Aunt Cricket

One of my sons and his wife are frantically trying to come up with a name for their next little bundle of joy from heaven. The little lady is due in March and they have yet to come up with a name. Since all their names begin with "C" they are having more trouble than a couple with the foresight to never lock themselves into an alphabetic situation. I've tried to help. I've offered Calamine, Christmas, Curtis....they don't seem to take me seriously. Today I offered my very favorite "C" name....Cricket. To have a granddaughter named Cricket would be a tremendous honor. No one else in the world...well, except for my 327 first cousins and I, can say they had the most wonderful aunt ever created by the good Lord. Her name was Cricket. Thinking about Aunt Cricket got me to thinking about some of my wonderful childhood memories. I'll be happy to share one with you. If you've heard the story already just be quiet, nod, and smile.

It was another golden summer day in Hurst. Aunt Cricket, Bruce, Glenn, and I were cruising around the area checking out fruit and vegetable stands for free samples. I mentioned I knew a place where it was easy to find golf balls. No one had mentioned golf balls but I felt uncomfortable with no conversation. Any topic in a moment of silence was my motto.

Bruce and Glenn perked right up at the mention of golf balls. Golf balls were so much more interesting than free samples of watermelon at the fruit and vegetable stands. You have to remember these were the "good old days". The Super Ball was yet to be invented so to the three of us nothing bounced higher and faster than a good old golf ball. With a minimum of effort we convinced Aunt Cricket to turn that big old blue Pontiac around and head for the city park.

Hurst used to have a wonderful park. Before it was a park it was a wonderful pasture with a creek and surrounded by woods. We were absolutely forbidden to enter this area because "it was dangerous". It was our favorite place to play. After the city turned it into a park and built the ball park we swore we would never go there again. Then they built the swimming pool and all was forgiven. But I've digressed...back to the story.

We talked Aunt Cricket into driving us over to the area of the park where I had found golf balls earlier. She parked the car in the gravel lot and told us we had fifteen minutes. We took off at a run and started looking as hard as we could. At first we found nothing. Then all of a sudden Bruce yelled, "I got one!" The party was on. Glenn found the next one and I immediately found three more. It seemed they were popping up out of nowhere. After a minute or two we had found close to a dozen balls. That's when I saw one move. I grabbed it and was stuffing it into my pocket when my shallow little brain processed the information that the ball was moving when I first saw it. I looked up and saw a middle aged guy with a club waving at us. He obviously thought we were shagging the balls for him. We obviously had no idea what "shagging balls" meant. When we saw him we started running for Cricket's car as fast as we could. When we got close enough to the car Bruce yelled out, "Start the car mama. Start it NOW!" For some reason, and this is why I loved her so much, Cricket started the car and leaned over and opened the doors so we could hop in. She peeled out of that lot so fast the middle aged guy with the club was peppered with gravel as he raced after his balls.

We were probably two blocks away when Cricket finally asked why that ugly man was chasing us. We told her we had no idea. One minute he was hitting golf balls and the next he was screaming and chasing us. She shook her head and admitted the world was going to hell in a hand basket.

I will love my Aunt Cricket til the day I die.

Old CD's, Cassette tapes, Vinyls, and the 8-Track

I have them all....or I did have them all. I gave the vinyl records, along with the turntable to a niece who was into oldies. I should have kept them because I'm now hearing they are on their way back as the preferred method of listening to music you can't afford to pay to listen to live.

I got rid of all my 8-track tapes years ago. However, I had to keep one to use with my 8-track player. I couldn't make myself toss the player. It was a gift from my mom. I kept the cartridge in order to show my grandkids how the thing worked. So far they haven't asked.

I threw out all my remaining cassettes, save one, a year or so ago. When my old pickup truck radio decided to eat one of my cassettes I figured it was time to step into the next century. I threw away all the cassettes except for the Kingston Trio Three Album Collection. Don't really know why....can't play it.

