Tag: kids

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Out of the Mouth of Babes

Every year one of neighbor has an outdoor Halloween party for the adults, a pot luck affair.  The neighbors sit up a fire pit, cook a big dish of this or that, and provide the area.  Of course, we all bring candy and mug the Trick-or-Treaters as they come by trying to get rid of our candy. No one wants to have to take the sweets home.  Resistance is futile when it comes to chocolate.

Normally, Robin is the one in the gang of adults passing out candy to the kids as they come by.  She off doing something else and gave the bowl of goodies to me to dispense to the young revelers.

I was doing so when one of them asked me, “What are you supposed to be?”

Now I had come from work and pretty much went straight to the festivities.  I had on cowboy boots, cords and a regular shirt.  I had added a newsboy hat and fleece jacket before we went as it was just wee bit cool and we were to be outside. My hair is a little on the long side.

Not knowing what to answer, I told the truth, “tall and ugly, ugly and tall…”

And that seem to satisfy the young inquisitioner.

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“And her husband?”

“And her husband?”

I was sitting in the surgery waiting room trying to pass the time until the doctor was done playing with Robin’s insides. I was reading a book, and the TV was tuned the World Cup game, the USA vs. Germany. The USA lost to Germany 1-0, but still managed to get to the round of 16 based on Portugal beating Ghana.

There were two women in the corner. One was white haired, and other middle-aged and more than a little overweight. They were also waiting for their significant other to come out of surgery.

What got my attention was the white haired ladies response, “He is independent, stupid, and overly macho.”

She continued, “Let me tell what type of guy he is. If he wants to going hunting and he asks for time off, if they tell him no, he just quits. He figures he get another job when he comes back.”

The middle-aged woman responded, “Why does she put up with that?”

“She says that she loves him to death”, replied the white haired woman.

The woman who asked the question sat there a moment, and the older woman went on, “ Of course she does, she has 3 kids she is trying to keep fed.”

The rest of the conversation disappeared into the drone of the TV.

 

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A Good Time at Uncle Mike’s House

Robin and I have a very fond memory of a night and a morning that we spent at Joe Mike’s House.  It was after Sue had passed away and he was staying in the house while her kids figured out what to do with it.  Robin and had taken our first extended trip together.  We had been down to Mississippi and across to Florida during the week of 4th of July.  As they say, we had and were having an excellent time.

We wanted to stop and visit in Owensboro.  We arrived there late, never thinking about it being hard to find a motel room.  What we did not know was that the large hotel on the river had closed down, and all the other baseball_bat_kid_by_sir_smoke_alotmotels were full.

We decided to venture over to Uncle Mike’s even though it was close to one in the morning. Before I went and knocked on the door I got a bottle of rum out of trunk (remember we were on vacation) as a peace offering.  I knocked on the door several times, each time progressively louder.  I could not rouse anyone in the house.  Remembering that the bedroom was at the side of the house I went to   that window.  I called Mike’s name a few times and finally heard a commotion in the bedroom.  I went back onto the porch expecting a friendly greeting by my Uncle.  Instead there was a wild man at the door with a baseball bat.

After our initial shocks, we greeted.  We then sat on that sweet porch drinking rum and cokes until 2 or 3 in the morning.  I am not sure what we talked about, probably our travels.

What makes this story special for us, besides the good time on the porch is what happened the next morning.  Not having any other bed, Robin and I slept on a twin bed in the back bedroom.  Even though we had been dating a few months I had never told her that I loved her.  In telling someone that, it is a huge commitment and carries with it a tremendous responsibility.  At least it should.  I hugged her that next morning and said, “I’ve loved you for a while now, but I was afraid of the responsibility of that.”  Or something to that effect.

I’ve been loving her quite a while now.

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Rev. Joe Loses His Tonsils

I’ve been telling this story off and on for years.  I told it again today then I started thinking about a deeper meaning to the story.  I decided it was really a story about trust.

At whatever time you are learning your multiplication table, I needed to get my tonsils taken out.  This was the T&A operation, tonsils and adenoids, which used to be so common to us children of the 50s. I do not remember a whole lot of explanation as why I was going to the hospital except it was to make me better.  I was checked in, and placed in a room with 4 other boys.  The young man across from me had some sort of condition that made him spasm frequently.  I did not know this, but what I did know was that he had just had his tonsils out.  In my child’s mind I made the intuitive leap that after my tonsil operation I would be like that spastic, little boy.

I have always told the story in regards to the silliness of kids and irrational fears.  Reflecting on it today I decided it was really a story about trust.  I trusted my mother, and I suppose I trusted the doctor to some extent that if I needed to be like the spastic young man to be better, so be it.  Of course, children have extraordinary trust in people in positions of authority. They have even more trust in those that love them.   Without it the human child would have a hard time getting to adulthood.  But still…

I do not remember when I told my mother of the fear that I had, a few days or few weeks afterwards.  Best I remember, she said something along the lines of, “I’m sorry you were scared.”   She then went on to pooh-pooh my fears.

So it goes.

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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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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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The Tradition Continues

When my kids were in grade school, I would occasionally have them do “book reports” for various reasons. They were never very happy when I assigned them one, but they did do them…grudgingly. My daughter is much older now and she seems to have fond memories of doing the book reports, at least a few of them.

David and his family visited us recently in St. Louis. David and Brandie were determined to not waste a moment of the weekend and we visited many of the sites in town including the Arch. In the gift shop at the Arch they had a place mat with all the presidents on it. I purchased one, I though for me. The grand-kids made such a fuss over the place mat that I gave it to them with the stipulation they give me a book report on a president whenever their report cards came out. The tradition continues.

I am still waiting for Jordon’s report. Below is Teagan’s report. Continue reading “The Tradition Continues”

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Pepé Le Pew

Most of my adult life I have engaged in some sort of regular physical activity.  The motivation derives from an effort to keep my weight somewhat in check and maintain a level of health.  Plus I just plain feel better when I am exercising.  This activity has taken various forms over the years, jogging, extended walks, bicycling, or lap swimming.

When my children were younger I mostly jogged.   I would come in from jogging, especially in the warmer months, very sweaty.  If a child was around I would ask them if they wanted a hug.  Of course, they did not, and I would start chasing them saying, “I need a hug.”  I would never actual catch them, but it was a fun little game (at least for me) that we played. Continue reading “Pepé Le Pew”