too.

All things are relative.  Compared to folks in the northeast Midwesterners are extremely friendly.  Having lived in all three areas I have some experience with the general friendliness of the denizens of each.

Perhaps the best example I can give would be the golf course.  I have lived and played golf in the southern states of Arkansas, Oklahoma, Mississippi and Tennessee.  It is not uncommon for me to go to a golf course by my lonesome.  In the aforementioned states, I generally did not play by myself very often.  Generally if you were a single someone would ask you to join their group.  It was acceptable behavior to request to join a group that was smaller than a foursome.   In a new area after going to the same course a few times, you tend to bump in the same folks.  Pretty soon you have a group of golf buddies. Continue reading “Southern friendly vs. Midwestern friendly”

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The Cookie Bowl

cookiejar Once upon a time, back in the day, when my kidrens were still knee-high to the proverbial grasshopper, my arm could still be twisted to get me to attend Sunday church services. My son, David, must have been around 4 which would have put my daughter, Keely, at 8.  We were living in Oklahoma City and we attended a Baptist church fairly regularly.   Sporadically before the main sermon the preacher would have a children’s story.  In the front of the church was a low stage with steps leading up to the pulpit.  He would sit at the front of this stage and ask the children of the congregation to gather around him.

This particular Sunday he did that, made his invitation to the children, and off rushed our two kids.  I do not remember exactly what the story was about, but it did involve a cookie jar and partaking of the contents unauthorized.

The preacher looked at Keely and asked her, “Do y’all have a cookie jar at your house?”

To which she replied, “No.”  Then she brightly added, “No, but we have a cookie bowl and Daddy gets into it all the time.”

The whole church burst out into laughter and turned to see me slinking down in my pew.

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Raw Okra

There is an unknown person at work who obviously has a garden.  Occasionally they will bring in product of the okraaforementioned agricultural endeavor.  Some of it is rather strange, a single banana pepper, a half a cucumber, a grossly misshaped  tomato.

Last week this incognito agronomic  benefactor brought in a small, yellow bucket of tomatoes.  Next day there was a sign on the table in the break indicating that the tomatoes were gratis and to be taken, but please return the bucket.  I laughed.

This morning there were a few “maters” and two stalks of okra on the break room table.  I commented to a young lady in there, “That is rather strange, what do you do with just two stalks of okra?”

Her rejoinder was, “You eat it raw.”

“Raw”, I said, “I’ve eaten okra fried, boiled and pickled, but never raw.”

The lady replied, “They are crunchy like potato chips, but healthier.”

I had nothing to say after that.  Anyone else ever eat okra raw?

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Impaled on my own self-effacement

Impaled on my own self-effacement1209026_10151613261694147_348947125_n

I had worked on some reports for another area some 2 or 3 months in the past. The young lady (39 years of age) whose area it is had moved all but one of the reports into production. She asked my help this morning in moving the last report. I replied, “I would need to refresh myself with the report, as being 78 years old I do not remember what I had for breakfast this morning.” She looked at me funny for a minute and replied, “You’re not 78… are you?”

Sigh.

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My Girlfriend Attempts to Poison Me


poisonousA few years back Robin and I signed up to take field class on identifying edible mushrooms in Missouri.  I ended up with a  conflict and could not make the class, but Robin went.  She came back that Saturday evening with a bag full of edible wild mushrooms and a chest full of excitement.

About a week later she decides to go mushroom hunting on her own in a local park, Faust Park, which has several heavily wooded acres.  She comes home again with a chest full of excitement and bags full of wild mushrooms.  However, this time she did not have an expert teacher with her, and she did not really know what she had.  She spread her bounty upon newspapers on the bar between the kitchen and the eating area.  I had loaned her my mushroom identification book so she was hoping to identify what she had gathered. Continue reading “My Girlfriend Attempts to Poison Me”

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Dissed by a Little Rascal

In the early 70’s my father’s job took him overseas again.  My mother and my three youngest siblings went with him.  ShirleyJeanRickert2This left me living alone in Rhode Island.  A fourth brother was living in Oklahoma.  My cousin’s husband had recently graduated college with an art degree.   He found work in a regional theatre company in Springfield, MA.  Being Okies (less in my case, more in her case) and relatives living in the East we would visited occasionally.

Her husband Steve worked as a set designer for the theatre.  Also at the theatre was a former member of the comedic series Our Gang (also known as The Little Rascals), Shirley Jean Rickert.  She worked as the theatre’s secretary, and she would occasionally act.

One of my visits was just after successfully opening of a new play.  Someone was putting on a party for the production crew.  My cousins dragged me along to this party.  I say drag as I am still not much on parties, and at that point in my life I was painfully shy.  Ms. Rickert was there. Continue reading “Dissed by a Little Rascal”

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Banks, Breasts, Bamboozled

I quit Bank of America a while back as I decided I did not want to do business with them.  I have major problems with their business practices.  So I switched to Regions.  Now they have started charging customers for the use debit cards.  I decided to quit them and open up an account with the company credit union.  Dollars are votes after all.

To effectuate the change I went to the credit union branch just across from my office.  The branch manager is a young woman of maybe 30 years.  She invites me into her office to do the necessaries involved in opening up a new account.  She was an attractive enough young lady, but no knock out.  She was however wearing a top with a very low scoop neck and some sort of brassiere that barely covered her nipples.  I personally do not find this appropriate business wear, but maybe that is just me.  Just sitting talking to her I was getting an eyeful even though part of me was trying not to look.  She was seated at a rather large desk. Every time she leaned forward to have me sign Continue reading “Banks, Breasts, Bamboozled”

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The Not So Invisible Line

I crossed a line invisible to my ego, but apparently readily seen by others.  It is somewhat of a reverse of the Emperor’s new clothes. 

I live where I live in Memphis not because the apartment is particularly nice, or particularly inexpensive.  I live where I live because it is a half mile from the office and I like the convenience of that.   My grandparents fell upon hard times for a while, and they lived in what was called “the projects” back then.  Basically it was a lot of low income folks crowded together in subsidized housing.  This apartment complex reminds of that place and time.

I came home from work today and there were a bunch of kids playing outside.  This is something nice to see these days when so many kids are inside in front of the TV or video games.  Continue reading “The Not So Invisible Line”

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Meatballs and Impounds

Fred was skinny, but then it was the early 70s and everyone was still skinny.  He had long, stringy, black hair that he parted on one side.  Add in some black horn rimmed glasses, well worn jeans and omnipresent jean jacket and you have a reasonable facsimile of Fred.  He came from a fairly well-to-do family, but he was definitely in full blown want-a-be hippie mode. We all were, at least in the crowd with which I ran.

I had just spent a year at the University of Rhode Island, mostly to avoid the Vietnam era draft.  Continue reading “Meatballs and Impounds”