I may have mentioned on Facebook my plan to go through my mountain of old CD's during the next couple of weeks. My plan is to keep those I still enjoy and throw out the rest. I'm going to workout on my rowing machine while listening....one CD for one workout session. I did learn very quickly to check the old CD player to make sure it wasn't set for "replay". The first day I listened to the Dixie Chicks. I used to really like the Dixie Chicks until they insulted President Bush during a concert. I overlooked their action in order to fully research the collection I have on hand. They were really great. I don't know if they are still around or not but they used to be really talented. The second day started off kind of rough. I was already on the rower ready to go. I grabbed the next CD off the top....Christmas music....I didn't want to work out to Christmas music. I grabbed the next....and the next...and once again....all Christmas CD's. I moved them all to the bottom finally and went for the CD now on top. It was Pachelbel. I like Pachelbel...when I'm reading or relaxing. Not sure it would work for rowing. I grabbed the next one....hmm, it was the Dixie Chicks again. I decided to go ahead with it before my resolve to workout faded. It was a good CD and a good  workout. I kind of feel sorry for Earl. According to the song, he had to die. I know I have some really good CD's in my collection. I have some smoking rock from the late 60's and early 70's. I also have Neil Diamond, John Denver, the Beach Boys, and more. On the country side I have the Statler Brothers, Oakridge Boys, Vince Gill. My bluegrass collection would make you swoon. So WHERE ARE THESE CD'S??!!

I may have to cull my collection visually before I proceed with the workout plan. The problem is, I bought all these CD's at one time or another because I liked the music recorded. Oh sure, I may have been immature and I know I was always about a decade behind the current trend...but I liked it at one time or I wouldn't have bought it. I may not be able to throw any of them away....don't tell Debbie.

I've created my own personal favorites on Pandora so I'm sure that method is out of date now. Let me know what I need to use in order to be 1) up to date and current, and 2) entertained. I'll let you get back to your day now....."get your motor runnin', headed down the highway..." dunt ta dunt ta da da da da dunt....

So how's it goin'?

Already 21 days into the new year and already 21 days behind with those noble resolutions I made. The start of 2016 is especially important to me because it's the first year I've entered into the fully retired portion of life. Because of my newfound freedom and empty calendars I felt it important to plan some really worthy improvements. I won't bore you all with my list of resolutions...especially since I'm failing with them daily but I am curious if others have the same problem.

I have come to the conclusion that along with my wonderful talents, darn good looks and overall congeniality I am also very lazy. I bought a new fountain pen and classy journal to record my daily actions and thoughts beginning January 1 of this year. I have yet to put ink in the pen and I have no idea where I placed the journal.

I vowed to post on this page every Monday morning. It's Thursday if you've not noticed and I missed Monday the two previous weeks as well.

The spreadsheet to record daily caloric intake and burned calories has not been opened on my computer since the day I built it in November of last year. I started out the year with a "couple of extra pounds to lose" and this morning weighed in thirteen pounds heavier than I weighed in November.

On the plus side, I have made it a point to sleep in longer and make sure I don't miss any meals. I feel it's important to keep a strict schedule. I have also placed my rowing machine in the "play room" so it's more accessible. I hope to use it soon. I have set my study up as a peaceful place to create and write. It kind of wore me out moving the furniture around so I haven't actually written anything yet but I love the ambiance of the room.

I hope you have been at least as successful as I've been so far this year. I have a suggestion to give you. This is a resolution I made years ago and it has remained a part of my life. Promise to do a random act of kindness every day. It is a simple thing, maybe nothing more than a genuine smile to an overworked clerk, but it will make the recipient feel good and it will make you feel great. I have tons of suggestions but since I tend to ignore my own good advice I'll stop there. Besides, its time for me to get started on another short story....after I stop for a cup of coffee and visit with Debbie.

I'm Done!!

