A Tale of Two Sittys.....

 Yes, it takes three balls to juggle, but I'm gonna try it with two.

The first Sitty.  Band camp, long ago (pre-wrinkles). Twas before I had that bald hole on toppa my head that I can't see, but my son reminds me of every time I see him. Anways, bonified Gate Agent for United Airlines.  Mid-Winter. The Airport/airline ain't like School, the Library, even the Community Center.  When it snows 6 inches, the edict is "Get here, the aiport may close, but we aint."

The second Sitty, my fat butt in this chair, staring at Facebook on the screen, thoughts within.  Scary eh?  The perfect man doesn't exist, but if I were perfect, every story I'd tell would be rosy, Pollyanna with a bow on top.  Sorry, kinda.  It was said proudly "I got my vaccine today!"... Yippee, backflip, did-it-hurt, how? Twelve responses kinda like that, an answer, and then "I'm older than you, I'm high risk, why did you get a shot infronta me?" Holy guacamole.  "Ma'am?  Ma'am? Tellya what.  There are 328.2 million folks in the US.  Do me a favor, grab your Big Chief tablet and list them, in order, of age, need, risk, yada, all that. K?"

"Welcome to United Airline flight 436 with nonstop service to Omaha."  It was a half an hour before departure, but I was sposedta say that a half an hour before departure, so I did. There were two of us at the podium, I was still considered 'rookie', so my job was to assist any folks that needed a little extra assistance, while the other person checked the folks in, made sure folks were happy with where their seat assignment was.  Dude.  Older dude. Wheelchair. Next to the podium.  My responsibility. He'd been there roughly 45 minutes and I'd yet to seen a glimmer of a smile, expression, eyebrow flick...he reeked of "I ain't happy, I'll never be happy, I'm gonna play the game "Ain't it awful" and you can't change that. <- I don't mean all this about his having to be in a wheelchair, I mean it was his take on life, long, long before wheelchair.

Second Sitty. Coffee made, being drank. (Drink, drank drunk, I think that's correct.) Soon, constitution.  WHAT?  Is this the real life, is this just fantasy, no escape from reality.  We poop early in the morning.  It's just nature, sorry.  I watch a video of some folks awaiting the trash truck to pull up to their trash can.  Hubby filming, lady out stopping the trashman.  "Don't take this yet, open this." (A small box atop.) "Is this a trick?" refuse collector asks.  "No!"  He opens the box.  There's a rolled up, long piece of paper, he unfurled like an old English Pronouncement..  then said "I can't take this." "Yes, yes you can," lady countered. Right then and there, he sang America the Beautiful, and he did so beautifully. I welled up and I didn't even know what was on the sign he was holding. I'm a wimp like that.  Turns out it was the words "THANK YOU" and all of the letters were made with very large bills.  I assumed hunnerds, couldn't tell for sure. Second Sitty a good sitty.  Started shitty, sorry, ended goody.

"Folks as you can see, the snow is coming down like crazy.  The plane has to be deiced, so our departure will be delayed at least 45 minutes. Old man sitting next to podium who hadn't smiled since Kennedy was in office, and that I was assigned to, let out air, groan, coupled with an I wanna kill facial expression.

Back to the fat ass Sitty #2 at computer.  A Golden Retriever pic.  Six pictures of the gorgeous one year old daughter of a former co-worker.  Damnit, a political post.  Doesn't matter the side.  Dependent upon which side, it's the same critters lined up to say something smartass as if it were a recording of "We're not gonna take it" by Twisted Sister.  Back to the aiport......please.

"Ladies and Gentleman I'm sorry to announce, with the snow still coming down here, and even moreso in Omaha, Flight 436 has been cancelled.  We will do our best to assist you with the next possible flight out."  My back was turned to Mr. Chirpy, but I could feel his eyes piercing me as if I were a 4 by 8 sheet of plywood at onea those axe throwing places that have popped up allover. "I'm sorry sir.. there is another flight in 2 hours, 40 minutes at gate 59, I'll take you down there now if that's ok with you." He didn't say no, so off we rolled toward gate 59.

