I enjoy writing. I get bored, especially in the present day and age. Thus, I write. Admittedly, Covid depression has told me there ain't much fun to write about. Today, I write. I no forcy you to be here, I no hold you down... .consider it like the dinner you've ordered at Cheddars (or similar):
1: Ya ain't even gotta dine inside (ie, no haveta readie blog)
2. Take a few nibbles, if edible, you can stomach, by all means I'd love to have you read, if not, simply jumble the veggies around to make it look like ya tried some, then walk away, I won't get upset, honest!
I work part-time at a par 3 golf course in a small suburban town. It ain't 'my town', but I love it nonetheless. The City, continuous concrete, stoplights ain't come to bury it yet - thus, there's Green Acres around it. (Green Acres is the place to be. Farm livin is the life for me. Land spreadin out so far and wide, keep Kansas City just give me that countryside.)
Normal. Normal ain't happened since March. Except in this little spice of life.
Shoulder to shoulder my buddies and I sat back in March and watched a HS basketball game. At half, rumors floated the big college basketball tourney in KC would limit spectators to 250 per game. Then, soon, games cancelled. Schools cancelled. Barber shops, salons, bars, restaurants, closed. The County rubber stamp ('closed until further notice') hammered and hammered.
Except this little spice of life.
With the outdoor spacing of golf, the attainment of exercise - it was deemed ok to keep golf courses open - with some no touch restrictions. (1 person per cart, carts sanitized after each use, no touchy the flag stick, cups inverted so the ball wouldn't go way down where you'd have to touch where someone else had touched. Sand traps "unplayable' - couldn't have multiple people touching the rakes, etc, etc.)
My first day after the County rubber stamp.. RING.... RING... RING... I p/u the phone, "The Club at (where I work) this is Vic, can I help you?" JUST TELL ME SIR, HOW DO YOU THINK YOU ARE ESSENTIAL? I SEE PEOPLE ALL OVER THE PLACE, AGAIN, JUST TELL ME HOW YOU THINK YOU ARE ESSENTIAL?"
In my best Midwestern hick I said "Sir, I'm simply an hourly employee here. It's my understanding the County made the decision to allow us to continue to be open." He went on...and on... and on..I let him beat me up pretty good.. . I felt as if I'd just been screamed at by my 8th grade English teacher for not turning in my final assignment.
Whew, back to positive. I truly love this place (the golf course).. It's a microcosm of life. We gots folks of all extremes of economics... we have big people, small people, average size people, young people, middle aged folks, old folks, and really old folks. Oh yeah, and kids. The kids are fun.
It is rewarding to watch the many parents that bring their 7, 9, 12, 14 year old kiddo in, and teach them the game. I see patience. I see love. I see memories being made where one day one will remember "Damn I wish mom/dad were still here... I remember how much fun we had playing golf together."
I love, love, love, couples that play golf together. As someone who has basically been single for 19 years or so, (oh, a couple of 'couple' interuptions, nuttin' permanent) it's simply cool to be able to snooze at night, reach over and remind yourself someone else occupies the bed with you. Me thinks some don't appreciate that. Reckon when ya ain't got, you appreciate got more.
Anyways... After getting to know couples awhile, I like to ask "how'd you guys meet?" The answers have varied from "oh, we have been boyfriend/girlfriend since the 8th grade.".... "ahm, we met at a bar.".. "42 years ago today, we went roller skating on our first date.".... Well, we had a farm and we lived closeby. I was 19, she was 15 and I asked her daddy if I could go swimming in their pond. The rest is history!"
The folks that met in the pond. They are approximately 70-something. You can tell he's had some lung issues as it's very hard to ascertain what his soft voice is saying. Sadly, we haven't seen them this summer. We are all praying they've stayed away due to Covid - and hope to ne'er hear otherwise.
Happy. Happy abounds. A bad day of golf is better than a good day at work.
When the rubber stamp came down, folks couldn't go to church, to a ballgame, to a funeral, LIMITED. The pep in the step of folks when they get outta their cars and walk into our clubhouse is rewarding, both for us, and for them. "Closest thing to normal we've got. I/we are soooooo thankful you guys have been allowed to stay open." Say mister, can I give you the number of the guy who asked me WHY DO YOU THINK YOU ARE ESSENTIAL and you could give him a call? Just kidding, but it did cross my brain.
Sanity. In a world of boredom, fear, political battles, inability to even visit a loved one in a nursing home - the golf course has stayed pretty much normal. Allowed, pretty much normal.
NICE. We've got nice. We'll get a group of four and the first guy (or gal) that gets there will say "I wanna go ahead and pay for my buddies too."... or, they will talk/smile/visit, then throw a 5 dollar bill in the tip jar. People smile. People say thanks. Repeat customers will ask "how ya doin' (and call the employee by name)?"
I was very impressed the day the 89 year old guy was the first to arrive, jumped out spryly, completed 18 holes in no time.. smiled, thanked, went about his way, only to repeat again the next week. Maybe outdone, Father's Day. 92 year old dude, two sons. "I'd like to pay for my dad's golf. We do this every Father's Day and we have for a long time. We've never beaten him."... As they pulled their cart from hole #18 to their car, I walked and inquired.. "well? Did you keep your streak alive and whip the whippersnappers?".. Laughter, head nod affirmatively, "yes." Farm out.
We keep the TV's on the Golf Channel, ESPN, anything sports. If the TV ain't on, we've got blaring in the clubhouse, on the back deck, and on the pool deck, a little Motown, or maybe Rolling Stones Channel, of, New Country hits compliments of Pandora. No CNN, FOX, MSNBC, yada, and.. that's the way, aha aha, we like it aha aha.
People leave anything, everything on the course, or in their golf cart. There was the guy who threw his brother's clubs in the trunk of the locked car. closed it.. and "uh oh, my car keys were in there." People leave phones, them little portable speakers, clubs, head covers, golf balls, tees, change, 'chaw', full beers, much, in their cart.
People leave wallets with real $20's and $50's in 'em, and if we don't catch it, the folks who ride in that cart next find it, and, turn it in, and MONEY INTACT. Scroll to I love this town, Green Acres is the place to be.
The pool. Our capacity is 74. When the first rubber stamp came down, we were only allowed 19 swimmers. Folks hadta make reservations, in fairness to all, we hadta limit members to a two hour max stay, it was a pain. Rubber stamp #2, we were allowed 34 folks, life was/is good, the termites flail away, the oldsters sit 6 feet apart, drink in hand (or not), relax, visit, some-kinda-normal, thankyouverymuch.
I love when the little 3 year old blonde child walks in with a Donald Duck innertube wrapped around her body, and the astonished look on her face when one of us asks excitedly "oh, are you gonna play golf?"
Band camp, long ago, I dealt craps in a casino. Our motto was "we go to fun to have work." It really was a party. Same with this. We know we're lucky, many aren't, and this is certainly not meant to rub it in. It's meant to moreso say thanks to how this has worked out so far, and allowing us, and our customers, some sense of normalcy.
Oh yeah, people even play golf here!
I was gonna entitle this blog 'Fore Play' but then I feared you might think I was a perve. So, Fore Sanity will do I guess.
Come see us. Kearney, MO. It's a little slice of spice. Green Acres is the place to be.
Love, Victurd
Thursday, July 30, 2020
Wednesday, June 17, 2020
Look what they've done to my......................
World, Ma....
Look what they've done to my World, Ma
See my beard? Ain't it weird?
Holy guacamole....
In trying to think what today 'feels like', I ain't sure if there's anything from the past that likens....
Recess in 3rd grade on St. Pattys Day where you didn't wear green was horrid, but no, not as bad as this...
Maybe one discovering better half with a 'better' half? Sure, I bet painful, but still, you could spit at 'em....get closer'n 6 feet.
We have varying degrees of 'oh shit'. Some, glued forever'n a day to the easy chair, phone up the Piggly Wiggly to get the groceries delivered to the front porch... daring only to PRNDL thru the CVS for meds in one's BVD's.
Thenagain, some trump all, run, hug one another..scoff... no shoppy where ya gotta wear a mask... the media did it, in the library, with Chinese checkers.
I guess I'm somewhere 'tween. You?
I love the Amish, I do. I admire admire admire 'em. Different is ok to them. Maybe we're different. I can't help but think of the Amish though, when I walk in Wally World and see scores coming out the exit in their masks... Amishlike, kinda sorta.
Speakin' o masks... mebbe SOME good... one, we ain't gotta put up with another's halitosis... two, you gotta big ole zit the size of Mount Etna, it don't matter.
Three. You can 'cuss someone out' silently with your lips- and they'.ll never know it. Run into someone who you can't stand their guts? Lip to 'em, silently, "I can't stand your guts!".. We gotta make this fun - somehow.
One of my father's favorite whispers was "do you suffer much?" - which, when staring at his lips, he appeared to be saying "you S... O.... B.." Try it in the mirror. Uh huh! Well, with a mask, insteada miming 'do you suffer much', you can actually lip the "you S.... O... B" and they'll never know!
Can you imagine a dating site today? Hmmm...wonder if he/she has a huge snoz? Overbite? Scars? All of the above? Do you kiss thru fabric? Sit three seats apart at the movie theater? One in the front seat driving, your date in the back? I'd be lookin' for one resembling Olive Oil. Honey, can you pass me the salt?
We ain't six feet under, but mebbe six feet to the side is nearly as yucky.
A couple of weeks ago, I was tested for Covid. Negative, thanks. They stuck that dadgum thing so far up my nostril, I wondered if it sprang thru my scalp and I looked like Alfalfa?
Next to Sudoku, Golf, Miller Lite and naps - is people watching for me. Responses to Covid-19 are extreme.. Tepid in the aisles in the grocery store. I've actually turned around and walked to the next aisle to get past the slow poke camped in the veggy can goods section. People walk right past one another, stare, kinda like grade school.. "wonder if he/she has cooties?"
Sad it is to see the children. At school's end, my cousin's daughter (a kindergarten teacher) took goodie bags to the homes of her students. Some ran out and hugged, some, seeing her in her mask, took a fearful step back before finally agreeing to reach her extended hand to retrieve the goodies. Being a kid as a kid was tough enough - this is molasses and sand thrown on toppa that for the kiddos today.
Where do we go? What will tomorrow look like? Trying to foresee is like working on a 1,000 piece puzzle of nuttin' but blue sky. Blue skies, smilin' at me, howninthell tomorrow fits, beats the heck outta we.
Will we ever hear "Take me out to the Ballgame" again? And the home of the CHIEFS?... Can we watch the game and simulate 'the wave' on Zoom?
Obviously, this virus is not funny. Aside from the illnesses, deaths, the emotional and financial turmoil brew,. I think ya gotta throw a Dave Berry, George Carlin, David Letterman, Red Skelton mebbe even Allen Sherman in upon occasion so we can all remember what it feels like to laugh (even though with mask, we can't see it.)
Hello Muddah, hello Faddah,
Here I am at, Camp Corona..
Camp is very, entertaining,
And they say we'll have some fun when we stop quarantining
I went hiking, with Joe Spivey - he is sucha, big big giver..
He started sneezing, really badly, so bad I had to push him in the river.,..
You remember, Leonard Skinnard.
We all ran when he said he coudn't taste his dinner.
Now I don't want, this to skeerya,
But my roommate, bad case'a diarrhea..
You remember, Jeffrey Hardy,
Temp of 102 last night at the party.
Take me home oh Muddah Faddah,
Take me home, I hate Corona
Don't leave me out in the hills,
Where I might get, fever, cough and chills...
Take me home, I promise to wear my mask,
Do my chores, clean my room, any given task.
Oh please don't make me stay,
I've been here one whole day!
Dearest Faddah, darling Muddah,
How's my precious, little Bruddah?
Let me come home, if you miss me,
I would even let Aunt Bertha Kiss me (provided she wears her mask.)
Wait a minute, we stopped quarantining,
Fauci said we can all swim, we started singing
Playing baseball, social distancing, what better?
Muddah Faddah kindly disregard this letter.
By Henry Gibson,
Love, Victurd
Look what they've done to my World, Ma
See my beard? Ain't it weird?
Holy guacamole....
In trying to think what today 'feels like', I ain't sure if there's anything from the past that likens....
Recess in 3rd grade on St. Pattys Day where you didn't wear green was horrid, but no, not as bad as this...
Maybe one discovering better half with a 'better' half? Sure, I bet painful, but still, you could spit at 'em....get closer'n 6 feet.
We have varying degrees of 'oh shit'. Some, glued forever'n a day to the easy chair, phone up the Piggly Wiggly to get the groceries delivered to the front porch... daring only to PRNDL thru the CVS for meds in one's BVD's.
Thenagain, some trump all, run, hug one another..scoff... no shoppy where ya gotta wear a mask... the media did it, in the library, with Chinese checkers.
I guess I'm somewhere 'tween. You?
I love the Amish, I do. I admire admire admire 'em. Different is ok to them. Maybe we're different. I can't help but think of the Amish though, when I walk in Wally World and see scores coming out the exit in their masks... Amishlike, kinda sorta.
Speakin' o masks... mebbe SOME good... one, we ain't gotta put up with another's halitosis... two, you gotta big ole zit the size of Mount Etna, it don't matter.
Three. You can 'cuss someone out' silently with your lips- and they'.ll never know it. Run into someone who you can't stand their guts? Lip to 'em, silently, "I can't stand your guts!".. We gotta make this fun - somehow.
One of my father's favorite whispers was "do you suffer much?" - which, when staring at his lips, he appeared to be saying "you S... O.... B.." Try it in the mirror. Uh huh! Well, with a mask, insteada miming 'do you suffer much', you can actually lip the "you S.... O... B" and they'll never know!
Can you imagine a dating site today? Hmmm...wonder if he/she has a huge snoz? Overbite? Scars? All of the above? Do you kiss thru fabric? Sit three seats apart at the movie theater? One in the front seat driving, your date in the back? I'd be lookin' for one resembling Olive Oil. Honey, can you pass me the salt?
We ain't six feet under, but mebbe six feet to the side is nearly as yucky.
A couple of weeks ago, I was tested for Covid. Negative, thanks. They stuck that dadgum thing so far up my nostril, I wondered if it sprang thru my scalp and I looked like Alfalfa?
Next to Sudoku, Golf, Miller Lite and naps - is people watching for me. Responses to Covid-19 are extreme.. Tepid in the aisles in the grocery store. I've actually turned around and walked to the next aisle to get past the slow poke camped in the veggy can goods section. People walk right past one another, stare, kinda like grade school.. "wonder if he/she has cooties?"
Sad it is to see the children. At school's end, my cousin's daughter (a kindergarten teacher) took goodie bags to the homes of her students. Some ran out and hugged, some, seeing her in her mask, took a fearful step back before finally agreeing to reach her extended hand to retrieve the goodies. Being a kid as a kid was tough enough - this is molasses and sand thrown on toppa that for the kiddos today.
Where do we go? What will tomorrow look like? Trying to foresee is like working on a 1,000 piece puzzle of nuttin' but blue sky. Blue skies, smilin' at me, howninthell tomorrow fits, beats the heck outta we.
Will we ever hear "Take me out to the Ballgame" again? And the home of the CHIEFS?... Can we watch the game and simulate 'the wave' on Zoom?
Obviously, this virus is not funny. Aside from the illnesses, deaths, the emotional and financial turmoil brew,. I think ya gotta throw a Dave Berry, George Carlin, David Letterman, Red Skelton mebbe even Allen Sherman in upon occasion so we can all remember what it feels like to laugh (even though with mask, we can't see it.)
Hello Muddah, hello Faddah,
Here I am at, Camp Corona..
Camp is very, entertaining,
And they say we'll have some fun when we stop quarantining
I went hiking, with Joe Spivey - he is sucha, big big giver..
He started sneezing, really badly, so bad I had to push him in the river.,..
You remember, Leonard Skinnard.
We all ran when he said he coudn't taste his dinner.
Now I don't want, this to skeerya,
But my roommate, bad case'a diarrhea..
You remember, Jeffrey Hardy,
Temp of 102 last night at the party.
Take me home oh Muddah Faddah,
Take me home, I hate Corona
Don't leave me out in the hills,
Where I might get, fever, cough and chills...
Take me home, I promise to wear my mask,
Do my chores, clean my room, any given task.
Oh please don't make me stay,
I've been here one whole day!
Dearest Faddah, darling Muddah,
How's my precious, little Bruddah?
Let me come home, if you miss me,
I would even let Aunt Bertha Kiss me (provided she wears her mask.)
Wait a minute, we stopped quarantining,
Fauci said we can all swim, we started singing
Playing baseball, social distancing, what better?
Muddah Faddah kindly disregard this letter.
By Henry Gibson,
Love, Victurd
Monday, May 04, 2020
It's bad you know....
Color me a simpleton, but if you ever want rhythm, beat-inducing, dance-invoking music, take a listen to RL Burnside's "It's Bad You Know." It's kinda nonsensical, but sometimes, ain't life?
In our lifetime, I don't think it's ever been worse. Division. This side. That side. Half-truths like "they wouldn't vote to approve this, so now, the nuns will run outta food by late June." Like Herpes, that's passed on, and on, and on... The hatrid builds. People dig in, diss each Party leader. Tensions are at an all-time high, or, low, 'pending on howya look at it.
Skirmishes are happening with more an more frequency. Cops with shields. Tear gas sprayed about, simulating a water hose on a dogfight. The struggle, division, is real. It's bad you know.
But....