I've always been a DIY guy. For those in the listening audience who don't recognize the initials, it means "do it yourself"....and that's what I've always been. My dad taught me from an early age the value of taking care of things so they wouldn't wear out or break and the value of repairing things myself when they did wear out or break. It's been a pretty good exercise and one I'm proud of but I think I may be at the end of my DIY days.

I had to be with my dad when he was working on something, whether it be the car, the refrigerator, or even the toaster. He taught me how to go about the process and I slowly began to actually be a help rather than a hindrance. I fondly remember him instructing, "Hand me the 5/8ths box end.". I had no idea what he was talking about but rather than ask for clarification I handed him a pair of pliers. In his loving way he explained, "Does that look like a 5/8th box end? What part of this pair of pliers looks like a box end wrench?". After that day I knew a box end and lovingly passed this knowledge on to my sons later in life. I never captured his talent of looking at a nut or bolt and immediately knowing what size box end was required. My own instructions to my boys went like this: "Hand me a 5/8ths box end. Oh, this isn't right. Just bring me all of the box ends."

After Deb and I were married I continued to ask my dad for help with repairs and he seemed to enjoy being needed. After a while though he took me aside and told me it was time to flex my wings and do my own repairs without his guidance. He said it something like, "Ok boy, this is the last time....from now on fix it yourself and let me enjoy my retirement!".  A year or two later Deb complained about the washer not working properly. I had planned to work on my car anyway and since the washer was located in the garage I told her I would take a look at it before starting on the car. As I disassembled the washer looking for something needing repair, I spread the parts out on the garage floor. After a near complete disassembly I was frustrated and decided to stop and fix the little problem I had noticed on our car. I raised the lid and checked the carburetor linkage (impressed aren't you?!). It was fine so I set the air cleaner aside and worked my way through the other suspected parts. As I worked I laid out the car parts on the garage floor. After an hour or two I still hadn't located the problem so I stopped for lunch. During lunch Deb informed me she HAD to get some wash done so please let her know as soon as the washer was ready. In my own mind I knew it was Saturday and the only way for us to get to church on Sunday was in our only car which was laying in pieces on the garage floor. I ate a quick lunch then got back out to reassemble the washer. Hmmm, I don't recall this piece...where does it go?? Could it be a part for the car instead?....hmmm...I had a mess on my hands. I couldn't remember how to put the washer back together so I did the only thing a father and husband can do in an emergency...I called my dad. After reminding me of our earlier conversation he agreed to come over and help me with the washer. I failed to mention the car situation. When he arrived I opened the garage door and was amazed at his sympathy for me...."WHAT IN THE WORLD HAVE YOU DONE???".  He got to work though and by seven that night he had the washer and car both up and running. I love that man and sure do miss him. There are days I miss him more than others. For example...

Our dishwasher went out a few months ago. We found a nice replacement at Home Depot. While checking out, the clerk asked if we wanted to pay $65 for installation. My response was, "Absolutely not. I've installed dishwashers before and it only takes a few minutes.". It took me seven hours and I'm still worried about leaks. While shopping for the dishwasher Deb found a kitchen sink she liked and a couple of weeks later we went back to Home Depot to purchase it. Again, "No, we don't want to pay for an installation.".  Because the new sink was laid out differently from our current sink our disposal wouldn't fit. I rationalized that we were spoiled and didn't really need a disposal. After another trip to Home Depot for supplies, I reworked the plumbing and finished the install. It took four hours. Just last week Deb told me she had to have the disposal back so we made  another trip to Home Depot for another sink. When asked if we wanted to pay for installation I replied, with some hesitancy, that I thought I could handle it myself. It took nine hours....yes, that's right. I said NINE STINKING HOURS. Nothing matched up. I made three more trips to Home Depot before the nightmare was over. On my last trip I stopped the clerk and told him, "Look at this face. If you EVER hear me say I don't want to pay for installation again, slap me right up the side of my head.".