Chair, PC.  An amber alert.  An ad for one to buy a race horse. A 50 year old pic of a gal I went to school with. Birthday wishes to a pal.  A string of comments on an MU fan group I belong to where we'd just won a game in overtime, increased our record to 11-3, rated in the Top Twenty for the first time since Sprint Center T-Mobile-Cougarmellancamp was built and 32 of the 74 posts wanted to fire our head coach.  Me no get it. I reckon glass ain't half full.  The bastard leaks.

"Folks, I need to announce flight 446 to Omaha departure has been delayed 65 minutes in effort to deice the plane, plus, for getting the OK that we're good to proceed to Omaha, weather permitting." Sir?  Can I get you a glass of water?  A soft drink?  Would you like a bag of peanuts?  Do you need to use the facilities? His head spun sideways four times, which, I took as a no.  Can I tell you a joke you cantankerous SOB?  Just kidding, but I thought it.

Back to the juggle part where I'm at chair, PC.  Coincidentally, weather, winter in KC, City has announced they are going to setup temporary shelter for the homeless at Bartle Hall.  Yippee.  Positive.  S'more, s'more please.  A picture of a Scottish castle. Someone's cat. A post about the previous administration.  Good god Gerty.  Same folks as usual lined up, potshots.

"Well, we appreciate your patience and I'm sorry to announce United Flight 446 to Omaha has been cancelled due to incliment weather both here and in Omaha.  They presently have 7" on the ground and it's still snowing."  More conversation with the lovebug...rolled him down to gate 55 where United Airlines flight 456 was (hopefully) set to depart in a little over an hour.  It's close to dark-thirty and thankfully my shift ends in 3 hours. "Holler sir if you need anything, be happy to help." Exhale, groan, leer, repeat.

Sitty #whatever it is, can't remember but the one at the PC.  Clown pic. A view from behind of a car with a piece of paper on back stating "Learning stick, sorry for any delay." A good posting. The paper prepared us in case anything happened.  Post then pointed out, when we come upon people there are no notes that might say "Going thru divorce," "Diagnosed with cancer," "Just lost my mom," etc. A good reminder to give everyone an extra dose of patience.

The Airport Sitty. Time drags, snow continues to fall. This, the last jet service flight to Omaha is cancelled, I need to relate that to Chirpy over here. VICTOR!  Remember, an extra dose of patience, you have no idea what's going on in his world!  "Sir?  I'm going to take you down to Gate 63 and our commuter service, United Express - they are to have a flight in a little over an hour.  I really really hope for you the weather clears and we can get you to Omaha yet tonight." Crickets. Mean, staring crickets.

A Mahomes post (YAY!)  A post where hubby relates to wife "I did the dishes" to which she replied "OMG, I'll start the parade." A posting of a furry Kermit stating "It's Sunday, and I just might stay in my pajamas all day."  :

It's 42 minutes past what time I was supposed to get off, but I volnteered (or was volunteered, don't remember) to stay with Chirpy as he had no one else to assist him.  Our 4th and last flight of the day to Omaha. Still snowing just like Bing Crosby dreamed it, both in KC and in Omaha.  "Folks, I'm sorry to announce, they've officially closed the Airport in Omaha for the evening."  I was in my late 20's, maybe early 30's, so I knew if the old feller took a swipe at me I was pretty sure I could move quick enough not to get punched.  In summation of the day, and the very first discernable thing I heard him say all day...."Damn... I KNEW I shoulda flown Delta."

Love, Orville and Wilbur Wright.. Henry Gibson. .and Victurd

Anyway the wind blows....

 If I die never understanding what's going on with GameStop, I'll be fine, who cares...

Blame it on the Bossa Nova....

Hickory Dickory, could care less about TikTok, Tiger King or Carol Baskin Robbins or even who shot JR...