But... Victor, we've told you 99 times you can't start a sentence with "But". Oh yeah? Well watch me. I remember the time you told me I couldn't start a sentence with "I is", I voted to hell with you and wrote "I is the 9th letter of the alphabet, kiss my laptop."
But...
But... . once upon a time.. one era, at band camp.. Twas the night before something.... THINGS WERE WORSE. Or, at least this bad - even with the pandemic cherry-on-top.
Dexter was the biggest, baddest of all. He was from the East side, or, red, or blue, however you wanna perceive it. When he walked, folks got outta his way. Followers jumped in behind him, almost like baby ducklings.. There were no walls in these days, no social distancing, no stay at home edicts, no cops with shields or spray..... Gated communities, back then, were like today, rare and only for the extremely fortunate.
Dexter and his 'pack', would gallivant around town, looking for a skirmish, a melee, a battle.. There was no Facebook back then, but oh how were they socially vocal. So much so, it was painful to the ears, and no matter how one rotated the antenna, you still couldn't hear the whistle theme to Andy Griffith.
Rufas lived on the West side, or blue, or red, whichever, I forget. He too had his pack of hard guys. The land had become so divisive, it was like what you read about The Wild, Wild, West. Battles were frequent, beyond mere vocal argument, fights, literal pulling, tugging, pushing, jumping atop, hitting, biting - bullying was frequent. Ten would take on two from the other side. Bystanders would run, preferring to keep their little booties safe, out of it. 'Independents', so to speak.
This hatred, spite, no holds barred, reached a pinnacle. Community forums were held. This side wanted tighter rules, bigger penalties. The other side said stay the hell out of it, we want freedom for all.
So it continued. Dexter's Charlie, Vinny, Jake and Carlos, traveled over a mile to WWF-like beat the hell outta Rufas's 'soldiers' Ralph, George, Sam and Oliver.
Paybacks are hell, karma is a bitch - the following day Rufus himself showed up, along with patrons Maggie, Fred, Walter and Alvin -- the battle ensued, Dexter's Charlie had to go to the doc to get stitched up... Vinny lost three teeth..and it got worse, Carlos actually expired from his injuries and a burial was held.
The Comnunity, pins and needles. Forum after forum, unfortunately met by rally after rally. Fierce, fast pace battles continued. Tug-of-wars. Streets, alleys, garages, ballfields - viciousness continued. Where is our savior? Have we lost our sanity? How did we get here and howthehell do we go back to peacetime? Messiah? You out there?
At long last, legislation happened. The two sides agreed. Bipartisanship happened.
HOW? WHAT? TELL US?
OK...
The Leash Law was put into effect. Dexter's master secured the chainlink fence in back - and he lived to a ripe old age. Rufus slept inside in the kid's bed, became docile, and even behaved himself at the doggy park, where the leash law was temporarily lifted within the fenceline. He once even wagged his tail at Vinny and Jake, former Dexter stoolies, even shared a water bowl. Owners were astonished.
Back to today. 2020. Facebook is afire with alley, garage, ballfield skirmishes. Thank heaven the battles are only virtual. Loud, evil, pent up anger unleashed. Throwing water on it would only cause electrical malady.
We need a forum, or ten. A savior. A messiah. Bipartisanship. Socially, Valium for all? Or, mebbe a leash law?
May the 4th be with you,
Love, Victurd
In our lifetime, I don't think it's ever been worse. Division. This side. That side. Half-truths like "they wouldn't vote to approve this, so now, the nuns will run outta food by late June." Like Herpes, that's passed on, and on, and on... The hatrid builds. People dig in, diss each Party leader. Tensions are at an all-time high, or, low, 'pending on howya look at it.
Skirmishes are happening with more an more frequency. Cops with shields. Tear gas sprayed about, simulating a water hose on a dogfight. The struggle, division, is real. It's bad you know.
But....
But... Victor, we've told you 99 times you can't start a sentence with "But". Oh yeah? Well watch me. I remember the time you told me I couldn't start a sentence with "I is", I voted to hell with you and wrote "I is the 9th letter of the alphabet, kiss my laptop."
But...
But... . once upon a time.. one era, at band camp.. Twas the night before something.... THINGS WERE WORSE. Or, at least this bad - even with the pandemic cherry-on-top.
Dexter was the biggest, baddest of all. He was from the East side, or, red, or blue, however you wanna perceive it. When he walked, folks got outta his way. Followers jumped in behind him, almost like baby ducklings.. There were no walls in these days, no social distancing, no stay at home edicts, no cops with shields or spray..... Gated communities, back then, were like today, rare and only for the extremely fortunate.
Dexter and his 'pack', would gallivant around town, looking for a skirmish, a melee, a battle.. There was no Facebook back then, but oh how were they socially vocal. So much so, it was painful to the ears, and no matter how one rotated the antenna, you still couldn't hear the whistle theme to Andy Griffith.
Rufas lived on the West side, or blue, or red, whichever, I forget. He too had his pack of hard guys. The land had become so divisive, it was like what you read about The Wild, Wild, West. Battles were frequent, beyond mere vocal argument, fights, literal pulling, tugging, pushing, jumping atop, hitting, biting - bullying was frequent. Ten would take on two from the other side. Bystanders would run, preferring to keep their little booties safe, out of it. 'Independents', so to speak.
This hatred, spite, no holds barred, reached a pinnacle. Community forums were held. This side wanted tighter rules, bigger penalties. The other side said stay the hell out of it, we want freedom for all.
So it continued. Dexter's Charlie, Vinny, Jake and Carlos, traveled over a mile to WWF-like beat the hell outta Rufas's 'soldiers' Ralph, George, Sam and Oliver.
Paybacks are hell, karma is a bitch - the following day Rufus himself showed up, along with patrons Maggie, Fred, Walter and Alvin -- the battle ensued, Dexter's Charlie had to go to the doc to get stitched up... Vinny lost three teeth..and it got worse, Carlos actually expired from his injuries and a burial was held.
The Comnunity, pins and needles. Forum after forum, unfortunately met by rally after rally. Fierce, fast pace battles continued. Tug-of-wars. Streets, alleys, garages, ballfields - viciousness continued. Where is our savior? Have we lost our sanity? How did we get here and howthehell do we go back to peacetime? Messiah? You out there?
At long last, legislation happened. The two sides agreed. Bipartisanship happened.
HOW? WHAT? TELL US?
OK...
The Leash Law was put into effect. Dexter's master secured the chainlink fence in back - and he lived to a ripe old age. Rufus slept inside in the kid's bed, became docile, and even behaved himself at the doggy park, where the leash law was temporarily lifted within the fenceline. He once even wagged his tail at Vinny and Jake, former Dexter stoolies, even shared a water bowl. Owners were astonished.
Back to today. 2020. Facebook is afire with alley, garage, ballfield skirmishes. Thank heaven the battles are only virtual. Loud, evil, pent up anger unleashed. Throwing water on it would only cause electrical malady.
We need a forum, or ten. A savior. A messiah. Bipartisanship. Socially, Valium for all? Or, mebbe a leash law?
May the 4th be with you,
Love, Victurd
Sunday, April 26, 2020
You put the Lysol in the coconut and drink it all up.
Relax. Just kidding, kinda.
THIS IS NOT POLITICAL said 12,483,001 Republicans and 12,483,000 Democrats (See, toldya it was their fault.)
Fauci News.
Should I stay or should I go? Well, depends on your Governor, County, Mayor, Wife, Job
You can't touch this. Or this, or that, or this or that over there. Spray, wipe, glove on, glove off, hands washed. Repeat cycle. You no touchy me, not even an elbow bump? ALRIGHT? ZALRIGHT! Wow, people are getting touchy, so to speak.
Crazy, I agree Patsy. Time on one's hands. Grumpiness happens. Sure, so does more family good stuff. I'm talking visiting loved ones thru a window. Walking in the Piggly Wiggly, looking at the lady in the bread aisle coming your way, you smile, which really means "stay the hell away from me lady." You go for a McDouble and you wonder what the lady in the mask handing you your change really looks like.
Poor side of town. You sing it Johnny. Laid off. Stimulus helps, but will they send more after this runs out in two weeks? Can't pay the mortgage. Can't pay the rent. Insurance cancelled. Crapola. BRB, gonna go look behind, under sofa. "Honey? I found the remote."
Isn't she lovely? Yes Stevie, said you, and a kajillion others nine months from now. The heck else is there to do?
He did the Mash, it was the Monster Mash. What are you gonna be this Halloween we asked the Crypt Kickers. Oh, I dunno. I've got 67 masks in the dresser, lemme pick one out. Ouch, my ears hurt. I'm getting an itchy itchy rash. Sing it Claire.
They're gonna put me in the movies.. They're gonna make a big star out of me. They'll make a film about a man that's sad and lonely, and all I gotta do is act naturally. Very true Ringo. Netflix. Discovery Channel. History Channel. Local news, national news, Fauci news (CNN/FOX). Presidential addresses (Honey, can you hand me that remote?) I'm Ozarked, Lioned, Hanitty'd, Cooper'd out. I understand now why it's called a boob tube. I'm A boob.
Centerfield. Put me in coach, I'm ready to play today, put me in coach I'm ready to play today, look at me, I can be, Centerfield. Not in the damn living room you're not. Take your little booties out to the backyard to play, and NO, the Andersons can't come over and play with you.
Hello darkness my old friend, I've come to talk to you again. Lights are out in the seating areas of restaurants. Rush hour is now dawdle hour. There ain't no other cars. The sounds of silence. Hell, tain't no cups at the fountain drink area of QT. Drove my Chevy to the levee (and Macys, Penneys, Kohls, Best Buy, Mens Warehouse) but the levee was dry, them good ole boys were drinking whiskey and rye..... at home.
We don't need no education. We don't need no thought control. No dark sarcasm in the classroom. Teacher, leave them kids alone. Hey, teacher, leave them kids alone....If you don't eat yer meat, you can't have any pudding. How can you have any pudding if you don't eat your meat?
'Teachers', moms and dads everywhere: Bottle of wine, fruit of the vine, when you gonna let me get sober. Nevermind, this works.
No more pencils no more books, no more teacher dirty looks. Out for the summer. Out till fall. We might not come back at all. School's out, forever. Schools out for the summer. Which, brings us back to Bottle of wine, fruit of the vine.
When I'm stuck with a day that's gray, and lonely - I just stick out my chin, and grin, and say ohhhhhh, The Sun'll come out, TOMORROW, So ya gotta hang on till tomorrow. Come what may, tomorrow, tomorrow, I love ya tomorrow, you're always a day away! Optimism schnotptimism, cool it ya little ginger.
Mother do you think they'll drop the bomb? Mother do you think they'll like this song? Mother do you think they'll try to break my balls (HEY, I didn't write it, Roger Waters did!).. Ooh, ah, Mother should I build a wall? Mother should I run for President? Mother should I trust the Government? ..................... Hush now baby, baby, don't you cry. Mama's gonna keep you right here under her wing. She won't let you fly, but she might let you sing. Mama's gonna keep baby cozy and warm. Ooh baby, ooh baby, ooh baby - of course mama's gonna help you build the wall.
Not much beats music in a pandemic. Or wine. Or the fridge. Or Netflix. Or mask knitting. Or sleeping. Or Facebook.
You thought it was a joke. And so you laughed. You laughed when I had said that losing you (NORMALCY) would make me flip my lid, right?..... You know you laughed, I heard you laugh, you laughed and laughed and then you left, but now you know I'm utterly mad.. --------
They're coming to take me away ha ha, they're coming to take me away, they're coming to take me away ha ha.. to the happy home, they sit and smile and twiddle their thumbs and toes, to the looney bin with all you need, prescription drugs like thorazine and lithium - electric shock.
Crazy. We already did that Patsy.
Objects in the rear view mirror may seemingly go on forever, and ever.
Where's Tracy Chapman and Fast Car when you need her.
Gimme one reason to stay here...........
(This has been pretty stupid, sorry.. it's my first go at a pandemic)
Love, Victurd
THIS IS NOT POLITICAL said 12,483,001 Republicans and 12,483,000 Democrats (See, toldya it was their fault.)
Fauci News.
Should I stay or should I go? Well, depends on your Governor, County, Mayor, Wife, Job
You can't touch this. Or this, or that, or this or that over there. Spray, wipe, glove on, glove off, hands washed. Repeat cycle. You no touchy me, not even an elbow bump? ALRIGHT? ZALRIGHT! Wow, people are getting touchy, so to speak.
Crazy, I agree Patsy. Time on one's hands. Grumpiness happens. Sure, so does more family good stuff. I'm talking visiting loved ones thru a window. Walking in the Piggly Wiggly, looking at the lady in the bread aisle coming your way, you smile, which really means "stay the hell away from me lady." You go for a McDouble and you wonder what the lady in the mask handing you your change really looks like.
Poor side of town. You sing it Johnny. Laid off. Stimulus helps, but will they send more after this runs out in two weeks? Can't pay the mortgage. Can't pay the rent. Insurance cancelled. Crapola. BRB, gonna go look behind, under sofa. "Honey? I found the remote."
Isn't she lovely? Yes Stevie, said you, and a kajillion others nine months from now. The heck else is there to do?
He did the Mash, it was the Monster Mash. What are you gonna be this Halloween we asked the Crypt Kickers. Oh, I dunno. I've got 67 masks in the dresser, lemme pick one out. Ouch, my ears hurt. I'm getting an itchy itchy rash. Sing it Claire.
They're gonna put me in the movies.. They're gonna make a big star out of me. They'll make a film about a man that's sad and lonely, and all I gotta do is act naturally. Very true Ringo. Netflix. Discovery Channel. History Channel. Local news, national news, Fauci news (CNN/FOX). Presidential addresses (Honey, can you hand me that remote?) I'm Ozarked, Lioned, Hanitty'd, Cooper'd out. I understand now why it's called a boob tube. I'm A boob.
Centerfield. Put me in coach, I'm ready to play today, put me in coach I'm ready to play today, look at me, I can be, Centerfield. Not in the damn living room you're not. Take your little booties out to the backyard to play, and NO, the Andersons can't come over and play with you.
Hello darkness my old friend, I've come to talk to you again. Lights are out in the seating areas of restaurants. Rush hour is now dawdle hour. There ain't no other cars. The sounds of silence. Hell, tain't no cups at the fountain drink area of QT. Drove my Chevy to the levee (and Macys, Penneys, Kohls, Best Buy, Mens Warehouse) but the levee was dry, them good ole boys were drinking whiskey and rye..... at home.
We don't need no education. We don't need no thought control. No dark sarcasm in the classroom. Teacher, leave them kids alone. Hey, teacher, leave them kids alone....If you don't eat yer meat, you can't have any pudding. How can you have any pudding if you don't eat your meat?
'Teachers', moms and dads everywhere: Bottle of wine, fruit of the vine, when you gonna let me get sober. Nevermind, this works.
No more pencils no more books, no more teacher dirty looks. Out for the summer. Out till fall. We might not come back at all. School's out, forever. Schools out for the summer. Which, brings us back to Bottle of wine, fruit of the vine.
When I'm stuck with a day that's gray, and lonely - I just stick out my chin, and grin, and say ohhhhhh, The Sun'll come out, TOMORROW, So ya gotta hang on till tomorrow. Come what may, tomorrow, tomorrow, I love ya tomorrow, you're always a day away! Optimism schnotptimism, cool it ya little ginger.
Mother do you think they'll drop the bomb? Mother do you think they'll like this song? Mother do you think they'll try to break my balls (HEY, I didn't write it, Roger Waters did!).. Ooh, ah, Mother should I build a wall? Mother should I run for President? Mother should I trust the Government? ..................... Hush now baby, baby, don't you cry. Mama's gonna keep you right here under her wing. She won't let you fly, but she might let you sing. Mama's gonna keep baby cozy and warm. Ooh baby, ooh baby, ooh baby - of course mama's gonna help you build the wall.
Not much beats music in a pandemic. Or wine. Or the fridge. Or Netflix. Or mask knitting. Or sleeping. Or Facebook.
You thought it was a joke. And so you laughed. You laughed when I had said that losing you (NORMALCY) would make me flip my lid, right?..... You know you laughed, I heard you laugh, you laughed and laughed and then you left, but now you know I'm utterly mad.. --------
They're coming to take me away ha ha, they're coming to take me away, they're coming to take me away ha ha.. to the happy home, they sit and smile and twiddle their thumbs and toes, to the looney bin with all you need, prescription drugs like thorazine and lithium - electric shock.
Crazy. We already did that Patsy.
Objects in the rear view mirror may seemingly go on forever, and ever.
Where's Tracy Chapman and Fast Car when you need her.
Gimme one reason to stay here...........
(This has been pretty stupid, sorry.. it's my first go at a pandemic)
Love, Victurd
Tuesday, April 14, 2020
No party at the Club.......
Toppa the morning... I was on it. Early to bed (10-ish), early to rise (4-ish)...
The World News. You'll never guess what it was about,
The local news. I be smitten with a local anchor, and nope, not saying her name.
I have to work at 10:30am. Quick jaunt to Mickey D's (6am or so) for the same ole same ole way too many calories breakfast and coffee.
To the Piggly Wiggly parking lot, where I, and abuncha other old people, awaited the 7am opening so we could race our tennis ball walkers back to the Toilet Paper aisle to ensure we each got our 'limit 1' thingy of TP.
Life is good. A 12-pack.
To the checker. "Oh, you lucked out since you're so early." Yep. Before this conversation, I handed her a whole slew of keys (car, trunk, front door at golf course, apartment, and Club keys),, Attached to this key chain is my Piggly Wiggly miniature scan thingy so I can be sure to get my discount should an item be on sale -- as well as building up points for discounted petrol at the QT.