I'm done.....

Oh boy that was funny...

I thought about telling you the follow up story to "The Woods" today. I pulled out my old notes and read what I wrote many years ago. Oh boy was it funny! I laughed all the way through it....a real knee slapper...but too long. If you want to hear it sometime let me know. I'll start earlier in the day. Right now it's getting too close to my nap time.

I don't know how all of you go about celebrating Christmas day. We have the kids and grandkids over on Christmas Eve. We sleep late on Christmas morning, drink coffee, and talk about the day before and all the wonderful memories from years past. Then when the coffee pot is empty we begin our day of celebrating. Debbie starts taking down all the decorations while I dismantle the tree. After I have the tree back up in the attic where it belongs my contribution is over. Debbie spends another couple of hours packing away decorations, rearranging the furniture to the pre-holiday positions, dusting, vacuuming, and having an all round good time. I take this time to retire to....well, just about anywhere the cleaning is not. Sometimes I go to my study but if the weather is nice I like to go outside and enjoy the quiet winter day. This is when I smoke my annual, only done because of traditional demands, Christmas cigar. I'm not sure when this tradition started but it has gone on for a long time. When it began, there were several us meeting on a patio or porch and having a cigar together. Now, it's just me. I can't seem to let it go for a couple of reasons. First of all, I love tradition. Secondly, I love cigars and this is the only one I can smoke without a lecture from Debbie.

Last Christmas was kind of cold so I sat just inside my garage as the sun filtered through the bare tree limbs. I was enjoying my smoke when I noticed a guy across the street standing outside smoking a cigarette. Being in the holiday spirit, I walked over to wish him a merry Christmas. I didn't recognize him as being a family member of my neighbor, Rob, so I asked if he was visiting. He told me was there for dinner and needed a quick nicotine fix. I said, "Old Rob sure puts together a good spread on that smoker doesn't he?" He replied that Rob had surely done so today but it was his first time to visit and couldn't answer on past meals. It turned out this guy was the friend of one of Rob's co-workers. He had just moved to town and had no family. The co-worker invited him to join him at Rob's for Christmas dinner. I walked away from there feeling all warm and fuzzy for Rob's open hospitality to a stranger on Christmas day. As the year passed, my memory of that day grew until in my mind Rob had fed a homeless guy he found wandering down the street.....you know how the mind works!!

This year was warm and sunny and I enjoyed my cigar in my front yard. I should explain here that old Rob does all his grilling on a large smoker on his front drive since the smoker is too large to get through his back gate. As he removed wonderful smelling creations from his smoker, three people stood around him smoking and drinking beer. They looked like they could use a good meal so naturally my alert brain assumed the situation. I couldn't help myself. I marched right on over there and told Rob how much I thought of him and his generosity to the homeless. He looked at me for a second and asked, "what homeless people?" I didn't want to be too obvious so I just kind of rolled my eyes and nodded my head toward the sad looking trio right next to us. Rob looked at them....then he looked at me.....and then he said, "Russ, I'd like to introduce you to my two brothers and my baby sister". I went on home soon after that and finished my cigar on my patio.

The woods...

I used to write short stories during my lunch break. Right before I started back to work I would send the stories to some of my co-workers who seemed to enjoy them. I was going through a difficult time eventually and didn't feel like writing. I started to get requests for stories and responded to each that it is hard to write when stressed out and depressed. After several more requests I put my feelings aside and spent an hour on a new story. It was dark....what had been intended as funny was brutal and mean. In less than an hour of sending the story out I was getting requests to please, PLEASE never write stories while I'm depressed.

I'm kind of stressed and depressed now...not that bad but borderline. Its enough for me to hesitate writing anything new. I thought for a change I would tell a story I told a few years ago. Its easy reading, a bit of humor and nostalgia, and most importantly written when life was grand and I walked around with a silly smile on my face all the time. Maybe retelling this story will help me get out of my funk.