Can anybody.. find me somebody to love?

CNN, Fox, the Blue Governor said..  the Red Governor replied... Mitch, Ted, Nancy, Chuck, he said she said they won't, how can you take away his pudding if he's no longer at the table?

I'm leavin' on a jet plane, don't know when I'll be back again.. Oh babe...

Death numbers updated on the twelve daily newscasts.. that cashier was really friendly, nice, close to me in age, maybe, but I wonder if she's got a really really big nose?

Welllllllllllllllllllllllll........... you know you make me want to SHOUT, kick my heels up and SHOUT, throw my hands up....

Foul balls in the stands with no kids to chase... slam dunks that amaze the cutouts... Piped in crowd noise... the vendor hadta surrender...

HELP, I need somebody, HELP, not just anybody...

All I wanna do is a zoom-a-zoom-zoom-zoom.....not....look thru the assisted living window but don't touch... Mr. Bar Owner, we realize you just spent 200-thou to update your dining room, you still can only have 10 diners...

Dang me, dang me......

You know I've really been appreciative of you delivering my groceries, but three eggs were broken, the mayo cost $1.37 more than the one I wanted.... and I really wasn't aware Always Save made Frosted Fakes?....

Well come on all you big strong men, Uncle Sam needs your help again....

Funeral plans will be announced after the pandemic..... CH  CH.. What's missing?  UR.  Do pastors take PayPal?  Venmo?  Dearly beloved, our laptops are gathered here.... I'm really sorry Aunt Laura, but you woulda made the 11th one for Thanksgiving....

Hello Muddah... Hello Faddah... Here I am at.....

Sir?  SIR?  Please put your feet on the X.... and when someone exits, you can move to the next X.

Well, let's go to the hop (oh Baby) let's go to the hop...

Damnit, back to the car to get my mask, oh well, at least I'm getting exercise..  Hey Buddy, that ain't the proper social distance, you mind? Well, I live next door to that fraternity house and I can tell ya, fer sure that couple wasn't six feet apart... The only thing I've really done well during all this is eat....

Push up, every morning,  ten times, push ups starting low.. Once more on the rise, nuts to the flabby guys, Go you chicken fat go!

A line in the sand. Guns. Gun control. Pipeline, jobs.  Clean water. They're arming themselves..  Communism..  Fascism..  They're gonna wanna chip us, control our every move... 

Dizzy, I'm so dizzy my head is spinnin, like a a whirlpool it never ends..

Yard signs stolen, long lines votin', Weekend at Bernies voting, but we counted and recounted 24 times... let's photo shop Bernie.. again..

They're coming to take me away ha-haa... remember when you ran away and I got on my knees and begged you not to leave because I'd go beserk?

We needs us some Gorilla glue... pandemic gone, hands held in a circle..  arm around one another.. hatred smatred.. remember what MLK said, let's practice it.. What?  You don't wanna be friends?  We simply can't agree to disagree?

How can people be so heartless?  How can people be so cruel?  Easy to be hard, easy to be cold.

Is this the real life?  Is this just fantasy?  Caught in a landslide no escape from reality.... Open your eyes.. lookup to the skies and see...I'm just a poor boy, I need no sympathy because I'm easy come, easy go, a little high, a little low...anyway the wind blows doesn't really matter to me...to me...

It's too bad life ain't got GPS.  Right Alexa?  Quoting perhaps the greatest ginger ever:  "What?  Me Worry?"

Scaramouch scaramouch will you do the fandango...

Love, Victurd

The rest of the story....

This will be brief.  Recently did a blog on my apartment upstairs neighbors.  Two youth, with lotsa 20+ kiddos parties on weekends.. and music (loud) 24/7, not too mention trash in yard (they never put it in recepticles, always on ground, trash company wouldn't p/u, don't blame them.

Anyways.. They were finally evicted. One day owner hired some to come in, clean their apartment - when they went to lunch I snuck in and took some pics.  Yummy huh?