We said a few more niceties from our 6 foot away distance, I poked a hole on toppa onea the rolls to make it easier to carry - and off for home I go.
My son, no car at present, has an 8am appointment, I gotta grab him around 9, 9:30-ish, then be at the golf course at 10am to open for the day at 10:30.
Victor, this is all pretty boring. Does it get better? Mebbe.
I own two key chain/fob thingys to my car. One has alla the above items, the other simply has a key to the ignition, and a fob.
I pull inta home. Aren't ya gonna ask about the Club key? Victor, do you own a club? Be for real.
Last week, someone broke into my car. Somehow, it now will not lock. Eh, that's alright, but I would prefer they not get in and hot wire my car next time...…..soooooooooooooooooooo.
I bought a Club. A Club is a thing that attaches to your steering wheel. It's got two bent forklike things, you place them inside the steering wheel, pull, and it locks in place when it's been extended as far as it can. Oh, and it's got like a 3 foot arm attached which makes it a little difficult to turn the steering wheel in any direction. THERE AIN'T NO WAY TO MOVE THE CAR WITH THIS LOCKED ON THERE.
Sooooooooooooooo… I pull into apartment, I proudly snap, lock my new toy onto the steering wheel, thinking to myself "aha, take that u little bastas!"... I stick my finger back in the toilet paper thingy to carry and I head toward the apartment.
Uh oh. The Club.. THERE AIN'T NO WAY TO MOVE THE CAR WITH THIS LOCKED ON THERE. I ain't goin' no damnwhere. I laugh (years and years of gaffaw practice doing stupid stuff like this).. I think of who I can call.. There ain't no one that's gotta car where I can sit 6' away from them. I could walk to Piggly, but I'm old, it's two miles, and I don't wanna.
Call son. "Hey, you'll never guess what happened. You may have to have your mom come get you."
It's 8:00AM. I have no keys to the Club, I gotta be at work in two hours. Do I call the gal who works tonight to see if she can come in early to take my hours?
I panic. This is where I literally move in three different directions at one time. My old boss usedta term it "hey, you gotta nail in that one shoe?" as I rotated this way, that way, no certainty on where I'm going.
It's situations like this where I HATE to 'phone a friend'. It likens "HEY! CAN YOU COME HELP ME MOVE THIS SATURDAY?" Patooey,.
After 12 minutes of panic, I get my phone, happen to look down and see the Uber app. I look at the clock. Calculate time. To the outhouse by Willie Makeit. I look at how much Uber would be as if I had any other choice. I set up a ride with them. "Driver 15 minutes away, Michael with a GMC something or other." Crap, 15 minutes and I ain't gotta minute to spare.
Before I jump outta my car to get in his, I place my precious 12 pack of TP on the floor, hopefully hidden from anyone walking by my CAR THAT NO LONGER LOCKS.
I made it there and back. Got keys. Got Club off. TP was still in my unlocked car. Picked up son, and I'm gonna make it to work on time.
The only real reason I'm sharing this is that I recently did something similarly stupid (oh yeah, I dropped my dental partial on a snow packed parking lot, couldn't find it, went back to look the next day, snow plow had obliterated it. What usedta be about two inches long that firmly locked into my gum - was now, three damn small teeth, less than a halfa inch.) Where was I?
Oh yeah, the only reason I share. A friend named CJ had writing on the dental partial blog "Only you! Only you." So, why not share this?
From my Club to yours,
Love,
Victurd
The World News. You'll never guess what it was about,
The local news. I be smitten with a local anchor, and nope, not saying her name.
I have to work at 10:30am. Quick jaunt to Mickey D's (6am or so) for the same ole same ole way too many calories breakfast and coffee.
To the Piggly Wiggly parking lot, where I, and abuncha other old people, awaited the 7am opening so we could race our tennis ball walkers back to the Toilet Paper aisle to ensure we each got our 'limit 1' thingy of TP.
Life is good. A 12-pack.
To the checker. "Oh, you lucked out since you're so early." Yep. Before this conversation, I handed her a whole slew of keys (car, trunk, front door at golf course, apartment, and Club keys),, Attached to this key chain is my Piggly Wiggly miniature scan thingy so I can be sure to get my discount should an item be on sale -- as well as building up points for discounted petrol at the QT.
We said a few more niceties from our 6 foot away distance, I poked a hole on toppa onea the rolls to make it easier to carry - and off for home I go.
My son, no car at present, has an 8am appointment, I gotta grab him around 9, 9:30-ish, then be at the golf course at 10am to open for the day at 10:30.
Victor, this is all pretty boring. Does it get better? Mebbe.
I own two key chain/fob thingys to my car. One has alla the above items, the other simply has a key to the ignition, and a fob.
I pull inta home. Aren't ya gonna ask about the Club key? Victor, do you own a club? Be for real.
Last week, someone broke into my car. Somehow, it now will not lock. Eh, that's alright, but I would prefer they not get in and hot wire my car next time...…..soooooooooooooooooooo.
I bought a Club. A Club is a thing that attaches to your steering wheel. It's got two bent forklike things, you place them inside the steering wheel, pull, and it locks in place when it's been extended as far as it can. Oh, and it's got like a 3 foot arm attached which makes it a little difficult to turn the steering wheel in any direction. THERE AIN'T NO WAY TO MOVE THE CAR WITH THIS LOCKED ON THERE.
Sooooooooooooooo… I pull into apartment, I proudly snap, lock my new toy onto the steering wheel, thinking to myself "aha, take that u little bastas!"... I stick my finger back in the toilet paper thingy to carry and I head toward the apartment.
- Except. Except. I find I only have one of my two key thingys. Uh huh, the one with the fob and key to the ignition only. (The huge set with the Club key, apartment key, work key...is with the friendly chatty cashier lady at The Piggly Wiggly.) Eh, it's ok, I'll just drive to Piggly Wiggly and get my other set of keys.
Uh oh. The Club.. THERE AIN'T NO WAY TO MOVE THE CAR WITH THIS LOCKED ON THERE. I ain't goin' no damnwhere. I laugh (years and years of gaffaw practice doing stupid stuff like this).. I think of who I can call.. There ain't no one that's gotta car where I can sit 6' away from them. I could walk to Piggly, but I'm old, it's two miles, and I don't wanna.
Call son. "Hey, you'll never guess what happened. You may have to have your mom come get you."
It's 8:00AM. I have no keys to the Club, I gotta be at work in two hours. Do I call the gal who works tonight to see if she can come in early to take my hours?
I panic. This is where I literally move in three different directions at one time. My old boss usedta term it "hey, you gotta nail in that one shoe?" as I rotated this way, that way, no certainty on where I'm going.
It's situations like this where I HATE to 'phone a friend'. It likens "HEY! CAN YOU COME HELP ME MOVE THIS SATURDAY?" Patooey,.
After 12 minutes of panic, I get my phone, happen to look down and see the Uber app. I look at the clock. Calculate time. To the outhouse by Willie Makeit. I look at how much Uber would be as if I had any other choice. I set up a ride with them. "Driver 15 minutes away, Michael with a GMC something or other." Crap, 15 minutes and I ain't gotta minute to spare.
Before I jump outta my car to get in his, I place my precious 12 pack of TP on the floor, hopefully hidden from anyone walking by my CAR THAT NO LONGER LOCKS.
I made it there and back. Got keys. Got Club off. TP was still in my unlocked car. Picked up son, and I'm gonna make it to work on time.
The only real reason I'm sharing this is that I recently did something similarly stupid (oh yeah, I dropped my dental partial on a snow packed parking lot, couldn't find it, went back to look the next day, snow plow had obliterated it. What usedta be about two inches long that firmly locked into my gum - was now, three damn small teeth, less than a halfa inch.) Where was I?
Oh yeah, the only reason I share. A friend named CJ had writing on the dental partial blog "Only you! Only you." So, why not share this?
From my Club to yours,
Love,
Victurd
Monday, April 13, 2020
I've been in the write place....
My ex, I'm biased, but she's a very pretty one.. anyways, she usedta get mad when there was a catcall, or an uncomfortable stare her way... I remember telling her "The time to worry is when you no longer hear or see them."
No one has really said "why don't you write any more?"... Well, one did I guess.. point is, it doesn't matter - I enjoy writing and I probably won't stop. $50 laptop on Craigslist, yippee, you're stuck again!
What a weird time of life eh? I remember all the fun of my/our Senior year in High School... running track.. prom.. the graduation ceremony - truly memories to last a lifetime. For sure, worse things have happened - but I really feel for the kids that were denied that this year.
We are a nation of someone needing to grab the big damn zipper to adjoin the left and the right side. It seems though, it won't go into the slot...or, even if it does, it's fer sure some material is gonna make it stick halfway up, or, if it's zipped to the top it's guaranteed it will 'unravel' somewhere between the top and the bottom.
The Dems did it, in the Library, with a lead pipe, and the use of a media virus frenzy, diverting virus protection attention with impeachment and the idea of communism, in forcing quarantine for all.
The Donald did it, in the Kitchen, with the candlestick, when he did away with the pandemic department, naysayer on the magnitude of the virus.
Seems our eyes are focused on the wrong things. I win, you lose... you lose, I win.. I know I've allowed myself to get swept up in it.. for shame Victor.
Prayer instead. Follow guidelines, let's get back to some semblance of where we were.
Bizarre though. The happy: we see more folks out walking. Dogs are loving it. What usedta be one guy or gal walking the hound is now mom, dad, big brother, little sister, and sometimes a stroller thrown in. Families out playing in the yard. Happy. Forced mebbe, but at least recognized.
Not seeing extended family. Young worrying about old, not wanting to expose them. Old worrying about young, forwarding over dollar bills insteada hiding Easter eggs.
Zoom amongst family, co-workers, teams, etc. I keep looking in those squares for George Gobel, Charlie Weaver, Rose Marie or Paul Lynde.
No church. No sports. Those are kinda sorta wants, sure, needed, but really a want. Funerals. Damn. A need. How horrible.
A previous life where I was pretty easily bored, finds me 'to tears' bored. Jokes, memes about assured weight gain during all this stay at home time - I really have to admit, "it's time to eat (again)" is onea my favorite parts of the day now.
Empty shelves with missing TP, wipes, sanitizer, Lysol, thermometers, yada. And, drum roll, now missing, hair dye. When this is all over, the guys are gonna look like John, Paul, George and Ringo, and the gals are gonna have Big Hair (with grey lines)
The newspaper. Filled to the gills about coronavirus. I used to quickly turn the page when I saw a murder, car accident or similar.. now it's so rare to find, it's more like "Really? Where?"
Where do you fall in the Goofus and Gallant of "I've been sequestered, I even get my groceries delivered" and "I've really not changed my ways too much.".???
I'm Goofus. Go to Piggly Wiggly. Work at a golf course. I know, essential right? Article in paper today giving pro's (good exercise, no touch, carts sanitized after each use) and cons "what about the workers sanitizing the carts?".. Gulp.. Donald, Joe and I aren't wearing masks
I've got the runs...er, I mean I've got to run.
Play it safe. Do as I say not as I do.
Sorry this wasn't fun or clever. Victor, when were you ever funny or clever? Eh, right you are, right you are.
Take me out to the ballgame.....please?
By Henry Covid Gibson,
Love, Victurd
No one has really said "why don't you write any more?"... Well, one did I guess.. point is, it doesn't matter - I enjoy writing and I probably won't stop. $50 laptop on Craigslist, yippee, you're stuck again!
What a weird time of life eh? I remember all the fun of my/our Senior year in High School... running track.. prom.. the graduation ceremony - truly memories to last a lifetime. For sure, worse things have happened - but I really feel for the kids that were denied that this year.
We are a nation of someone needing to grab the big damn zipper to adjoin the left and the right side. It seems though, it won't go into the slot...or, even if it does, it's fer sure some material is gonna make it stick halfway up, or, if it's zipped to the top it's guaranteed it will 'unravel' somewhere between the top and the bottom.
The Dems did it, in the Library, with a lead pipe, and the use of a media virus frenzy, diverting virus protection attention with impeachment and the idea of communism, in forcing quarantine for all.
The Donald did it, in the Kitchen, with the candlestick, when he did away with the pandemic department, naysayer on the magnitude of the virus.
Zippety doo dah, zippety day, we need uniting but it'll get stuck halfway.
Seems our eyes are focused on the wrong things. I win, you lose... you lose, I win.. I know I've allowed myself to get swept up in it.. for shame Victor.
Prayer instead. Follow guidelines, let's get back to some semblance of where we were.
Bizarre though. The happy: we see more folks out walking. Dogs are loving it. What usedta be one guy or gal walking the hound is now mom, dad, big brother, little sister, and sometimes a stroller thrown in. Families out playing in the yard. Happy. Forced mebbe, but at least recognized.
Not seeing extended family. Young worrying about old, not wanting to expose them. Old worrying about young, forwarding over dollar bills insteada hiding Easter eggs.
Zoom amongst family, co-workers, teams, etc. I keep looking in those squares for George Gobel, Charlie Weaver, Rose Marie or Paul Lynde.
No church. No sports. Those are kinda sorta wants, sure, needed, but really a want. Funerals. Damn. A need. How horrible.
A previous life where I was pretty easily bored, finds me 'to tears' bored. Jokes, memes about assured weight gain during all this stay at home time - I really have to admit, "it's time to eat (again)" is onea my favorite parts of the day now.
Empty shelves with missing TP, wipes, sanitizer, Lysol, thermometers, yada. And, drum roll, now missing, hair dye. When this is all over, the guys are gonna look like John, Paul, George and Ringo, and the gals are gonna have Big Hair (with grey lines)
The newspaper. Filled to the gills about coronavirus. I used to quickly turn the page when I saw a murder, car accident or similar.. now it's so rare to find, it's more like "Really? Where?"
Where do you fall in the Goofus and Gallant of "I've been sequestered, I even get my groceries delivered" and "I've really not changed my ways too much.".???
I'm Goofus. Go to Piggly Wiggly. Work at a golf course. I know, essential right? Article in paper today giving pro's (good exercise, no touch, carts sanitized after each use) and cons "what about the workers sanitizing the carts?".. Gulp.. Donald, Joe and I aren't wearing masks
I've got the runs...er, I mean I've got to run.
Play it safe. Do as I say not as I do.
Sorry this wasn't fun or clever. Victor, when were you ever funny or clever? Eh, right you are, right you are.
Take me out to the ballgame.....please?
By Henry Covid Gibson,
Love, Victurd
Thursday, February 13, 2020
When you're weary, feeling small...
When tears are in your eyes, I'll dry them all (all)
I'm on your side, oh, when times get rough
And friends just can't be found
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down
1970. It was the best of times. Obviously, from the lyrics, for someone it was the worst of times. It's a song about helping a person in need. Sometimes that person is us. Sometimes it's a friend or a loved one.
When you're down and out
When you're on the street
When evening falls so hard
I will comfort you (ooo)
I'll take your part, oh, when darkness comes
And pain is all around
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down
When you're on the street
When evening falls so hard
I will comfort you (ooo)
I'll take your part, oh, when darkness comes
And pain is all around
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down
Paul Simon wrote the song, but insisted Art Garfunkel perform it. When asked, years later, why he didn't sing too.. he admitted, "ya know, I wish I would have!"
Who/what/how puts the YUM in your yumME? This could be about God. It could be a tale for our bestest friend. It could be simply, a self help thing.
Sail on silver girl
Sail on by
Your time has come to shine
All your dreams are on their way
See how they shine
Oh, if you need a friend
I'm sailing right behind
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will ease your mind
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will ease your mind
Sail on by
Your time has come to shine
All your dreams are on their way
See how they shine
Oh, if you need a friend
I'm sailing right behind
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will ease your mind
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will ease your mind
Due to the era, many thought the 'Silver Girl' was about a needle, or herion. Simon laughed at the thought - and admitted "no, it was in inside joke about my first wife. Right as she turned 30 she started getting Silver-grey hairs - started flipping out, so, I called her Silver Girl."
Similes... An arm around. A hand clasped. A dog pet. A cat a rubbin' agin'ya. The bright, vibrant eyes of a child anxiously awaiting your answer to a question of life they'd just asked.
Tears, and they eventually dry up. Times past, brought to the surface invoking smile. A chance meeting with a lifelong friend on 'the other side', who you've since waged 'war' in 73 comment posts about DT, Nancy, Money, Trade, Global warming, yada - AND, that chance meeting reminds you of the glue between you - and again, a smile is invoked.
Smiles. The best. Chocolate. What can't chocolate solve? Dinner at your favorite joint. You, the remote, no one else for a nice, calm, channel selfish evening. You, your buddy, nestled up, chillaxin', catching up on Netflix until the wee hour.
A photo album. An old yearbook. A phone call - to, or from. A simple "I love you" text to simply remind someone you love them.
A genuine compliment..
Ya know, a beer with a buddy ain't a bad thing either.
Stolen:
“You have to take the good with the bad, smile with the sad. love what you got, and remember what you had. Always forgive, but never forget, learn from your mistakes but never regret. People change, things go wrong, but just remember life goes on.”
The stepping stones mark the way. The long trudge uphill lends one a hella fun bike ride down it. Good follows bad. Love wipes out hate.
Garfunkel was quoted recently: “Well, here we are, years later, I’m still singing it from town to town, and it’s completely alive and fresh to me,” he said. “There is nothing dated, or any feeling of the past. I love doing it. Thank the Lord the feeling — the goose bumps — constantly checks in every time I do it.”
