The glass….

It’s the eternal question… half full? Half empty?

Got an email today (God Bless you) asking “You ok?…. You haven’t blogged since Sunday.”

So…….. When time lapses like that, you can just about figure I’m in the “the basta leaks.. It ain’t either half full or empty, the friggin basta leaks”mood..

But. Ok. Better now!

Glass… A wonderful topic.. Glass represents us all, all ilks of society…. From the champagne glass.. To the Koolaid glass.. And everyone inbetween….

When I taught school… paid (measly) once a month.. Oh hell. Got that paycheck… “Yessir, gimme four’a them sirloins, two T-Bones, and six strips.”… then, as the month went on (the glass wasn’t so literally full… “Ahm, ground beef works… can you grabme that Family Pack?”.. Finally.. Week before payday.. “Honey, whereinthehell is the aisle with the peanut butter?”

We’ve all been at each and every step. Where we’re at in “glass life.”..

Glasses are for toasts.. Half the time, we won’t remember what was said.. But what the hell, it’s a time to pay homage to our friends, ourselves, perhaps the couple on the stage uniting….

I thought one time I was gonna get sued thanks to glass… and little Charlie.. Teaching PE. Onea my duties was recess. Now I loved recess as a kid, but I was so damned involved in whatever game we were playing hurriedly in our twenty minutes - I never picked up on the social aspect of it all.

Charlie, 5th grader, was chasing Amy, 5th grader. Charlie’s family was probably somewhere between Koolaid and Shasta on the glass scale.. And Amy came from a fine, tulip glass family. Neither one of them had figured that out by age 11, thus the socialness of recess.

I was sitting (hey, I do that.. And I was getting paid) on this long telephone pole.. It was three feet off the ground.. And it was placed there so the kids could use it like a balance beam..

Again, Charlie chasing Amy. For Amy’s giggly safety, she ran my way. Heading directly head on to the long end of the telephone pole, Charlie caught her five feet away, gave her a nudge, and her face, glasses, cheeks, mouth metup full force with the end of the telephone pole.

“Oh shit” I said under my breath… Amy didn’t get up.. So I ran and turned her over.. Blood.. EVERYWHERE. I’m thinking, “this is it… I’m negligent.. Her glasses broke when they hit the end of the telephone pole… she’ll never see again… I’ll get fired.. Fine, tulip glass folks will sue my ass… I’m headed to prison ‘cause I can’t pay the damages.

Turns out.. A quick trip to the nurse’s office was all that was needed.. Didn’t even needa stitch.. And I lived for another day.. I’d came down pretty hard on Charlie… but, he kinda earned it too.. Whew…

Glass packs at a teen. Loud. Motorheads. I wasn’t, some were.

Granny’s “perties”… an assortment of glass figurines adorning the huge West window in her living room…

The time I owned the mom & pop delivery business.. Drove from Kansas City to Chicago for like $2 a mile.. Was 20 miles from home.. Sleepy, yet thrilled, counting my money.. Wintry day.. GD cinder truck drove by.. “POP”… “WHAT WAS THAT?”.. Broken windshield.. Talk about a draining feeling. It was (close your ears) like going from boner to limp in a heartbeat.

Glass slipper.. Don’t know I’ve every really seen one…

Glass bottles… as a kid.. These were our “allowance” so to speak. To the local Piggly Wiggly with an empty handy six.. “Here kid, take your eighteen cents.” Do you know how much candy eighteen cents could buy back in the day? Heaven, it was heaven.

Glass blowing.. Now this could either be the craftsman down at Silver Dollar City in Branson, or, my cousin’s soon to be ex who walked away… she’s never worked.. He’s got a School System retirement.. And she’s not eligible for a penny of it since she walked. She blew that glass…

Close your ears.. . Ex # 1 was a med tech. All kindsa people came for tests to the lab she worked in. One guy, the glass light bulb was out in his brain.. Kinda a simpleton, maybe (for sure) a little ‘special’. “Here sir, take this glass jar into the restroom, and collect a urine specimen for us.”

Forty-seven minutes later, the head med tech dude is knocking at the door.. “Mr. Watkins, are you ok?”.. “Yeah.. Just gimme a little bit longer.”… so ten minutes went by….

Mr.Watkins proudly walked out, bearing a full glass jar of…………………… poop. I turd you not, he did. Head med tech dude, red-faced and borderline irate by now.. Grabbed a new tube.. Gloves on to take the poop tube from Mr. Watkins.. Exchanged the two.. And spouted “HERE MR. WATKINS, NOW GO PISS IN IT.”

There’s stained glass, glass art, Silica glass, soda lime glass, glass wool, optical glass (GOD BLESS MY IMPLANTS! NO READERS!).., fiberglass, magnifying glass, all kindsa glass..

Where’d this all start from? Oh yeah.. “The bastard’s leaking, it ain’t either half full or half empty.”

When asked that question, I teasingly supply the “the bastard’s leaking” answer - but, there are just some days in life when that’s true, and it’s hard to be helped. Koolaid days, fine tulip days. Half full. Half empty. The sonofabitch leaks.

Judy in disguise, well what you aiming for
A circus of horrors, yeah, well that's what you are
You made me a life of ashes
I guess I'll just take your glasses

A toast. My glass to your glass. Happy Holidays, and please, if you don’t celebrate, don’t come kick my glass, but Merry Christmas too. Love, Victurd.