Paul Harvey, Good day....

On Golden Lagoon....

Up and at 'em too incredibly early again today - I peeked at the 'lights' on Facebook to see who else was up and I thought about posting "Damn, I see the same people up this time of day every day... what's wrong with you folks?"    Oops.

The cat, dog posts.  Prayer postings.  Recaps from MLK day. Yes, Biden, Trump postings. Ads.  S'more ads.  Then one caught my eye:

"Get rid of 'em, they're old." That wasn't exactly what was said, but, it was exactly what was meant.

Was this spoken to folks at a bowling alley?  "I'm sorry folks, age 74 is the very oldest you may be here, please call a cab and head on back to your assisted living facility."\

"Officer?  Is this a sobriety checkpoint?  I quit drinking when Kennedy was in office.  I wasn't speeding either. Whatsup?"........"I'm sorry sir, we've revised the maximum driving age to 75, please get out of your car. Please call a relative to take you to the back 40 pasture." (As in, it's 'pasture' time.)

When I retired, I thought "maybe I might not wanna." So, I did the LinkedIn thing (patooey), went to a few job boards, entered logistics as a key phrase - then the emails came.  And more emails.  Finally one day - a call.  In a gregarious, too damn chirpy voice "Hey! Hi Vic!  How are you doing today?" In brevity we spoke about the day, maybe the weather, heck I don't remember, but then he asked "Hey, what year did you graduate from High School?"   "Ahm, 1970."   Click.  Crickets! I laughed, took a nap, watched TV for a couple hours, then took another nap.

The age discrimination thing at work... the Federal Government thing.  Do you know at what age you may begin to be discriminated?  40. Kinda shocked me.

Wiki.  I go to Wiki for everything I want to know but was afraid to ask someone.  You do dat?  People use a word, hell I dunno what it means, so I Google it.  Same with Wiki.  About how old people were treated, thought of over the ages, wise Wiki relates:

"Historical periods reveal a mixed picture of the "position and status" of old people, but there has never been a "golden age of aging".^[ Studies have disproved the popular belief that in the past old people were venerated by society and cared for by their families.^[Veneration for and antagonism toward the aged have coexisted in complex relationships throughout history. "Old people were respected or despised, honoured or put to death according to circumstance."

In ancient times, although some strong and healthy people lived until they were over 70 most died before they were 50. The general understanding is that those who lived into their 40s were treated with respect and awe. In contrast, those who were frail were seen as a burden and ignored or in extreme cases killed. People were defined as "old" because of their inability to perform useful tasks rather than their years."

Put to death? Hells bells Gertrude, let's run to Freverts and buy new locks for the front door!

Forgive me Father but I remember times being in line at the 7-11, some old geezer (sorry.. my vision was skewed, I was 30-something, not to discriminate against 30-somethings, ah, what the hell, I just did.) Anyways, an old guy was in line, I had five minutes to spare to get to work. Old feller had turned in 43 combined Lotto, scratcher thingys, and won a total of $7. He happily thought aloud, "hmm, do I buy that $2 #37 Gold Mine, or, #22, the $5 Triple Cash Crossword?"... Point being, I discriminated. I shouldna.  I abhor, hate discrimination.

As it turned out, neither of my folks lived in an assisted care or nursing home facility.  I've spent a bit of time visiting in each - and it was a mixture of extreme happiness, with a smidget of very sad thrown in. (As a kid, I was mid-transition from Cub Scout to Boy Scout, the very first Boy Scout task was to go to a church, do a good deed [pull weeds, pickup trash, yada] and get the pastor's signature.  I was deathly afraid.  Quit.  Our family was religious - we did not attend church.  Victor, why are you telling this?  Because, same thing with old folk's homes. I was afraid to go in one. Stupid stupid stupid I was, because when I finally did go, it was very, very heartwarming. Again, the sad cases of frailty just waiting for that moment - but most were at least mentally spry, very definately happy.