Goose bumps. Ya gotta love goose bumps.
Garfunkel was quoted recently: “Well, here we are, years later, I’m still singing it from town to town, and it’s completely alive and fresh to me,” he said. “There is nothing dated, or any feeling of the past. I love doing it. Thank the Lord the feeling — the goose bumps — constantly checks in every time I do it.”
Goose bumps. Ya gotta love goose bumps.
Down, struggle, depressed, upset, mad, I-give-up, tomorrow - I'll do that tomorrow.
All of the above, just a small piece of the wonderful, diverse, pie of life.
Peace out, so to speak.
Love, Victurd
Thursday, February 06, 2020
Now what?
Mercy me....
The anticipation. The preparation. The waiting, and s'more waiting.
Twas like a wedding. Two weeks of 'photographs', and hunnerd kajillion pictures that some will look at once, the two of you mebbe a hunnerd times. Then, the wedding itself.
Ring Bearer, Flower Girl... The tots in Mahomes, Kelce, Hill, Mahieu jerseys... The newborns in KC Chiefs Onesie-regalia....
Debit, Credit cards used, maxed out by many to get the latest popular threads. Ya don't wanna go to see the wedding (game) in an outfit (shirt) from 2012 do ya?
Pomp and Circumstance.. Groomsmen, Bridesmaids ushered in..(Players thru the tunnel).. Kickoffs, screens, runs up the middle, RPO's.. The Preacher man (Commentator(s)...
Half-time.. Singing, there's gotta be singing in a wedding (game.)
Finally then, the Commentator (preacher man) pronounces you Man and Wife (Super Bowl Champions of the World).. "I do" akin to "We Are". Kissing. Turn to face the crowd (camera).. S'more kissing, and hugging.
Glee. Bliss. More pics. S'more hugging.
The reception (parade). Alcohol flowed freely. Couples were coupled. The stars of the wedding (game/season) were applauded. Confetti.
People acted a fool, like... like the 'plumber' that climbed the tree. People shooting beers, pouring champagne down the mouths of others. Dancing, there's got to be dancing. Laughter, applause, at-a-boys. Happy abounds. Congrats too.
Integral parties taking turns at the microphone, easy to grasp some with no speech preparation, but all heartfelt and sincere.
We go home. We collapse. We sleep hella good. All the worry, "this will go wrong..that will happen" wiped away by a beautiful wedding (game.) That stress ache in your neck will lessen and lessen in the coming days.
Monogrammed napkins (game report newspapers, pennants, etc) stowed away to one day rehash, relive the experience.
Now what? We have been immersed in this wedding (game) for quite some time now. Kinda forget what regular ole regular is. Back in the swing of things, if I can remember what that is.
Life, gloriously, rolls on. Soon, robins will come to see us here in the Midwest. The color theme changes from "Red" to green. Shorts. Dig out those shorts. Put the long sleeves in the extra bedroom closet - we're moving on baby.
Baseball Ray. Oh boy oh boy oh boy! Mebbe 162 days (games) until another beautiful wedding?
50 years was a long time, kinda. The brain mebbe thinks along the same lines, the body performs not-so-much, a little more difficult to matriculate down the field now
Blessed thou - we've been blessed. Blessed too that the youth of today have witnessed these moments so they too can one day share with their children.
O'er the land of the free and the Mahomes of the CHIEFS!!
Oh yeah, I just remembered what regular ole regular, the swing of things is: I'm gonna take a nap!
Love, Victurd
The anticipation. The preparation. The waiting, and s'more waiting.
Twas like a wedding. Two weeks of 'photographs', and hunnerd kajillion pictures that some will look at once, the two of you mebbe a hunnerd times. Then, the wedding itself.
Ring Bearer, Flower Girl... The tots in Mahomes, Kelce, Hill, Mahieu jerseys... The newborns in KC Chiefs Onesie-regalia....
Debit, Credit cards used, maxed out by many to get the latest popular threads. Ya don't wanna go to see the wedding (game) in an outfit (shirt) from 2012 do ya?
Pomp and Circumstance.. Groomsmen, Bridesmaids ushered in..(Players thru the tunnel).. Kickoffs, screens, runs up the middle, RPO's.. The Preacher man (Commentator(s)...
Half-time.. Singing, there's gotta be singing in a wedding (game.)
Finally then, the Commentator (preacher man) pronounces you Man and Wife (Super Bowl Champions of the World).. "I do" akin to "We Are". Kissing. Turn to face the crowd (camera).. S'more kissing, and hugging.
Glee. Bliss. More pics. S'more hugging.
The reception (parade). Alcohol flowed freely. Couples were coupled. The stars of the wedding (game/season) were applauded. Confetti.
People acted a fool, like... like the 'plumber' that climbed the tree. People shooting beers, pouring champagne down the mouths of others. Dancing, there's got to be dancing. Laughter, applause, at-a-boys. Happy abounds. Congrats too.
Integral parties taking turns at the microphone, easy to grasp some with no speech preparation, but all heartfelt and sincere.
We go home. We collapse. We sleep hella good. All the worry, "this will go wrong..that will happen" wiped away by a beautiful wedding (game.) That stress ache in your neck will lessen and lessen in the coming days.
Monogrammed napkins (game report newspapers, pennants, etc) stowed away to one day rehash, relive the experience.
Now what? We have been immersed in this wedding (game) for quite some time now. Kinda forget what regular ole regular is. Back in the swing of things, if I can remember what that is.
Life, gloriously, rolls on. Soon, robins will come to see us here in the Midwest. The color theme changes from "Red" to green. Shorts. Dig out those shorts. Put the long sleeves in the extra bedroom closet - we're moving on baby.
Baseball Ray. Oh boy oh boy oh boy! Mebbe 162 days (games) until another beautiful wedding?
50 years was a long time, kinda. The brain mebbe thinks along the same lines, the body performs not-so-much, a little more difficult to matriculate down the field now
Blessed thou - we've been blessed. Blessed too that the youth of today have witnessed these moments so they too can one day share with their children.
O'er the land of the free and the Mahomes of the CHIEFS!!
Oh yeah, I just remembered what regular ole regular, the swing of things is: I'm gonna take a nap!
Love, Victurd
Friday, January 31, 2020
From the 3rd seat of the station wagon.....
Are we there yet, are we there yet mom, dad.. huh?
1963. Eleven years old. The Chiefs are coming to OUR TOWN! Mr. Toma transformed the fields from OK, to pristine. A thing of beauty. Even the practice fields. Goal posts were erected in Center Field of the baseball field at William Jewell for the kickers to use.
Hustle, bustle. Us kids, galore. The day and age when a Schwinn and leg muscles were all one needed to pedal up those dadgum big hills of William Jewell to Greene Stadium - this year, better known as GREEN Stadium. The day and age where an 11 year old could gallivant across town without mom or dad's accompaniment.
The heat. The sweat. The popping of pads. The thrill of Victor, the pounding of their feet. Good Lord these men are huge. "Can I have your autograph?" We didn't care if they needed to shower, gulp a Big Gulp... was Gatorade even a thing back then? We asked anyways, and 99 times outta a hunnerd the players (and coaches) obliged.
"Can I have your autograph Sir?"... Sure.. Oops, missed that guy, run up to the toppa the hill, "Can I have your autograph Sir?... Lemme see your page kid.. did.. see that right there? That's me.. You just got my autograph down there 3 minutes ago. Oops, sorry.
Living on a street across from William Jewell College was a thing of beauty. When the fanciest of fancy cars drove by, we ran to the curb to wave - as we just knew is was either Buck, Mike Garrett, Lenny, Bobby Bell, Willie - one of 'em.
Night time. 5 minutes before curfew - up the 25mph hill the fancy dancy cars would screech at speeds estimated at 60mph - simply so they wouldn't miss curfew - get fined.
My cousins would come from Fulton, MO and Jeff City, MO... We'd take blank page after blank page, with pens - and go hunt them suckers out. One cousin - he filled three pages with certainly more names than the 53 man roster held.. One small problem. He had a (wonderful, but smartaleck) cousin (my beautiful sister) who loved to 'fun'. Whilst we were out in the yard pretending to be Otis Taylor making one handed catches - of Lenny The Cool floating a long bomb - she was inside writing on my cousin's page.
50 plus years later - he showed me two of those three pages. Oh the names. EJ Holub, Curly Culp, Jonnie Robinson, Emmitt Thomas, Hank himself, even Lamar... THEN, he showed me the 3rd page with one autograph that really, really stood out. "Orville Footstink." My (now deceased) sister had done it. She got one of us again. When my cousin recently showed me the 3rd page with good ole Orville's name on it - I kinda got the feeling he'd changed his demeanor from upset 50 years ago, to "it's maybe my favorite autograph on the three pages" today.
The Super Bowl. Ha, they picked our Senior year... January 11, 1970. Champs of the World.
IT'S GONNA BE LIKE THIS EVERY YEAR!!!!!
Are we there yet mom, dad.. are we there?
Older now... in fact.. I was in the lovable old Corner Bar one night - ten or so of those big behemoths were in there too.. avoiding the 100 degree temps, replenishing their bods with perhaps the wrong kinda fluid to replenish -nonetheless, there they were - and we were glad they were.
Pete Beathard, QB, walked to the bar to get another beer. "Hey Pete?... Get me some peanuts." OK.. Did, and he got his beer. Was walking back.. "Just throw 'em!"... "Nope, someone would probably intercept 'em."
The longhorns on EJ Holubs car. Our dog Gabe, in the days before leash laws, EJ pounding away on the blocking sled, Gabe literally biting EJ in the butt as he did.. he'd hit the sled with his left shoulder and simultaneously attempt to flick Gabe off his buttocks with his right arm.
Racquetball in the old Brown Gym. They let the City kids come play for free. Knock on the door. We'd open. "Mr. Stram would like to play now." Gulp, OK. We're gone.
Then years and years and years of almost. Painful memories - perhaps none greater than that one year, Christmas Day, the longest game EVER in the NFL.
Mom? Dad? Are we there yet, are we there?
All the names. All the different 'used car' quarterbacks. Hand me downs from other teams. Ill conceived draft choices. Close, but never a cigar.
Much like the snotnoses (said lovingly) of today when the Royals won in 2015, "it's gonna be like this EVERY year!" Oops.
Are we there yet are we there?
BBQ. Expensive parking. Tossing the football around in the parking lot at Arrowhead. Thousands of us - all dressed up in Lanier, Bell, Lynch, Montana, Rison, Green, Holmes, Allen (Marcus or Jared), Shields, Lowery, Stenerud, Rudnay, Still, Cherry, Budde, Lewis, Smith, Thomas, Gonzalez, you name the jersey - we wore it.
We hate the Raiders (and the Broncos, and the Chargers). We have Red Friday. We put red dye in our fountains.
Are we there yet mom, huh, are we?
From Abdullah (Husain) thru Frank Zombo we've just about heard it all, seen it all. Three missed field goals. A QB scoring a touchdown on a pass from him to himself. 4 inches offsides.
Mom? Are we EVER gonna get there?
From the depths of 2012 and our 2 win, 14 loss season - something(s) changed.
Started with Clark cleaning the 'cabinets'. Brought in Big Red. (Thanks Philly... the hell were you thinking?)
Oh boy oh boy oh boy... No.. we can't. We can't get our hopes up again.. Remember? Didn't you learn ANYTHING in all those years? It ain't gonna happen. We're going to the grave with the "loved his 1969 World Champion Chiefs" inscription.
With the 10th pick in the 2017 draft, the Kansas City Chiefs select Patrick Mahomes II.
Be for real. Don't you remember Tony Adams? Bill Kenney? Steve Fuller? #1 pick Todd Blackledge? Bono, Grbac (Grrrrr) Croyle.
It's been a minute. MOM, it's been longer than that, are we EVER gonna get there?
Fast forward, as fast as moving 50 years later could be considered fast.
Welcome to Miami.
We've been knocked down, but we get up again, you're never gonna keep us down, we get knocked down, but we get up again, you're never gonna keep us down.
Ohhhh Danny boy...
Me thinks it's gonna happen. This is different. I doubted the Royals vs. Toronto, Houston. I was wrong. Please oh please don't lemme be wrong on this.
The pundits all seem to pick the 49'ers. (Got 'em right where we want em). "Just look at all those #1 draft choices on the defensive line, redwoods, all of 'em..... sure, Mahomes is awesome, but clearly the 49ers have the best team."
Go to bed Fred, we're Big Red, led by Big Red.
The two weeks from our last game, leading up to this has seemed like the month as a child once December hits until the morning we finally get to tear into the gifts under the tree.
Mom, dad? Are we there yet, are we there?
"We'll be there in two days.... it's a long trip to Miami."
That - is an understatement. It's a two generation drive. A Johnson to Nixon to Ford to Carter to Reagan to Bush to Clinton to Bush to Obama to Trump long drive.
The Kansas City Times is no more - but it's Kansas City's time.
Screw Blanda, Bilitnikoff, Big Ben, Elway, Kelly, Manning, and anyone else that kicked our booty.
We're now f'real.
My sister and I spent many a mile, many an hour in the back seats of those station wagons in the day. Dad drove so slow, REALLY slow.. ... if by the oft chance he actually passed a car, we gave him a standing ovation.
Sunday. Sunday. We're there. We're finally there.
50 years later, 100 million people will be watching. We're gonna pass the San Francisco 49'ers - Standing Ovation.
It's been a ride. A long, wonderful, occasionally miserable, ride.
Mom, dad? Are we there yet?
We are.
Ain't it great?
Love, Victurd
1963. Eleven years old. The Chiefs are coming to OUR TOWN! Mr. Toma transformed the fields from OK, to pristine. A thing of beauty. Even the practice fields. Goal posts were erected in Center Field of the baseball field at William Jewell for the kickers to use.
Hustle, bustle. Us kids, galore. The day and age when a Schwinn and leg muscles were all one needed to pedal up those dadgum big hills of William Jewell to Greene Stadium - this year, better known as GREEN Stadium. The day and age where an 11 year old could gallivant across town without mom or dad's accompaniment.
The heat. The sweat. The popping of pads. The thrill of Victor, the pounding of their feet. Good Lord these men are huge. "Can I have your autograph?" We didn't care if they needed to shower, gulp a Big Gulp... was Gatorade even a thing back then? We asked anyways, and 99 times outta a hunnerd the players (and coaches) obliged.
"Can I have your autograph Sir?"... Sure.. Oops, missed that guy, run up to the toppa the hill, "Can I have your autograph Sir?... Lemme see your page kid.. did.. see that right there? That's me.. You just got my autograph down there 3 minutes ago. Oops, sorry.
Living on a street across from William Jewell College was a thing of beauty. When the fanciest of fancy cars drove by, we ran to the curb to wave - as we just knew is was either Buck, Mike Garrett, Lenny, Bobby Bell, Willie - one of 'em.
Night time. 5 minutes before curfew - up the 25mph hill the fancy dancy cars would screech at speeds estimated at 60mph - simply so they wouldn't miss curfew - get fined.
My cousins would come from Fulton, MO and Jeff City, MO... We'd take blank page after blank page, with pens - and go hunt them suckers out. One cousin - he filled three pages with certainly more names than the 53 man roster held.. One small problem. He had a (wonderful, but smartaleck) cousin (my beautiful sister) who loved to 'fun'. Whilst we were out in the yard pretending to be Otis Taylor making one handed catches - of Lenny The Cool floating a long bomb - she was inside writing on my cousin's page.
50 plus years later - he showed me two of those three pages. Oh the names. EJ Holub, Curly Culp, Jonnie Robinson, Emmitt Thomas, Hank himself, even Lamar... THEN, he showed me the 3rd page with one autograph that really, really stood out. "Orville Footstink." My (now deceased) sister had done it. She got one of us again. When my cousin recently showed me the 3rd page with good ole Orville's name on it - I kinda got the feeling he'd changed his demeanor from upset 50 years ago, to "it's maybe my favorite autograph on the three pages" today.
The Super Bowl. Ha, they picked our Senior year... January 11, 1970. Champs of the World.
IT'S GONNA BE LIKE THIS EVERY YEAR!!!!!
Are we there yet mom, dad.. are we there?
Older now... in fact.. I was in the lovable old Corner Bar one night - ten or so of those big behemoths were in there too.. avoiding the 100 degree temps, replenishing their bods with perhaps the wrong kinda fluid to replenish -nonetheless, there they were - and we were glad they were.
Pete Beathard, QB, walked to the bar to get another beer. "Hey Pete?... Get me some peanuts." OK.. Did, and he got his beer. Was walking back.. "Just throw 'em!"... "Nope, someone would probably intercept 'em."
The longhorns on EJ Holubs car. Our dog Gabe, in the days before leash laws, EJ pounding away on the blocking sled, Gabe literally biting EJ in the butt as he did.. he'd hit the sled with his left shoulder and simultaneously attempt to flick Gabe off his buttocks with his right arm.
Racquetball in the old Brown Gym. They let the City kids come play for free. Knock on the door. We'd open. "Mr. Stram would like to play now." Gulp, OK. We're gone.
Then years and years and years of almost. Painful memories - perhaps none greater than that one year, Christmas Day, the longest game EVER in the NFL.
Mom? Dad? Are we there yet, are we there?
All the names. All the different 'used car' quarterbacks. Hand me downs from other teams. Ill conceived draft choices. Close, but never a cigar.
Much like the snotnoses (said lovingly) of today when the Royals won in 2015, "it's gonna be like this EVERY year!" Oops.