"The Woods"

Long before the Methodist church made a parking lot out of it there was a great park at the end of our street. Before the city made a park out of it there was a really cool stand of woods with a creek running through it at the end of our street. We were absolutely forbidden to go anywhere near these woods for fear we would fall into the creek, be eaten by a bear, or possibly have more fun than was legal in 1956. For these very reasons we spent every waking moment planning a trip to the woods, sneaking off to the woods, or running and playing with total abandon in the woods.

It was a beautiful spring day when Glenn and I felt the urge to make a trip to the woods. It may have been okay if we had bothered to tell Mama where we were going....of course if we had told her we would have forbidden to go. It makes perfect sense to both of us even today that our reasoning was sound in sneaking off. We scooted out of the house with no problem. When there are five kids in the house it's barely noticeable when two go missing. We made it to the woods and were having the time of our lives within a few minutes.

Had we known this would be our last trip to the woods we would have soaked it in with every breath. Too many times in life the things we love are taken from us with no warning. After less than an hour Mama came looking for us. She found us. She had a switch in her hand and a mean look in her eye. Glenn was able to run because his feet were actually on the ground. He was only four though and never gave running a thought. He decided to hide behind a weed instead. A bad decision but excusable based on age and experience.

If I had been on the ground I would have run....all the way to Bedford before I stopped. Unfortunately I was mid-swing over the creek on one of the grapevines hanging from the oak trees. And, I was swinging toward a very irate Mama. I thought about letting go and falling into the creek. I would have survived with only a couple of broken bones. In the end though I landed right in front of her and took the first bite of that switch right across my skinny legs like a man. Being a man was short-lived however. I was squealing like a girl after the second or third hit. Glenn got it just as bad. The walk home was rough.

We were still getting an occasional swat as we worked our way up the hill toward home. We had never counted the kids we knew on the block until that day. There must have been a hundred of them. They were all outside as we went by. The were all watching. They were all whispering, "there but by the grace of...." or something of that sort.

We kept our distance from the woods while the wounds to our legs and pride healed. It must have been at least a week before we ventured down there again. To our shock and sadness there were bulldozers tearing those woods down to make way for a new city park. Our hearts were broken. We vowed we would never step foot in that park. Then we ran home as fast as we could before we were missed.

Its time to listen to the carols now....

It seems like the marketing world wants to extend Christmas well beyond its intended timeframe. I used to love Christmas...especially Christmas music. I'm enjoying some really good music as I write this but its the first Christmas music I've willingly allowed for the season...oh sure, we've all been bombarded with it since the day after Halloween but that isn't our fault. We, as normal well-adjusted adults, know Christmas music should be played a couple of weeks before the actual day and absolutely stopped at midnight Christmas night....I think it is an obscure law retail management chooses to snub. I also hate hearing about Black Friday sales beginning November 1st or earlier. Don't get me started on all the newly created annual sales competing with Black. I hate seeing Christmas decorations displayed well before I've gotten around to buying Halloween candy. My biggest complaint though is seeing Christmas lights after Christmas....come on, give it a rest. Santa does not need to find your house in the dark two months after Christmas.

As we've grown older Deb and I have settled into a wonderful Christmas tradition....we have Christmas with our family on Christmas Eve. This gives the grandkids a chance to spend the actual day with the other grandparents who give better gifts. Christmas day for us has become the day the decorations come down. Debbie starts in around 10:00am. She generally has all traces of Christmas tucked away by 2:00 in the afternoon. I help by staying out of her way. Its always a grand day for us.

Hmm, I seem to have drifted...back to Christmas music. I love Christmas music during the Christmas holidays. When I have to hear it beginning right after Halloween in every store or all day long from the radio across the hall from my office I begin to hate it. When I can't turn on my radio without Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree while trying to digest my Thanksgiving dinner, Christmas music becomes pretty obnoxious. Just sayin'....