Ok, you've taken us down streets, alleyways, backroads, 2-lane roads, interstates...where you going with all this Victor?

I think age should not matter in occupation.  As long as one, any age, can do the job, the hell does it matter if they're 19 or 79?

We are mid "hurry up, get outta my way" society at present - and I think many trod on older folks. Seems society too has been that way for quite some time. You see it, I see it.  The 60-something year old employee is released due to 'cost cutting', but a 24 yr old is thrown in with the mix to nix the ageism lawsuit possibility.  The grocery clerk, convenience store dude, some, not all, treat old folks with no smile, and the 'hurry up and get outta here' approach.

As my wrinkles deepen, my pace slows, my naps increase - one thing I've found... and in talking to fellow geezers, seems to be true with them too..  I/we think young. God Bless young, no matter how old one is.

We, children of the corn...no, that ain't it...  we, children of the 50's, 60's watched, grew up, lived in a rebellious era.  It's been a fun trip.  I'm not huge on potty mouth, but sometimes I think it's fun for emphasis. I delight in seeing pictures on Facebook of old people flipping the bird.  Sorry (not really) I do.  It says, speaks, a lot.  Kinda like "bite me young'n, one day you'll get here too and you'll see what I mean."

The post this morning was about Term Limits and getting rid of old people in Congress.  Count me in on Term Limits.  As far as age, work "As long as one, any age, can do the job, the hell does it matter if they're 19 or 79?"

I've gotta pee now, then take a nap, then go buy a MegaMillions.  Happy day.

Love, Victurd

Billy....

Billy was your average kid, but then again he wasn't. Born at 10 lbs, 11 ounces - he had his fair share of baby fat to work off.   Wouldn't take long though.  By the time he was four, he could be found virtually EVERY night in the backyard, smashing whiffle ball pitches from dad. Every time, he'd stare out this solemn stare at the 'pitcher', tap the plate with the end of his bat, tug his hat down a touch, and perfectly time his swing.. the ball usually ended up someone near the rosebushes. by the time Pa fetched it, turned around - Billy was sliding his needless slide into home plate for a four-bagger - just like his hero Ken Griffey Jr.

Dad worked the graveyard shift at the charcoal plant and the kids rarely saw him sleep.  Kids being Billy and his older sister Sally, better known as Sal. If he wasn't orchestrating batting practice in the backyard, dad could be found on the losing end of a game of Clue, Monopoly, Candy Lane or Jenga against Sal. Mom was fine with all this, and the biggest cheerleader to each.. habit had it she'd bring a jug of Koolaid to the backyard - or, a batch of homemade chocolate chip cookies to the living room.  Yum.

Billy and Sal were perfect kids.  Well, almost.  There was that one time in High School, Billy was driving the hand me down family Chevy Truck, and best buddy Scooter was out and about too in his dad's F-150 truck. They'd just resurfaced Highway 47 North of town - but that didn't stop Billy and Scooter from having a quarter mile race down the new surface, unfortunately on the side of the traffic cones that had just this afternoon been poured.  Ouch. Still tacky.  Very tacky. Still oily. Very oily. Billy's truck was red, Scooter's was blue - but upon completion of the race they were both pitch black in color.

Billy knew his dad would be upset, but he wouldn't smack him, Scooter wasn't so sure about his dad - so, off to Billy's they both went. Dad went to Stewart's Hardware, bought two big cans of tar remover, and he, Billy, Scooter, Mom and Sally spent the next few hours getting smelly, dirty, yucky from all the tar - but mission accomplished, Scooter's dad would never know.

Billy transferred his backyard skills to the High School ball diamond. By the time spring baseball rolled around, he'd already been named all conference in both football (running back, defensive back) and, all conference/all district in basketball - point guard.  Bigger accolades were sure to come from baseball, because even as good as Billy was in football and basketball - he was even a sight better in baseball.