Are we there yet are we there?
BBQ. Expensive parking. Tossing the football around in the parking lot at Arrowhead. Thousands of us - all dressed up in Lanier, Bell, Lynch, Montana, Rison, Green, Holmes, Allen (Marcus or Jared), Shields, Lowery, Stenerud, Rudnay, Still, Cherry, Budde, Lewis, Smith, Thomas, Gonzalez, you name the jersey - we wore it.
We hate the Raiders (and the Broncos, and the Chargers). We have Red Friday. We put red dye in our fountains.
Are we there yet mom, huh, are we?
From Abdullah (Husain) thru Frank Zombo we've just about heard it all, seen it all. Three missed field goals. A QB scoring a touchdown on a pass from him to himself. 4 inches offsides.
Mom? Are we EVER gonna get there?
From the depths of 2012 and our 2 win, 14 loss season - something(s) changed.
Started with Clark cleaning the 'cabinets'. Brought in Big Red. (Thanks Philly... the hell were you thinking?)
Oh boy oh boy oh boy... No.. we can't. We can't get our hopes up again.. Remember? Didn't you learn ANYTHING in all those years? It ain't gonna happen. We're going to the grave with the "loved his 1969 World Champion Chiefs" inscription.
With the 10th pick in the 2017 draft, the Kansas City Chiefs select Patrick Mahomes II.
Be for real. Don't you remember Tony Adams? Bill Kenney? Steve Fuller? #1 pick Todd Blackledge? Bono, Grbac (Grrrrr) Croyle.
It's been a minute. MOM, it's been longer than that, are we EVER gonna get there?
Fast forward, as fast as moving 50 years later could be considered fast.
Welcome to Miami.
We've been knocked down, but we get up again, you're never gonna keep us down, we get knocked down, but we get up again, you're never gonna keep us down.
Ohhhh Danny boy...
Me thinks it's gonna happen. This is different. I doubted the Royals vs. Toronto, Houston. I was wrong. Please oh please don't lemme be wrong on this.
The pundits all seem to pick the 49'ers. (Got 'em right where we want em). "Just look at all those #1 draft choices on the defensive line, redwoods, all of 'em..... sure, Mahomes is awesome, but clearly the 49ers have the best team."
Go to bed Fred, we're Big Red, led by Big Red.
The two weeks from our last game, leading up to this has seemed like the month as a child once December hits until the morning we finally get to tear into the gifts under the tree.
Mom, dad? Are we there yet, are we there?
"We'll be there in two days.... it's a long trip to Miami."
That - is an understatement. It's a two generation drive. A Johnson to Nixon to Ford to Carter to Reagan to Bush to Clinton to Bush to Obama to Trump long drive.
The Kansas City Times is no more - but it's Kansas City's time.
Screw Blanda, Bilitnikoff, Big Ben, Elway, Kelly, Manning, and anyone else that kicked our booty.
We're now f'real.
My sister and I spent many a mile, many an hour in the back seats of those station wagons in the day. Dad drove so slow, REALLY slow.. ... if by the oft chance he actually passed a car, we gave him a standing ovation.
Sunday. Sunday. We're there. We're finally there.
50 years later, 100 million people will be watching. We're gonna pass the San Francisco 49'ers - Standing Ovation.
It's been a ride. A long, wonderful, occasionally miserable, ride.
Mom, dad? Are we there yet?
We are.
Ain't it great?
Love, Victurd
Thursday, January 30, 2020
Well I told you once and I told you twice....
But ya never listen to my advice
You don't try very hard to please me
With what you know it should be easy
Well this could be the last time
This could be the last time
Maybe the last time
I don't know
Oh no, oh no
The last time. Interesting concept. Saw the other day, it was asked "do you remember the last time in your life a neighbor kid knocked on your door and you went out to play?"
Was walking into the Community Center the other day... out walked a lady in not too great'a shape - walker, struggling. Just shoot me, my brain went to "I don't won't to be like that." Yeah I do, if there ain't no alternative. It's like the guy saying "I don't wanna live to be 90!".. Well, ask him when he's 89 years, 364 days old if he still feels the same way...
My ex father inlaw. Good man. Loved golf. Played the big courses. As he aged, he drove 10 miles to a smaller, par three course. For a time he drove the Interstate. Then, as eyes, reflexes became challenged, he drove there via the less traveled 2 lane highway - but, he was still going. He's gone now. I wonder if before he passed he remembered the last time he played?
I repeat myself, apologies, know I've told this - but (to me) pretty gripping. Long ago after divorce, toes dabbled into the dating game. Just shoot me again, figuring out women, there ain't no last time. That could be looked upon as a good thing, as we male piggies are very easy to figure out. Anyways, long about the 4th or 5th person I dated - I finally thought to ask "just what are you looking for?" This gal, way too young for me, was hella brighter than I. She told me, "Well.. I'm a nurse. One night I was working in the ER, a frail elderly lady was having severe cardiac issues. In fact, she coded three times and we were able to revive her. Each time, the doctor would go to the waiting room to visit/communicate with her elderly husband. She coded again. This time we couldn't save her. The doctor returned to the waiting room, relayed the sad news to the husband. Without so much as a word, he got up, went into the room where she lay with the sheet pulled over her. He pulled the sheet down, kissed her cheek - covered her back up and was on his way. THAT. That's what I want." Wow, some last time.
As one ages, the more one sees things we no longer can do, will do, want to do. Running, for me, is an example. Buying, enjoying a 2 story house is another. High risk investing.
Many in our family tree - gone. Remember the last time you saw them? Kinda makes one want to pay greater attention to every detail in life - particularly with family, loved ones, longtime friends.
'The A table'. Twas a group of good buds (I wasn't a 'member', but I recall seeing them and the fun they had.) They would gather at the same pub, same time, same day of the week - for years. Recently, one of The A Team was in Hospice. His last desire (last time) was to play shuffleboard "just one more time." They propped him up next to the table - and play he did with a smile as big as the Mississippi.
Another friend, her mom in hospice, helped her mother go/do many items on the bucket list. One 'last time' request was to ride a horse. Twas arranged. Twas filmed. Many helped her get on the horse. A last ride - with smile. Perty damn cool. Last times suck and are wonderful, if that makes sense.
We are reminded frequently "life is short, enjoy." Or, as Gwen Stefani said "Life is short and you've got to get the most out of it."
I ain'ts no preacher - but I would love love love to emulate the bright-eyed vibrancy of a small child the remainder of my life. See everything with awe. Remind me it's OK that the lady in line aheada ya at the grocery store with enough food in her cart to feed a football team - didn't offer to let you go in fronta her and purchase your loaf of bread. The times we're in a hurry and there's an even more elderly person infronta you at the checkout of a store - and they want to share one more little story with the clerk. Maybe they are in that "bright-eyed vibrant" (this could be the last time) ilk of their life? We can learn from it.
I beg Oh Lord to ne'er again "read way too dadgum much" into something seemingly incomplete a friend, loved one has said. Bounce it off these feathers, lemme smile, have wide eyes - and peek for the next nifty little diddy in life.
I'm rambling, sorry. Main point(s). Life IS fleeting. Last times DO happen. Don't sweat the small stuff (unless you have lice... or crabs.. sorry... kinda.. not really.)
A bit more hunched over. Running days behind me. No more 220+ yard golf drives. Still driving the Interstates - will try to remember to take it all in - as one day that will end. I do hereby promise to use that word love more. The words "I hate when...." less. And "it really bugs me when you...." less. Walk in the rain. Dig in the dirt, plant a flower. Fetch the colors of the sky with your eyes. See if you can count your smiles in a day until you reach fitty. Let things leak out like "you know, all my life I've really admired how you....." Yum. Bring it out. Shout it out. Smother others in happiness.
Don't be PO'ed you only hit a golf ball 180 yards, remember to know we're blessed in just being out there, able to still be simply playing, enjoying.
Bright eyed, bushy tailed, vibrant. Like a rock. No, that ain't it. Like a kid. Like a kid in awe of all life. I usedta love the heck outta teaching elementary PE. Those dudes would walk in quietly in the neat, straight line their teacher had arranged.. but their eyeballs were huge, as was their smile - as they soon knew we'd be going wild and crazy, having fun. Bright eyed, bushy tailed. Vibrant. Thanks kids for teaching ME how to live.
Well this could be the last time
This could be the last time
Maybe the last time
I don't know
Oh no, oh no
Love, Victurd
You don't try very hard to please me
With what you know it should be easy
Well this could be the last time
This could be the last time
Maybe the last time
I don't know
Oh no, oh no
The last time. Interesting concept. Saw the other day, it was asked "do you remember the last time in your life a neighbor kid knocked on your door and you went out to play?"
Was walking into the Community Center the other day... out walked a lady in not too great'a shape - walker, struggling. Just shoot me, my brain went to "I don't won't to be like that." Yeah I do, if there ain't no alternative. It's like the guy saying "I don't wanna live to be 90!".. Well, ask him when he's 89 years, 364 days old if he still feels the same way...
My ex father inlaw. Good man. Loved golf. Played the big courses. As he aged, he drove 10 miles to a smaller, par three course. For a time he drove the Interstate. Then, as eyes, reflexes became challenged, he drove there via the less traveled 2 lane highway - but, he was still going. He's gone now. I wonder if before he passed he remembered the last time he played?
I repeat myself, apologies, know I've told this - but (to me) pretty gripping. Long ago after divorce, toes dabbled into the dating game. Just shoot me again, figuring out women, there ain't no last time. That could be looked upon as a good thing, as we male piggies are very easy to figure out. Anyways, long about the 4th or 5th person I dated - I finally thought to ask "just what are you looking for?" This gal, way too young for me, was hella brighter than I. She told me, "Well.. I'm a nurse. One night I was working in the ER, a frail elderly lady was having severe cardiac issues. In fact, she coded three times and we were able to revive her. Each time, the doctor would go to the waiting room to visit/communicate with her elderly husband. She coded again. This time we couldn't save her. The doctor returned to the waiting room, relayed the sad news to the husband. Without so much as a word, he got up, went into the room where she lay with the sheet pulled over her. He pulled the sheet down, kissed her cheek - covered her back up and was on his way. THAT. That's what I want." Wow, some last time.
As one ages, the more one sees things we no longer can do, will do, want to do. Running, for me, is an example. Buying, enjoying a 2 story house is another. High risk investing.
Many in our family tree - gone. Remember the last time you saw them? Kinda makes one want to pay greater attention to every detail in life - particularly with family, loved ones, longtime friends.
'The A table'. Twas a group of good buds (I wasn't a 'member', but I recall seeing them and the fun they had.) They would gather at the same pub, same time, same day of the week - for years. Recently, one of The A Team was in Hospice. His last desire (last time) was to play shuffleboard "just one more time." They propped him up next to the table - and play he did with a smile as big as the Mississippi.
Another friend, her mom in hospice, helped her mother go/do many items on the bucket list. One 'last time' request was to ride a horse. Twas arranged. Twas filmed. Many helped her get on the horse. A last ride - with smile. Perty damn cool. Last times suck and are wonderful, if that makes sense.
We are reminded frequently "life is short, enjoy." Or, as Gwen Stefani said "Life is short and you've got to get the most out of it."
I ain'ts no preacher - but I would love love love to emulate the bright-eyed vibrancy of a small child the remainder of my life. See everything with awe. Remind me it's OK that the lady in line aheada ya at the grocery store with enough food in her cart to feed a football team - didn't offer to let you go in fronta her and purchase your loaf of bread. The times we're in a hurry and there's an even more elderly person infronta you at the checkout of a store - and they want to share one more little story with the clerk. Maybe they are in that "bright-eyed vibrant" (this could be the last time) ilk of their life? We can learn from it.
I beg Oh Lord to ne'er again "read way too dadgum much" into something seemingly incomplete a friend, loved one has said. Bounce it off these feathers, lemme smile, have wide eyes - and peek for the next nifty little diddy in life.
I'm rambling, sorry. Main point(s). Life IS fleeting. Last times DO happen. Don't sweat the small stuff (unless you have lice... or crabs.. sorry... kinda.. not really.)
A bit more hunched over. Running days behind me. No more 220+ yard golf drives. Still driving the Interstates - will try to remember to take it all in - as one day that will end. I do hereby promise to use that word love more. The words "I hate when...." less. And "it really bugs me when you...." less. Walk in the rain. Dig in the dirt, plant a flower. Fetch the colors of the sky with your eyes. See if you can count your smiles in a day until you reach fitty. Let things leak out like "you know, all my life I've really admired how you....." Yum. Bring it out. Shout it out. Smother others in happiness.
Don't be PO'ed you only hit a golf ball 180 yards, remember to know we're blessed in just being out there, able to still be simply playing, enjoying.
Bright eyed, bushy tailed, vibrant. Like a rock. No, that ain't it. Like a kid. Like a kid in awe of all life. I usedta love the heck outta teaching elementary PE. Those dudes would walk in quietly in the neat, straight line their teacher had arranged.. but their eyeballs were huge, as was their smile - as they soon knew we'd be going wild and crazy, having fun. Bright eyed, bushy tailed. Vibrant. Thanks kids for teaching ME how to live.
Well this could be the last time
This could be the last time
Maybe the last time
I don't know
Oh no, oh no
Love, Victurd
Tuesday, January 28, 2020
It's 5 O'Clock somewhere........
For whatever reason, the number 5 has popped up in my life hella times of late.
Five, to me, is interesting. High Five. Hawaii 5 Oh... Fab 5.
There be 5 appendages on a starfish. Ditto, on our appendages. Cept', one time, no not band camp, one time, fraternity house. We always had a Haunted House for Halloween. We usually charged admission and pinpointed some charity, like Goodwill, the Red Cross, or a keg of Olympia. One of our fraternity brothers, he, 6'6" tall, and with proper suit, shoulder pads, looked just like Herman Munster. Anyways, it was dark in the room where he was posted. He held a flashlight, and one by one as the kids would walk by, he'd shine the flashlight on his face, say "Count the toes", then shine the flashlight on his feet, and yep, NOT 5, but 6 toes on each foot. I'm sure there's a name for that, but I ain't got 5 minutes to dig for it. Anyways, the kids would scream and head for another room.
It's been like 5 months since I've blogged. My puter is sick. Will get to it one day, just as soon as I go on a diet and quit smoking. So, I be at Library. Gotta new card. I haven't been here in like 5 times 5 years. Last time I was here, I remember owing $2.17 on past dues. I figured, when I told 'em my name, got a new card, there'd be like $5 in interest added to the $2.17 I'd have to pay. Nope. All old records wiped out, life is good, party on.
So...logged on with my library card number (which does have a 5 in it).. Then, I guess because they were worried I was a robot, they had to text me a 5 digit number for me to then enter, so I can use the puter for 5 (times 12) minutes. While I was typing all that crap, Cricket texted me notifying they'd automatically withdrawn $50 for my bill. It usedta be $45. Every month, roughly 5 days before time to pay bill, phone would get slow as molasses. Finally called 'em, said "what gives?" They said something about bites, and I didn't have enough.. when I reached so-and-so bites, it would be slow. I asked "Well how much for unlimited?" $5 extra. See? 5's allover the damn place.
Five Man Electrical Band... Maroon 5.. The 5th Dimension.. The Dave Clark Five.. A perfect 5th is the most consonant harmony, and is the basis for most western tuning systems. Wiki told me that, I ain't got no idea what it means.
Five second rule on food on the floor. High Five, today, replaced by the fist bump. Wonder what'll be popular in 5 years?
Church's Fried Chicken. I know I've told this story, probably 5 times before - so apologies. Virtually daily, when I was working, I'd go to lunch and buy the same ole same ole meal from Church's. Cheerful guy with Spanish accent on the order speaker thingy, each time would lemme know the amount... "Faiy-oh-five." I giggled to myself silently each and every time he did this, cause it made me wonder why he could say the second 5, but not the first one.. ($5.05) like "Five-Oh-Five." Been about 5 years since I've been to that Church's.
The Olympics, symbolized by 5 interlocked rings. Basketball, 5 on 5. In the numbering of players, 1 thu 5, the Center is 5. If you guard someone close, they gotta get ridda the ball in 5 seconds. Baseball, it's the 3rd baseman who is 5. Hockey, major penalty 5 minutes. Little kids, on a trip of 3 hours, asking every 5 minutes "How much longer?" Deep breath, delay response 5 seconds, then tell em.
On the landline (remember those?) the 5 key on the tele is associated with the letters J, K & L. Most manual transmissions have 5 gears.
Interesting (to me anyways) thing happened this morning. Roughly 5 days a week, I swing thru Mickey D's, order the same ole same ole thing (OK damnit, count the calories, a Sausage Biscuit and a Sausage McMuffin, and a water.) "That'll be $2.71 sir." I roll to the window. One lady once told me "I recognize your voice now." Anyways, twas some dude this time, never seen him before. Handed him a $10, he gave me back $2 and the change, thus, he SHORTED me $5. Trying not to be the stereotypical grumpy old man, I immediately honked my horn, held the change and the receipt up, stared frantically. Hey, $5 is $5. Could not gain his attention, but lady who said she recognized my voice that one day, came to the window - I explained to her I was shorted $5. Quizzically, she pivoted to try to eyeball her manager. Manager lady came to the window, said something to new guy I'd never seen, he shook his head "NO".. she then punched something into the computer, then familiar lady came to the window and said "Would you mind pulling up into the reserved spot, she's going to count the drawer."