He was approaching small town legend status in Greenfield, and the big game against the much bigger Stone Mountain Cardinals had finally arrived. True to the print of the Greenfield Tribune Sport's writers claim, head Seattle Mariner Scout Conner Jacobs was there in fact to see Billy live and in person.

He didn't disappoint. Double, single, opposite field homer in his first three trips to the plate, not to mention several sparkling plays at shortstop. Bottom of 7th, tied 4 apiece. Scooter, Billy's running mate in football (QB), basketball (small forward), and drag racing (F-150) had singled with two outs.  Up stepped Billy.  Fans in the stands swatting away the skeeters the bright lights invited - all stood to cheer Billy. A triple was all that was needed for him to hit for the cycle.

Brush back pitch. The Stone Mountain pitcher wasn't stupid.  Billy had already lashed three hits off of him.  His coach wanted him to walk Billy - but the pitcher talked his way into letting him pitch to Billy.  Outside curve, Billy not fooled, ball two.

Billy stepped outta the box, peeked at Satch, the 3rd base coach, just as Scooter stood on first base peeking too.  Wow.  Hit and run sign.  Two outs, bottom of 7th, tied. Count 2 and 0. Another bender coming Billy's way.  Peripherally he could see Scooter already heading to second.  He reached out - made good contact and the ball headed to right center field. By the time Billy was ascending on 2nd base it was plain to see Scooter was assuredly going to score the winning run.  Nonetheless, Satch, knowing Billy needed the triple to complete hitting for the cycle, was furiously waving his arm like a wagon wheel for Billy to keep coming to third.

As the ball was racing Billy to the bag, Billy lifted his legs, let his hips fly up to ready for the slide - as his cleats hit the ground, one of them stuck, his leg was severely twisted in a way it shouldn't be twisting...a cloud of dust happened.. ump, right on toppa the play extended his arms, hollered "SAFE", game over, Scooter scored, 5-4, Billy hit for the cycle - but he wasn't getting up. For sure in immense pain, you still couldn't wipe the smile off his face as Satch bent down to see if he was ok.

Well, he was, but he wasn't.  A trip to the doctor revealed torn ligaments - surgery ahead, maybe he wouldn't end up playing shortstop for the Pocatello Mariners after all.

Days,  months, years would pass. Nope, baseball wouldn't be in his future. From his days of sacking groceries at Clem's, he'd always had a special eye when Charlene would come with her mom to shop. That special eye translated to a first date in the Chevy truck, Homecoming.  Prom. To a year and a half later, wedded bliss.

Soon, Charlie (that was Billy's loving nickname for Charlene). and their boys Stuart and Scotty (nicknamed Scooter for some reason!), would be found peeking out the front window as Billy would drive up in his new Chevy truck after completing his shift at his second love, law enforcement.  Ok, well, third love. First there was Charlie, then baseball, then being a cop.

Billy and Charlie's backard never had a chance for a green, lush lawn. With two budding Greenfield Bulldog baseball players to raise, whiffle ball after whiffle ball was bought, cracked, taped, bought.  Homers happened. Stu even learned to switch hit. Hog heaven, they were in. Charlie's homemade chocolate chip cookies were just about as good as mom's, but insteada Candy Land, Clue or Jenga, dad refereed WWF battles between the boys. Oh sure, occasionally one would get bent outta shape - but nothing a trip to the Dairy Joy, or, to the Drive Inn Theater couldn't fix.

One day, THREE DAYS FROM NOW, Stu and Scooter were off a hunting their own Charlie - but mom was still on the couch awaiting Billy to come home from his law enforcement shift.

He never did.  The phone would ring.  The worst would be communicated. He'd been shot and died protecting the Capitol Building.

All Charlie and the boys could do is ask "Why?".. and "For what?"

Grass would eventually fill in the basepaths in the backyard, but there was forever a big hole in their hearts.

Looking over the bookcase....

Or, a little diddy about Jack and Diane. (Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent.)