I thought this was pretty goofy, then I wondered what I woulda done had I been the manager. I am certain some people do this purposely so they'll have enough for a small flask of whiskey, but I hope I look honest, they know I come there all the time, yada.
So...I pull up. In my best 'don't be the stereotypical grumpy old fart' I practiced my defense on what to say if they come saying, "nope, drawer checked out, sorry." I would say, "I've lived in this darn (damn) town since 1952, I come to this darn (damn) Mickey D's 5 times a week, that's a lotta revenue, and you're going to wish (piss) it all away if you don't gimme my 5 dollars!" I'd already taken my blood pressure meds, but I was curious what it was at that point.
So............. I sit with my water, awaiting lady to walk up, bring my me biscuits AND $5, I would get outta their hair. Or, for the tussle we were gonna have should she say "Nope, sorry."
"You were right sir, the drawer was $5 long." Without saying "I knew that" I thought to myself "I knew that." She handed me the proper change, which included the $5 in question. She then walked away. In my sweetest, kindest, non-stereotypical old grumpy fart, sweet voice, I hollered out the window "HEY, what about my food?"
She came back, grabbed the ticket, soon fetched me the biscuits. Again, I don't know what I'da done had I been the manager. What struck me as weird, it took at least 7 or 8 minutes for them to count the drawer. As they did this, traffic in the drive thru lane was at a screeching halt. They had probably 5 other cash registers in there, but nope, this is the only one (I guess) they could use for the drive thru. I'm thinking, "those people in line are probably PO'ed... I'm kinda sorta getting thataway, I think if I were the manager I mighta simply dug $5 outta the drawer, taken the customer's word for it, apologized and kept the line flowing. I'm really not the stereotypical grumpy old fart, but I do remember practicing my "I'M NEVER COMING BACK HERE AGAIN" line had they not given me my 5 dolla's.
I gotta go. Library only gives ya 60 (5 times 12) minutes. I only got 5 left. I still gotta click save, then check my damn spelling.
Five finger discount. Five o-clock shadow. Five, six, pickup sticks. FIVE GOLDEN RINGS. Times up, I'll have this posted in 5.
Love, Victurd
Five, to me, is interesting. High Five. Hawaii 5 Oh... Fab 5.
There be 5 appendages on a starfish. Ditto, on our appendages. Cept', one time, no not band camp, one time, fraternity house. We always had a Haunted House for Halloween. We usually charged admission and pinpointed some charity, like Goodwill, the Red Cross, or a keg of Olympia. One of our fraternity brothers, he, 6'6" tall, and with proper suit, shoulder pads, looked just like Herman Munster. Anyways, it was dark in the room where he was posted. He held a flashlight, and one by one as the kids would walk by, he'd shine the flashlight on his face, say "Count the toes", then shine the flashlight on his feet, and yep, NOT 5, but 6 toes on each foot. I'm sure there's a name for that, but I ain't got 5 minutes to dig for it. Anyways, the kids would scream and head for another room.
It's been like 5 months since I've blogged. My puter is sick. Will get to it one day, just as soon as I go on a diet and quit smoking. So, I be at Library. Gotta new card. I haven't been here in like 5 times 5 years. Last time I was here, I remember owing $2.17 on past dues. I figured, when I told 'em my name, got a new card, there'd be like $5 in interest added to the $2.17 I'd have to pay. Nope. All old records wiped out, life is good, party on.
So...logged on with my library card number (which does have a 5 in it).. Then, I guess because they were worried I was a robot, they had to text me a 5 digit number for me to then enter, so I can use the puter for 5 (times 12) minutes. While I was typing all that crap, Cricket texted me notifying they'd automatically withdrawn $50 for my bill. It usedta be $45. Every month, roughly 5 days before time to pay bill, phone would get slow as molasses. Finally called 'em, said "what gives?" They said something about bites, and I didn't have enough.. when I reached so-and-so bites, it would be slow. I asked "Well how much for unlimited?" $5 extra. See? 5's allover the damn place.
Five Man Electrical Band... Maroon 5.. The 5th Dimension.. The Dave Clark Five.. A perfect 5th is the most consonant harmony, and is the basis for most western tuning systems. Wiki told me that, I ain't got no idea what it means.
Five second rule on food on the floor. High Five, today, replaced by the fist bump. Wonder what'll be popular in 5 years?
Church's Fried Chicken. I know I've told this story, probably 5 times before - so apologies. Virtually daily, when I was working, I'd go to lunch and buy the same ole same ole meal from Church's. Cheerful guy with Spanish accent on the order speaker thingy, each time would lemme know the amount... "Faiy-oh-five." I giggled to myself silently each and every time he did this, cause it made me wonder why he could say the second 5, but not the first one.. ($5.05) like "Five-Oh-Five." Been about 5 years since I've been to that Church's.
The Olympics, symbolized by 5 interlocked rings. Basketball, 5 on 5. In the numbering of players, 1 thu 5, the Center is 5. If you guard someone close, they gotta get ridda the ball in 5 seconds. Baseball, it's the 3rd baseman who is 5. Hockey, major penalty 5 minutes. Little kids, on a trip of 3 hours, asking every 5 minutes "How much longer?" Deep breath, delay response 5 seconds, then tell em.
On the landline (remember those?) the 5 key on the tele is associated with the letters J, K & L. Most manual transmissions have 5 gears.
Interesting (to me anyways) thing happened this morning. Roughly 5 days a week, I swing thru Mickey D's, order the same ole same ole thing (OK damnit, count the calories, a Sausage Biscuit and a Sausage McMuffin, and a water.) "That'll be $2.71 sir." I roll to the window. One lady once told me "I recognize your voice now." Anyways, twas some dude this time, never seen him before. Handed him a $10, he gave me back $2 and the change, thus, he SHORTED me $5. Trying not to be the stereotypical grumpy old man, I immediately honked my horn, held the change and the receipt up, stared frantically. Hey, $5 is $5. Could not gain his attention, but lady who said she recognized my voice that one day, came to the window - I explained to her I was shorted $5. Quizzically, she pivoted to try to eyeball her manager. Manager lady came to the window, said something to new guy I'd never seen, he shook his head "NO".. she then punched something into the computer, then familiar lady came to the window and said "Would you mind pulling up into the reserved spot, she's going to count the drawer."
I thought this was pretty goofy, then I wondered what I woulda done had I been the manager. I am certain some people do this purposely so they'll have enough for a small flask of whiskey, but I hope I look honest, they know I come there all the time, yada.
So...I pull up. In my best 'don't be the stereotypical grumpy old fart' I practiced my defense on what to say if they come saying, "nope, drawer checked out, sorry." I would say, "I've lived in this darn (damn) town since 1952, I come to this darn (damn) Mickey D's 5 times a week, that's a lotta revenue, and you're going to wish (piss) it all away if you don't gimme my 5 dollars!" I'd already taken my blood pressure meds, but I was curious what it was at that point.
So............. I sit with my water, awaiting lady to walk up, bring my me biscuits AND $5, I would get outta their hair. Or, for the tussle we were gonna have should she say "Nope, sorry."
"You were right sir, the drawer was $5 long." Without saying "I knew that" I thought to myself "I knew that." She handed me the proper change, which included the $5 in question. She then walked away. In my sweetest, kindest, non-stereotypical old grumpy fart, sweet voice, I hollered out the window "HEY, what about my food?"
She came back, grabbed the ticket, soon fetched me the biscuits. Again, I don't know what I'da done had I been the manager. What struck me as weird, it took at least 7 or 8 minutes for them to count the drawer. As they did this, traffic in the drive thru lane was at a screeching halt. They had probably 5 other cash registers in there, but nope, this is the only one (I guess) they could use for the drive thru. I'm thinking, "those people in line are probably PO'ed... I'm kinda sorta getting thataway, I think if I were the manager I mighta simply dug $5 outta the drawer, taken the customer's word for it, apologized and kept the line flowing. I'm really not the stereotypical grumpy old fart, but I do remember practicing my "I'M NEVER COMING BACK HERE AGAIN" line had they not given me my 5 dolla's.
I gotta go. Library only gives ya 60 (5 times 12) minutes. I only got 5 left. I still gotta click save, then check my damn spelling.
Five finger discount. Five o-clock shadow. Five, six, pickup sticks. FIVE GOLDEN RINGS. Times up, I'll have this posted in 5.
Love, Victurd
Wednesday, December 11, 2019
Extra Extra, Download All About It...
There is a God.. and we're wonderfully reminded daily.
That first ray of sunshine peeking thru the curtains.. The hound who sees your eyes opened, beating his tail in happiness as he knows food, fun, again ahead for another day.
The cat who has the very purrfect way to awaken you - rhythmic 'greetings' coupled with their tickling whiskers upon your cheeks, as if to say, "my damn bowl is empty again you slouch, feed me Seymore."
Ahhhh.. yet another day - thank you Lord.
Me? I like all of the above, plus one. The sound of the morning newspaper hitting the sidewalk is orgasmic to me. Excitement, thankful for a new day - with an eye tuned to reading all about yesterday.
Tradition. (As an aside, I Youtubed the whole dadgum soundtrack to Fiddler on The Roof recently. Yum. Tradition. Sunrise, sunset. If I were a rich man.)
The newspaper is family tradition here. Pretty sure it ends with me, but that's ok. One grandfather had a stint at the KC Star, another poured over the Sport's section to see what he'd missed, or, mebbe to relive, the St. Louis Cardinals game from the day before. My mother was the first paid employee of a local startup newspaper (The Liberty Shopper News). I've thrown a newspaper or 10,000 from my bike, car. I've seen, and contributed to, piles and piles of paper, not so neatly stacked on the floor.
Buddy 'o mine, he wrote music reviews for the Star. Good, hella good writer he is. While he'd magically review the mega stars that rode in, out of the Sprint Center, other venues - he kept a keen eye/pen on the local music scene, serving as a springboard to many.
Times change. In fact, they got ridda The TImes (the morning paper). Awhile back, ALL employees were forced to take two weeks of unpaid leave to keep the newspaper afloat. A couple years ago, my buddy was let go, NOT due to incompetency (he's the best writer I personally know) - but, due to changing of the times. There's still one music reviewer there, but gone are the stories on the local scene, replaced by syndicated articles that really ain't of much interest to me. From 'yes!' to 'meh.'
Where was I? Oh yeah, fondly remembering. If it tweren't for the newspaper, howintheheck could one start the BBQ grill a goin? Oh yeah, they came up with charcoal presoaked in lighter fluid, nevermind.
How could you sell a ballglove.. buy a bike.. learn about Henrietta and Earl Smith going to visit Edgar and Mable Jones last Saturday night - without, the newspaper?
Well.. I reckon Craigslist. Swap and Shop. Then there's Facebook for the Smith & Jones visit. Ohhhh we know many who broadcast their every move. Like you Victor? Bite me, may the ink from the waning days of the newspaper rub off onto your hands, so you'll then wipe your brow, only to get yeeeooouuuuwwwwccchhh eye irritation.
It is said, getting your news from the internet allows one to be the captain, the director, the editor - seek what you want, not what they want for you. Well, I do that too with the newspaper. Shooting on 39th street? Nuh uh, I flip past. Female lawyers forced to remove underwire bra's at the Courthouse because they set-off the metal detectors? Ok, I might read that one!
Gone are the classifieds. Gone are the box scores where ya usedta see if that rookie kept his 22 game hitting streak alive. "Night game", meaning you hadta wait until the next day to find out who won. Nuh uh, no more. We be, I want what I want, and I want it now.
I get it. I don't like it, but I get it.
In the short time I've sat here to compile this goofy blog, I've closed 7 pop-ups, clicked 4 times "I know, I know I don't have any protection installed to ward off malware, have u seen my bank balance of late?"
By the old age vested in me, I (nicely, mildly) grumped on a website dedicated to the folks of our city, about the ensuing headaches of making our entrance road from KC into our little suburb 6 lanes each way insteada 3 lanes. As I see it, we'll go from 3 lanes of really PO'ed folks, to 6 lanes of mildly irritated chums. Dude wrote in, "If you don't grow, change, you die." I rectum.
I got an email this morning from the KC Star, 'bragging' up how, on March something or other, they will have a spiffed up Friday paper, and an even spiffier Sunday paper. Oh, and btw, we're no longer going to have a hardcopy issue for Saturday, but it will be online.
So.. future Saturdays, if I don't hear the sound of the paper hitting the sidewalk, how will I know to say thanks to God for another day? Reckon I'll have to get a hound...or a cat. Lord knows women never stick around too long.
Damn weather, bursitis, Government. Back to Fiddler on the Roof. If I were a rich man. I coulda been. You hear that? I coulda been. Turn 'o the Century (1900'ish) our ancestors were THE biggest producers of buggies. Then that damn Henry Ford had to go and mess it up.
Tradition. Sunrise, sunset.
The Times, er, the Star, er, the Internet, are'a changin'. Don't stand in the way of regress, er, I mean progress.
Much written love, Victurd
That first ray of sunshine peeking thru the curtains.. The hound who sees your eyes opened, beating his tail in happiness as he knows food, fun, again ahead for another day.
The cat who has the very purrfect way to awaken you - rhythmic 'greetings' coupled with their tickling whiskers upon your cheeks, as if to say, "my damn bowl is empty again you slouch, feed me Seymore."
Ahhhh.. yet another day - thank you Lord.
Me? I like all of the above, plus one. The sound of the morning newspaper hitting the sidewalk is orgasmic to me. Excitement, thankful for a new day - with an eye tuned to reading all about yesterday.
Tradition. (As an aside, I Youtubed the whole dadgum soundtrack to Fiddler on The Roof recently. Yum. Tradition. Sunrise, sunset. If I were a rich man.)
The newspaper is family tradition here. Pretty sure it ends with me, but that's ok. One grandfather had a stint at the KC Star, another poured over the Sport's section to see what he'd missed, or, mebbe to relive, the St. Louis Cardinals game from the day before. My mother was the first paid employee of a local startup newspaper (The Liberty Shopper News). I've thrown a newspaper or 10,000 from my bike, car. I've seen, and contributed to, piles and piles of paper, not so neatly stacked on the floor.
Buddy 'o mine, he wrote music reviews for the Star. Good, hella good writer he is. While he'd magically review the mega stars that rode in, out of the Sprint Center, other venues - he kept a keen eye/pen on the local music scene, serving as a springboard to many.
Times change. In fact, they got ridda The TImes (the morning paper). Awhile back, ALL employees were forced to take two weeks of unpaid leave to keep the newspaper afloat. A couple years ago, my buddy was let go, NOT due to incompetency (he's the best writer I personally know) - but, due to changing of the times. There's still one music reviewer there, but gone are the stories on the local scene, replaced by syndicated articles that really ain't of much interest to me. From 'yes!' to 'meh.'
Where was I? Oh yeah, fondly remembering. If it tweren't for the newspaper, howintheheck could one start the BBQ grill a goin? Oh yeah, they came up with charcoal presoaked in lighter fluid, nevermind.
How could you sell a ballglove.. buy a bike.. learn about Henrietta and Earl Smith going to visit Edgar and Mable Jones last Saturday night - without, the newspaper?
Well.. I reckon Craigslist. Swap and Shop. Then there's Facebook for the Smith & Jones visit. Ohhhh we know many who broadcast their every move. Like you Victor? Bite me, may the ink from the waning days of the newspaper rub off onto your hands, so you'll then wipe your brow, only to get yeeeooouuuuwwwwccchhh eye irritation.
It is said, getting your news from the internet allows one to be the captain, the director, the editor - seek what you want, not what they want for you. Well, I do that too with the newspaper. Shooting on 39th street? Nuh uh, I flip past. Female lawyers forced to remove underwire bra's at the Courthouse because they set-off the metal detectors? Ok, I might read that one!
Gone are the classifieds. Gone are the box scores where ya usedta see if that rookie kept his 22 game hitting streak alive. "Night game", meaning you hadta wait until the next day to find out who won. Nuh uh, no more. We be, I want what I want, and I want it now.
I get it. I don't like it, but I get it.
In the short time I've sat here to compile this goofy blog, I've closed 7 pop-ups, clicked 4 times "I know, I know I don't have any protection installed to ward off malware, have u seen my bank balance of late?"
By the old age vested in me, I (nicely, mildly) grumped on a website dedicated to the folks of our city, about the ensuing headaches of making our entrance road from KC into our little suburb 6 lanes each way insteada 3 lanes. As I see it, we'll go from 3 lanes of really PO'ed folks, to 6 lanes of mildly irritated chums. Dude wrote in, "If you don't grow, change, you die." I rectum.
I got an email this morning from the KC Star, 'bragging' up how, on March something or other, they will have a spiffed up Friday paper, and an even spiffier Sunday paper. Oh, and btw, we're no longer going to have a hardcopy issue for Saturday, but it will be online.
So.. future Saturdays, if I don't hear the sound of the paper hitting the sidewalk, how will I know to say thanks to God for another day? Reckon I'll have to get a hound...or a cat. Lord knows women never stick around too long.
Damn weather, bursitis, Government. Back to Fiddler on the Roof. If I were a rich man. I coulda been. You hear that? I coulda been. Turn 'o the Century (1900'ish) our ancestors were THE biggest producers of buggies. Then that damn Henry Ford had to go and mess it up.
Tradition. Sunrise, sunset.
The Times, er, the Star, er, the Internet, are'a changin'. Don't stand in the way of regress, er, I mean progress.
Much written love, Victurd
Sunday, December 08, 2019
Life... and Hunger Games........