I always admired, maybe was even a tad jealous, of buddies in High School that could create, fix, understand things in Shop Class.  I loved our Shop Teacher ("Jack") even more.  Cool, calm..... let's be real.  Most of the kids that loved, shined in shop class HATED English, Math, Science, the Dictation, Rules, Regulation of teachers of "the three R's." Yes, suggesting they could be called rebel rousers.

Jack had 'em figured out. I never saw the man hurry. I never witnessed him getting his feathers in a bunch. He actually even had all ten fingers. He made class fun, happy, in spite of having to put up with my fellow rebel rousers and subjects like me that didn't know a lathe from a router.

Way back in the dinosaur days, I taught for a few years.  I always worried about controlling kids, a classroom - and one longtime teacher could sense my worry and told me "Don't let 'em see you smile until Christmas."  

Well, "Diane" was our librarian. I am certain a good lady, probably a good relative to kinfolk, was neighborly, but... I never saw her smile THE ENTIRE YEAR. Not that this has anything at all to do with that, but she was large.  Quite large.

My Senior year I collected all my final B-minuses, C-pluses, paraded with the others in those strange looking caps and gowns, and flipped the tassle from right to left.  Or was it left to right?.....

Anyways, I graduated. Needing money to eat, buy stuff, get gasoline to chase chicks I never caught - I got a job. A summer job.  For, the school district I went to. On the maintenance crew. The crew leader was, non other than Jack - yippee, I liked Jack.  He made work fun, and he never mentioned the lathe/router mixup I'd had. Certain he woulda preferred a different, more 'shop' talented rebel rouser on his crew - but he was stuck with me - and always, always nice, congenial, fun.

Long about late June, our boss came to our crew, looked ole Jack in the eye and gave us our task for the day.  It seems Diane had complained (imagine that) that "Kids are stealing books...See that six foot tall bookcase right by the door?  Well, they're grabbing books, hiding behind the tall case, then off they go, stealing the book."

Our boss said "Jack, I'd like you and Hank (that was me, I never in my life had a nickname until Jack's boss got ahold of me. He called me that, I guess, because his name was Vic too.) Anyways...he said.."I'd like for you and Hank to take that six foot tall bookcase, cut it exactly in half, making a couple of three foot tall bookcases."  "Can do" Jack said - off we went for the pickup truck to load the bookcase - take it to the shop to cut in half with the lathe, er, or the router, er, or a circular, jigsaw, compound miter saw...some kinda saw - I knew Jack would know exactly what we needed, and how to do so.

Undertanding my inabilities, he basically had me lift, hold, turn, twist, but never ever operate the saw as we split the bookcases.  He did all the cutting.  Perfectly. We brushed, sanded the bookcases, scooped up the sawdust - and loaded 'em in the truck to see if they met Diane's standards.

Got the the library, she wasn't there. Again, a big lady, we couldn't have missed her.  Offloaded the now three foot tall bookcases, headed back to the truck, to the shop to clean up, clean the tools, saws, call it a day, only to meet again in the morning.  Happy Jack whistled as we did so.

Next morning, our boss stands in fronta us for our daily assignment.  Jack looked at him and asked proudly, "well what did ole Diane think about the bookcases Hank and I sawed in half?"  Boss, smiled.  Looked at Jack and said "Well, she mentioned something about half-ass carpenters so I don't think she was happy"

With that, it unleashed a Jack version I'd never seen.  His feathers were clearly ruffled, his face as red as an apple.. easy to tell the ":half-ass carpenter" thing really bugged him. He stopped. Breathed deep, then let go (kinda screaming) "WELL YOU TELL THAT ASS AND A HALF LIBRARIAN......" I was laughing so hard, I don't even remember what he told our boss to tell her.  It was fun.  I loved working with Jack.  Being his student.  He made life fun.

A ltttle diddy, about Jack and Diane, two American educators doing the best they can.

Love, Victurd