I woke up, hungry. This should not come as such a surprise, as I do that daily. Old age, a 'growing' prostate, and the urge to pee led me past the fridge to the john. Went there, did that.
Standing infronta the door to the fridge, little does one know how the impending 'selection(s)' liken, life and its selections.
This particular day, I've got a slight pain in the tonsil area, and old age, probable shrinking brain cells remind me, "I don't even know if I have tonsils." Ma, pa, sis, departed some years ago, and I ain't got the foggiest if I ever had 'em out.
Where was I? Oh yeah, standing infonta the fridge. Hungry. Half nekkid, reminding myself to either turn up the furnace or put more duds on. That decision is easy.
Today's recipe... a smoothie. With personal blender cup in hand, the door opened.. I already have an Advil kinda crunched up in the cup - what to add to it. This is where yum and yuck moments happen. Red grapes, yum. Mostly black bananas, yuck. Grapes, pulled off the vine, dozen or so, into the cup. Hiding behind the yuck bananas were some yum ones more recently purchased from the Piggly Wiggly. Halfa banana, the smoothie is coming right along.
Let's see, what else looks good? A splash of 2% milk.. a couple strawberries. I need to add 'cold'. Hurt tonsils, of whatever is bugging me there, needs cold. No ice cream, no ice.. halfa ice cream sandwich will haveta do.
This is the part where I wake up the entire apartment complex by starting my blender at 6:10am... "Sorry, doesn't take long." Hehe.. I owe 'em.
Smoothie made, transferred to a regular ole regular cup - blender cup mostly washed, "I promise I'll wash it out better later."
Mostly dressed, I punch a couple buttons and jualah - my 'new to me' car starts. I ain't never had onea them remote start thingys. This car also has a CD player, ain't never had onea them either. "Victor, they don't even put CD's cars nowadays." Run away Debbie Downer, far, far away.
Through Mikey D's for $2.71 worth of breakfast sandwiches please, and a water. "What size water sir?" "The biggest free one you can get", I offer. Right turn, left turn, right turn, I'm at the City Park. Straw inserted, Sausage Biscuit undraped, car angled the best direction to catch the sunlight - I toss the front section, the prophylactic ad they drape it in, and the front section Part 2 (with the obits) to the side - ahhhhh, the Sport's page.
Long ago... "How long ago Victor?" I thought I got ridda you Debbie.. I'm 67.. I was 5, you figure it out. Long ago, I grabbed a flexible plastic bowl from the kitchen, a tennis ball - and went out back to toss the ball offa the 4' high retaining wall we had. My first "glove" (the plastic bowl), my introduction to my love for sports... Sorry, just setting the picture.
So, simularly to the way I peered after opening the fridge to select, I perused the four artcles on the front section of the Sport's page. "Chiefs cornerback Ward: from wheelchair to NFL star" stuck out much like the red grapes did. yum. I'll read it first.
Damn. Rough upbringing. Dad split the scene soon after his birth. Gunshots abound in the area where he grew up. Multiple siblings in a small house. On the 10th of the month (food stamps issued) there would be as many as 19 folks fed by his mom, soon after, they all huddled around a space heater in the living room for warmth.
A nasty fall in 2nd grade left KC defensive back with a cancer scare - 6 months on crutches, followed by 6 more months in a wheelchair. Bouts with anxiety, depression, reactions to meds for same, at times, left him wanting to hurt himself, give up, quit, yada. His mom was the constant. It hasn't been an easy ride, he knows the ride (with bumps included) ain't over, and he has a fonder, more gracious impression of life.
WHAT? He's an NFL star. He can't be a regular person like you or me, this stuff should be easy. You know, like how smoothly the blender blades crunch thru my smoothie conglomeration.
Article two. The meaning of the bracelets, wristbands of QB Mahomes. Patrick Mahomes is of Hank Stram 'matriculate the ball down the field', a George Brett line drive in the gap, Tom Watson chipping in on 17 to win the British Open ilk. He took KC by storm and he ain't looked back.
It ain't gone to his head. I don't see how he has time for the 187 TV commercials he's in, let alone throwing extra post pattern passes to receivers after practice. He does though, and more. More as in the article this morning. He did not toot his own horn, say, "hey, come see what these wristbands are all about" - he was approached about them.
The first wristband is from the son of a coach at the colege he went to. The coach's son, at age 13, had a horrific accident in a golf cart...leaving him unable to walk or speak. Damn. His dad had gone into a Gamestop to buy his son the Madden 2020 game.. he noticed a poster on the wall of Mahomes (on the cover of the game) and there it was on Patrick's wrist, the wristband his son had given him. Damn.
The second wristband was given to him by a 16 yr old named Sophia. They'd met at Children's Mercy. Patrick followed her progress through two back surgeries to treat the rare cancer she had (only 200 per year diagnosed with this type.) Sophie and her mom were watching the Chiefs/Raiders, and I'll be darned if they didn't see him wearing the wristband. They froze screens where they could detect it, took pictures. Yum. Red grape, fresh banana, ice cream sandwich yum.
The third belonged to Whitney, a 10 year old. She was diagnosed with a tumor in her brain, diffuse intrinsic pontine glioma. Residents of St Joe MO, they went to a practice there this summer, was able to personally give him the wristband (adorned with "You got this!"), and yep, a month later, season opener, there was Patrick wearing her band.
WHAT? The reigning NFL MVP, with enough commercials you could spend two months watching on Youtube, soon to sign a new contract to give that Bezos guy a run for the same money, ACTUALLY cares? He could be onea those "Don't you know who I am" kinda people, but, but, he has a heart?
The third article was about the death (and life) of Tom Watson's wife Hilary. The courage she had. Tom pointed out, in her battle with cancer, "She was dying to live, not living to die" through the whole ordeal. The 'damn' moment Tom and Hilary were shopping and they got the phone call with the cancer diagnosis - Tom's immediate crying. She was a yummy person, witness her love of animals, people, and unmatched thirst for/of life. Tom, of course, related to the article's author how much he missed her. "I know what you mean", the writer replied. Writer had just lost his mother, Tom took the time to console, counsel him, urging him to embrace the memories:
"Because the memories which will always remain as they leave indelible marks on our souls which we will never forget. She's still there. She's still there in your mind. Abolutely she's still there. They never leave. Maybe they're not there physically, but mentally is just as important as physicallly sometimes."
WHAT? One of the faces on the Mount Rushmores of golf, crying in a supermarket? Struggling, like we do with death, grieving? Yep.
By this point, after reading three articles in the SPORTS section, it's 8:30am and I feel like I've run a wonderful, tearful highly emotional marathon.
The 4th article on the front page of the sports "Royals will look for 'value' signings during the MLB Winter meetings." Nah, not right now. It's not blackened bananas so I won't throw it out, but I'm going home to write now..
Because sports is also life. Just like openinging the fridge, choices. Yum, but also occasion yuck. Stepping out the front door daily, choices. Just because they have glossy photos, are emulated, live in the limelight - they too are human. Stuggle, know struggle in these hunger games of life.
FYI, crunch up Advil REAL good before putting in a smoothie, I didn't. Be sure to remove ALL the vine off the grapes as it don't taste very good. Stike the idea of adding an ice cream sandwich to the smoothie - as no matter how many apartment residents the damn loud blender awakens, it can't handle mutiliating the outer coating.
I love sports, for it's like life, or so it seems.
Sorry this was long. Like life, long is a good thing, but sometimes bloggers get carried away. Life is good, love it. Even you Debbie.
Love, Victurd
Standing infronta the door to the fridge, little does one know how the impending 'selection(s)' liken, life and its selections.
This particular day, I've got a slight pain in the tonsil area, and old age, probable shrinking brain cells remind me, "I don't even know if I have tonsils." Ma, pa, sis, departed some years ago, and I ain't got the foggiest if I ever had 'em out.
Where was I? Oh yeah, standing infonta the fridge. Hungry. Half nekkid, reminding myself to either turn up the furnace or put more duds on. That decision is easy.
Today's recipe... a smoothie. With personal blender cup in hand, the door opened.. I already have an Advil kinda crunched up in the cup - what to add to it. This is where yum and yuck moments happen. Red grapes, yum. Mostly black bananas, yuck. Grapes, pulled off the vine, dozen or so, into the cup. Hiding behind the yuck bananas were some yum ones more recently purchased from the Piggly Wiggly. Halfa banana, the smoothie is coming right along.
Let's see, what else looks good? A splash of 2% milk.. a couple strawberries. I need to add 'cold'. Hurt tonsils, of whatever is bugging me there, needs cold. No ice cream, no ice.. halfa ice cream sandwich will haveta do.
This is the part where I wake up the entire apartment complex by starting my blender at 6:10am... "Sorry, doesn't take long." Hehe.. I owe 'em.
Smoothie made, transferred to a regular ole regular cup - blender cup mostly washed, "I promise I'll wash it out better later."
Mostly dressed, I punch a couple buttons and jualah - my 'new to me' car starts. I ain't never had onea them remote start thingys. This car also has a CD player, ain't never had onea them either. "Victor, they don't even put CD's cars nowadays." Run away Debbie Downer, far, far away.
Through Mikey D's for $2.71 worth of breakfast sandwiches please, and a water. "What size water sir?" "The biggest free one you can get", I offer. Right turn, left turn, right turn, I'm at the City Park. Straw inserted, Sausage Biscuit undraped, car angled the best direction to catch the sunlight - I toss the front section, the prophylactic ad they drape it in, and the front section Part 2 (with the obits) to the side - ahhhhh, the Sport's page.
Long ago... "How long ago Victor?" I thought I got ridda you Debbie.. I'm 67.. I was 5, you figure it out. Long ago, I grabbed a flexible plastic bowl from the kitchen, a tennis ball - and went out back to toss the ball offa the 4' high retaining wall we had. My first "glove" (the plastic bowl), my introduction to my love for sports... Sorry, just setting the picture.
So, simularly to the way I peered after opening the fridge to select, I perused the four artcles on the front section of the Sport's page. "Chiefs cornerback Ward: from wheelchair to NFL star" stuck out much like the red grapes did. yum. I'll read it first.
Damn. Rough upbringing. Dad split the scene soon after his birth. Gunshots abound in the area where he grew up. Multiple siblings in a small house. On the 10th of the month (food stamps issued) there would be as many as 19 folks fed by his mom, soon after, they all huddled around a space heater in the living room for warmth.
A nasty fall in 2nd grade left KC defensive back with a cancer scare - 6 months on crutches, followed by 6 more months in a wheelchair. Bouts with anxiety, depression, reactions to meds for same, at times, left him wanting to hurt himself, give up, quit, yada. His mom was the constant. It hasn't been an easy ride, he knows the ride (with bumps included) ain't over, and he has a fonder, more gracious impression of life.
WHAT? He's an NFL star. He can't be a regular person like you or me, this stuff should be easy. You know, like how smoothly the blender blades crunch thru my smoothie conglomeration.
Article two. The meaning of the bracelets, wristbands of QB Mahomes. Patrick Mahomes is of Hank Stram 'matriculate the ball down the field', a George Brett line drive in the gap, Tom Watson chipping in on 17 to win the British Open ilk. He took KC by storm and he ain't looked back.
It ain't gone to his head. I don't see how he has time for the 187 TV commercials he's in, let alone throwing extra post pattern passes to receivers after practice. He does though, and more. More as in the article this morning. He did not toot his own horn, say, "hey, come see what these wristbands are all about" - he was approached about them.
The first wristband is from the son of a coach at the colege he went to. The coach's son, at age 13, had a horrific accident in a golf cart...leaving him unable to walk or speak. Damn. His dad had gone into a Gamestop to buy his son the Madden 2020 game.. he noticed a poster on the wall of Mahomes (on the cover of the game) and there it was on Patrick's wrist, the wristband his son had given him. Damn.
The second wristband was given to him by a 16 yr old named Sophia. They'd met at Children's Mercy. Patrick followed her progress through two back surgeries to treat the rare cancer she had (only 200 per year diagnosed with this type.) Sophie and her mom were watching the Chiefs/Raiders, and I'll be darned if they didn't see him wearing the wristband. They froze screens where they could detect it, took pictures. Yum. Red grape, fresh banana, ice cream sandwich yum.
The third belonged to Whitney, a 10 year old. She was diagnosed with a tumor in her brain, diffuse intrinsic pontine glioma. Residents of St Joe MO, they went to a practice there this summer, was able to personally give him the wristband (adorned with "You got this!"), and yep, a month later, season opener, there was Patrick wearing her band.
WHAT? The reigning NFL MVP, with enough commercials you could spend two months watching on Youtube, soon to sign a new contract to give that Bezos guy a run for the same money, ACTUALLY cares? He could be onea those "Don't you know who I am" kinda people, but, but, he has a heart?
The third article was about the death (and life) of Tom Watson's wife Hilary. The courage she had. Tom pointed out, in her battle with cancer, "She was dying to live, not living to die" through the whole ordeal. The 'damn' moment Tom and Hilary were shopping and they got the phone call with the cancer diagnosis - Tom's immediate crying. She was a yummy person, witness her love of animals, people, and unmatched thirst for/of life. Tom, of course, related to the article's author how much he missed her. "I know what you mean", the writer replied. Writer had just lost his mother, Tom took the time to console, counsel him, urging him to embrace the memories:
"Because the memories which will always remain as they leave indelible marks on our souls which we will never forget. She's still there. She's still there in your mind. Abolutely she's still there. They never leave. Maybe they're not there physically, but mentally is just as important as physicallly sometimes."
WHAT? One of the faces on the Mount Rushmores of golf, crying in a supermarket? Struggling, like we do with death, grieving? Yep.
By this point, after reading three articles in the SPORTS section, it's 8:30am and I feel like I've run a wonderful, tearful highly emotional marathon.
The 4th article on the front page of the sports "Royals will look for 'value' signings during the MLB Winter meetings." Nah, not right now. It's not blackened bananas so I won't throw it out, but I'm going home to write now..
Because sports is also life. Just like openinging the fridge, choices. Yum, but also occasion yuck. Stepping out the front door daily, choices. Just because they have glossy photos, are emulated, live in the limelight - they too are human. Stuggle, know struggle in these hunger games of life.
FYI, crunch up Advil REAL good before putting in a smoothie, I didn't. Be sure to remove ALL the vine off the grapes as it don't taste very good. Stike the idea of adding an ice cream sandwich to the smoothie - as no matter how many apartment residents the damn loud blender awakens, it can't handle mutiliating the outer coating.
I love sports, for it's like life, or so it seems.
Sorry this was long. Like life, long is a good thing, but sometimes bloggers get carried away. Life is good, love it. Even you Debbie.
Love, Victurd
Sunday, November 17, 2019
Grandma's hand.... A blog for the family of Velma Bertie (Hall) Collins.
Our mother, grandmother, great grandmother, great great grandmother recorded many a diddie in her Bible. It was given to her in 1940 by daughter Elva.. returned to Elva upon Grandma's death in 1976, and is now kept (for all family to see) by granddaughter Joyce in Liberty, MO.
Grandma was born June 6, 1899 in Callaway County, MO to Thomas David Hall (B April 14, 1867 in Hams Prairie, Callaway Co MO and Rosa Etta Rose ((B October 28, 1874 in Callaway County, MO. She married Arthur Loren Collins on December 23, 1916 in Fulton, Callaway County, MO...
Arthur and Bertie had three children:
Elva Francis Collins, B February 9, 1918 in Fulton, MO
Velma Pearl Collins, B March 17, 1921 in Steedman, MO
Nelda Lorene Collins, B September 1, 1927 in Fulton, MO.
Among Grandma's loves.. God, family, friends, cooking, Holidays, crossword puzzles, doing the right thing, going to downtown Fulton daily (they would let their dog Skip out a few minutes before, and Skip, before the days of leash laws, would walk to town and go lay down and 'reserve' their same ole same ole parking place for when they'd arrive), and of course, Arthur.
On Mother's Day, May 12th, 1940 she was given a Bible by her daughter Elva. Little known at the time, this Bible, in addition to the Old and the New Testaments, would include a virtual day to day recap of highlights until her death 36 years later, July 10, 1976...
In addition to circling, underscoring her favorites verses, the Ten Commandments, and of course studying the verses - she wrote personal items of interest, recordings of the day, in the margins, on the blank pages, on the maps of Jersulem, Palestine, the Dead Sea and the Sea of Galilee.
It is believed she studied this Bible often, witness her handwritten entry "66 Books, 1189 Chapters, 31,173 verses, 773,746 words, 3,586,460 letters."
She recorded items of recall that happened prior to the gift of the Bible in 1940, such as "Tornado hit Callaway County, May 8, 1927, really was severe", "Lyman Collins died in a car accident in July of 1926". Titanic sank on April14, 1912.
Of family: These guys (Son in laws) came around:
Clifford Early McDaniel, B August 30, 1917
Edward Colby (Bud) Schultze, B August 5, 1922
Glenn Read Davis, September 22, 1925
These fine son inlaws would all become adept bowlers, particularly every Christmas Eve after they married...
They hitched up: Elva & Cliff, July 13, 1940 in St. Louis, MO
Velma and Edward 'Bud' on August 30, 1941 in Camdenton, MO
Nelda and Glenn on March 21, 1946 in New Orleans, LA
(A little Birdy, not "Bertie", told me Velma and Bud eloped, along with cousin/best friends/best man/maid of honor, Earl and Eileen Studebaker - and finances were such they shared a motel room that night.. the beds separated by a clothsline with blankets strewn over!)
Grandchildren:
Roger Dale Davis, May 6, 1947
Joyce Elaine McDaniel, June 13, 1947
Vanda Kaye Schultze, June 22, 1947
Victor Kendal Schulze, October 13, 1952
Darrell Kent Davis, October 13, 1955
Kevin Clifford McDaniel, February 29, 1956..
Sooooooooo.. in roughly 44 days, the Collins's went from having no grandkids, to having three, one by each daughter!
And then, entries on GREAT grandchildren:
Valerie Kaye Adair, B December 8, 1968
Kimberly Diann Davis, B November 16, 1969
Alison Lea Davis, B April 17, 1972
Lisa Smithmier, B August 5, 1974
Vickie Frantz B May 11, 1974
Erin Smithmier B March 6, 1978
Amy Davis B December 1981
Adam Davis February 14, 1984
Tyler Allan Davis B March 22, 1985
Dru Schultze B July 3, 1985
Whitney Davis, B December 16 1987
Hilary Davis, B December 22nd, 1988
Katlyn McDaniel B March 20, 1990
This and that:
Arthur went to Hospital on August 9, 1969, came home August 22, 1969 (Heart attack)...
Dog bit me on July 21, 1971, had 5 stitches
Arthur's parents: Jerome Fletcher Collins was born in Tennessee on March 1, 1862.. (died August 27, 1946) and mother Ida Flora (Wright) Collins was born East of Fulton on July 2, 1864 (Died Dec 29, 1931)
The Lords Prayer is circled..
No date: Only 6 white Christmas's in the last 20 years... 1913 to 1915, deep snow on these
Vanda and "Corky" were married July 26, 1966...Valerie Adair walked at 8 months... Developed Diabetes at the age of 3 1/2 years.. Valerie had the measles on April 11, 1970..
Kimberly Davis walked at 8 months.. Could say Pop Paw plain at 11 months.. Kimberly says "Tootie" for Cookie at 1 year..
Valerie can read her book by memory at 2 years, 3 months and can say her prayers and many other things so cute.
Roger Davis and Lynn Oestrich married April 5, 1969 at Fulton, MO..
Joyce McDaniel and Steve Smithmier married June 19, 1971 in Kansas City, MO..
Vanda and Dick Frantz married November 10, 1972..
Alison Lea Davis born April 17, 1972
73 Degrees in Jeff City on December 25, 1971
Alison Davis can say all her ABC's at age 1 year, 11 months and sings "Jesus loves me this I know, for the Bible tells me so."
5 below zero January 5, 1972.
33 children here for Trick or Treat October, 1971.
I was in Warwick NY when Kevin was born in 1956.
Had 25 inches of snow there n March 20 of 1956.
Victor walked at 8 months.
Kevin had chicken pox in 1st grade.
MY PERSONAL FAVORITE ENTRY: Darrell Davis could dial his phone number (Rotary dial) at age 3 years, 9 months.
We went to Colorado Springs in October of 1956.
Lisa Smithmier born August 5, 1974.
Vickie Frantz born May 11, 1974.
Rained 22 days out of 30 days in June 1969.
Kimberly said "Eat, Eat, Eat" in Lane Meyer at age 10 months
(Mebbe my next to best favorite!) Alison Davis, our sweet little granddaughter told me "it was none of my business" when I asked her why she was in the sink in February 1975.!!!
83 degrees February 29, 1972
We sold 1404 Westminster in October of 1967 and moved to 212 W. 4th Street. Snowed on May 4, 1944. Christmas of 1969 was a white Christmas
Arthur went to work at Brick yard on Monday, October 20, 1924 and retired on April 28, 1961, was never laid off, not once in entire 36 and 1/2 years, and worked only twice on night shift, 3:30pm until midnight.
Our first freeze of 1965 was on November 13, yet it never killed florwers or castor beans, zero never hit all winter until January 28, 1966
Coldest in 25 years, 11 below zero on January 1, 1968.
Had only 3 inches of snow all winter in 1966 and 1967, hit zero twice.
Elva drove to Warwick, NY on Tuesday, February 21, 1967. Darrell Davis, Kevin McDaniel and I accompanied her.. we went to NYC on Saturday, to West Point on Easter Sunday March 26, also to Middletown to see Hospital where Kevin was born. Returned home Thursday, March 29, 1967.
Went to Hospital August 8, 1967, returned home August 18, 1967.
Roger's address in Viet Nam 1968: Sgt Roger D. Davis, US 56588124, Co, D. 11st Bn 36 Inf, 198 Inf Bde. A.P.O. San Francisco, CA 96219. Januery 1968 until February 1969.
Roger married Linda Pinkerton June 4th, 1984...
There is/was much, much more handwritten in the Bible. Names, birthdates, death dates of family members before us.. more tidbits about snow, heat, cold..visits from so and so, visits to so and so.. and so much more.
Grandma passed on July 10, 1976. Arthur (Grandpa) passed shortly after, January 11, 1977. Doctors said heart issues. We surmise, broken heart. Ends are never good. In this case, beginning to end was wonderful.
Grandma was born June 6, 1899 in Callaway County, MO to Thomas David Hall (B April 14, 1867 in Hams Prairie, Callaway Co MO and Rosa Etta Rose ((B October 28, 1874 in Callaway County, MO. She married Arthur Loren Collins on December 23, 1916 in Fulton, Callaway County, MO...
Arthur and Bertie had three children:
Elva Francis Collins, B February 9, 1918 in Fulton, MO
Velma Pearl Collins, B March 17, 1921 in Steedman, MO
Nelda Lorene Collins, B September 1, 1927 in Fulton, MO.
Among Grandma's loves.. God, family, friends, cooking, Holidays, crossword puzzles, doing the right thing, going to downtown Fulton daily (they would let their dog Skip out a few minutes before, and Skip, before the days of leash laws, would walk to town and go lay down and 'reserve' their same ole same ole parking place for when they'd arrive), and of course, Arthur.
On Mother's Day, May 12th, 1940 she was given a Bible by her daughter Elva. Little known at the time, this Bible, in addition to the Old and the New Testaments, would include a virtual day to day recap of highlights until her death 36 years later, July 10, 1976...
In addition to circling, underscoring her favorites verses, the Ten Commandments, and of course studying the verses - she wrote personal items of interest, recordings of the day, in the margins, on the blank pages, on the maps of Jersulem, Palestine, the Dead Sea and the Sea of Galilee.
It is believed she studied this Bible often, witness her handwritten entry "66 Books, 1189 Chapters, 31,173 verses, 773,746 words, 3,586,460 letters."
She recorded items of recall that happened prior to the gift of the Bible in 1940, such as "Tornado hit Callaway County, May 8, 1927, really was severe", "Lyman Collins died in a car accident in July of 1926". Titanic sank on April14, 1912.
Of family: These guys (Son in laws) came around:
Clifford Early McDaniel, B August 30, 1917
Edward Colby (Bud) Schultze, B August 5, 1922
Glenn Read Davis, September 22, 1925
These fine son inlaws would all become adept bowlers, particularly every Christmas Eve after they married...
They hitched up: Elva & Cliff, July 13, 1940 in St. Louis, MO
Velma and Edward 'Bud' on August 30, 1941 in Camdenton, MO
Nelda and Glenn on March 21, 1946 in New Orleans, LA
(A little Birdy, not "Bertie", told me Velma and Bud eloped, along with cousin/best friends/best man/maid of honor, Earl and Eileen Studebaker - and finances were such they shared a motel room that night.. the beds separated by a clothsline with blankets strewn over!)
Grandchildren:
Roger Dale Davis, May 6, 1947
Joyce Elaine McDaniel, June 13, 1947
Vanda Kaye Schultze, June 22, 1947
Victor Kendal Schulze, October 13, 1952
Darrell Kent Davis, October 13, 1955
Kevin Clifford McDaniel, February 29, 1956..
Sooooooooo.. in roughly 44 days, the Collins's went from having no grandkids, to having three, one by each daughter!
And then, entries on GREAT grandchildren:
Valerie Kaye Adair, B December 8, 1968
Kimberly Diann Davis, B November 16, 1969
Alison Lea Davis, B April 17, 1972
Lisa Smithmier, B August 5, 1974
Vickie Frantz B May 11, 1974
Erin Smithmier B March 6, 1978
Amy Davis B December 1981
Adam Davis February 14, 1984
Tyler Allan Davis B March 22, 1985
Dru Schultze B July 3, 1985
Whitney Davis, B December 16 1987
Hilary Davis, B December 22nd, 1988
Katlyn McDaniel B March 20, 1990
This and that:
Arthur went to Hospital on August 9, 1969, came home August 22, 1969 (Heart attack)...
Dog bit me on July 21, 1971, had 5 stitches
Arthur's parents: Jerome Fletcher Collins was born in Tennessee on March 1, 1862.. (died August 27, 1946) and mother Ida Flora (Wright) Collins was born East of Fulton on July 2, 1864 (Died Dec 29, 1931)
The Lords Prayer is circled..
No date: Only 6 white Christmas's in the last 20 years... 1913 to 1915, deep snow on these
Vanda and "Corky" were married July 26, 1966...Valerie Adair walked at 8 months... Developed Diabetes at the age of 3 1/2 years.. Valerie had the measles on April 11, 1970..
Kimberly Davis walked at 8 months.. Could say Pop Paw plain at 11 months.. Kimberly says "Tootie" for Cookie at 1 year..
Valerie can read her book by memory at 2 years, 3 months and can say her prayers and many other things so cute.
Roger Davis and Lynn Oestrich married April 5, 1969 at Fulton, MO..
Joyce McDaniel and Steve Smithmier married June 19, 1971 in Kansas City, MO..
Vanda and Dick Frantz married November 10, 1972..
Alison Lea Davis born April 17, 1972
73 Degrees in Jeff City on December 25, 1971
Alison Davis can say all her ABC's at age 1 year, 11 months and sings "Jesus loves me this I know, for the Bible tells me so."
5 below zero January 5, 1972.
33 children here for Trick or Treat October, 1971.
I was in Warwick NY when Kevin was born in 1956.
Had 25 inches of snow there n March 20 of 1956.
Victor walked at 8 months.
Kevin had chicken pox in 1st grade.
MY PERSONAL FAVORITE ENTRY: Darrell Davis could dial his phone number (Rotary dial) at age 3 years, 9 months.
We went to Colorado Springs in October of 1956.
Lisa Smithmier born August 5, 1974.
Vickie Frantz born May 11, 1974.
Rained 22 days out of 30 days in June 1969.
Kimberly said "Eat, Eat, Eat" in Lane Meyer at age 10 months
(Mebbe my next to best favorite!) Alison Davis, our sweet little granddaughter told me "it was none of my business" when I asked her why she was in the sink in February 1975.!!!
83 degrees February 29, 1972
We sold 1404 Westminster in October of 1967 and moved to 212 W. 4th Street. Snowed on May 4, 1944. Christmas of 1969 was a white Christmas
Arthur went to work at Brick yard on Monday, October 20, 1924 and retired on April 28, 1961, was never laid off, not once in entire 36 and 1/2 years, and worked only twice on night shift, 3:30pm until midnight.
Our first freeze of 1965 was on November 13, yet it never killed florwers or castor beans, zero never hit all winter until January 28, 1966
Coldest in 25 years, 11 below zero on January 1, 1968.
Had only 3 inches of snow all winter in 1966 and 1967, hit zero twice.
Elva drove to Warwick, NY on Tuesday, February 21, 1967. Darrell Davis, Kevin McDaniel and I accompanied her.. we went to NYC on Saturday, to West Point on Easter Sunday March 26, also to Middletown to see Hospital where Kevin was born. Returned home Thursday, March 29, 1967.
Went to Hospital August 8, 1967, returned home August 18, 1967.
Roger's address in Viet Nam 1968: Sgt Roger D. Davis, US 56588124, Co, D. 11st Bn 36 Inf, 198 Inf Bde. A.P.O. San Francisco, CA 96219. Januery 1968 until February 1969.
Roger married Linda Pinkerton June 4th, 1984...
There is/was much, much more handwritten in the Bible. Names, birthdates, death dates of family members before us.. more tidbits about snow, heat, cold..visits from so and so, visits to so and so.. and so much more.
Grandma passed on July 10, 1976. Arthur (Grandpa) passed shortly after, January 11, 1977. Doctors said heart issues. We surmise, broken heart. Ends are never good. In this case, beginning to end was wonderful.
Thursday, November 14, 2019
Life has learnt me..........
People are nice. Darn nice. Ya ever get in onea them "mad at the world" moods and someone comes along and sprinkles dadgum niceties allover the place? Uh huh, me too. Thank God for them.
Gingers are hardheaded. And blondes. And Brunettes.
Laughter helps. Laughing at one's self helps s'more. Having a friend who does something you can laugh at him/her for is THE BEST. Well, mebbe second place to great sex. Sorry. Kinda. Not really.
For every Mick Jagger 'Please allow me to introduce myself', it takes the other lads singing "doo - doo... doo-doo" to make it work. Same with Blue Suede's Hooked on a Feeling's "Ooga-chaka-ooga-chaka, Ooga-chaka-ooga-chaka, Ooga-chaka-ooga-chaka, Ooga-chaka-ooga-chaka." If there were no batboys, there'd be wood allover the damn field. Can a female be a mailman? If so, which restroom would they go into at Mickey D's?
Righty tighty ain't nuttin' without Lefty Loosey. Odds are 50% u plug the USB cord in the right way the first time.. the coin lands on heads.. you get divorced.. Ha. You can't live in Tahiti and sing "Baby it's cold outside." You can't gain warmth if you only rub one hand (although I do have a first cousin who can clap with one hand. Honest. It's quite entertaining.
If you live in Barrow, Alaska, from November 18 until January 22nd you can't blame darkness on her or the song "Ain't no sunshine when she's gone."
Right field. I am a lover of right field. As in, coming out of right field. Abby Normal. Imagine food with no spice.. Twinkies with no gooey junk.. a BL sandwich.. or a PB sandwich. (Actually, never was a fan of PBJ sandwiches.. PB and Banana, hell to the yes, but not PBJ. Band camp, basketball road trips long ago, when players were eager but meal money was meager - we had THE MOST hideous PB&J sandwiches. Patooey.)
Right field is where we parked after softball. We'd play for two hours, then spend four hours laughing, making fun of one another, letting the kids run so they'd go to bed at 8pm, have a few beers and enjoy the heck outta life and each other.
Cold makes one appreciate warm. So does a $1 mini bottle of Hot Damn.
God purposely plants some people in your life, I know He does. There was an older guy I worked with for years. Ya know the type of person, that no matter when you see 'em, they smile and it in turn makes you happy? That was him. Yeah, was. He's gone, but reminders abound. He gave me a Tony Gonzales Chief's jersey of the most different color Gold ya ever seen. Boo koo times I've worn in it public and it always brings a complement.
The other day, yep, the freezing day, furnace went out. 3am. Electricity, most, was out. This is where you promise to please not tell anyone how stupid I am. PROMISE? Thanks to my son, we found the damn fuse box. Only the outlets in the kitchen worked. In fact, the fridge light was the only damn light in the house that worked. My son had flipped all the fuses (two rows, 6 on top, 6 on bottom) one direction. I flipped 'em the other way to see if that would help. Nope, fridge light out, so, went back and flipped them the other way - yep, fridge light on. Furnace, all else, nuh uh.
Apartment maintenance dude came around 9:30-ish - showed me "you have half the switches wrong.. the top ones go up and the bottom ones go down." About that time, the damn furnace came on. Remember, you said you wouldn't tell. Well that was nice but we still didn't have any lights. "Gotta go to City to get a breaker, OK if I come back tomorrow?" Uh huh. He did. Put the new breaker in the box outside the house, barged in the door smiling, only to have his smile defrocked when he saw the damn lights were still out. Turns out, he replaced the breaker in Apartment #1 and I live in Apartment #2. The fact he be stupid too kinda made me feel better.
Sooooooooooooooooooooooo...... for two days I lived with 16' extension cords allover the damn house. Today, as I undid them, pushed, pulled everything back in place (including this computer/computer desk I'm using now), a wooden MU Christmas ornament was somehow on the floor. Uh huh, same old dude, my beloved buddy Leon, had given to me years ago. There is a God and he placed Leon in my life. Toes, smile, heart, warm now.
We are all, can be, grumpy. Which brings us back to those two things - best friends and sex. It's a wunnferful cycle ain't it?
This has nothing to do with that.. but I thought of it, so fingers moved. Family Fued. I ain't vomited in quite awhile, but whenever one of the team members shouts an answer and the 5 remaining family members, in unison, shout "GOOD ANSWER CHARLIE" I wanna vomit. Once, JUST once, I'd love to hear the guy shout his answer, and the 5 remaining family members chime in "Charlie you are a friggin' idiot, that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard." Better ratings I bet.
I recently had a beloved family member living with me. Forty-two consecutive times I got up to go somewhere (pee, to put my coat on, to grab a Coke, yada) this beloved family member asked "Where ya going?" Solved that on time number 43.. "Where ya goin?" Crazy. I'm going crazy.
In my life time, work, play, yada, for years I've been around a few, only a few, folks that don't/won't/can't have fun. I usedta just think "Eh, that's the way it is." Now, I wouldn't care if they fell in the urinal and never surfaced - but then again, mebbe God planted them also so you'd have an example not to follow.
I'm rambling so I'd better go. Just had to type/write because I'm hooked on this feeling. Ooga-chaka-ooga-chaka, Ooga-chaka-ooga-chaka, Ooga-chaka-ooga-chaka, Ooga-chaka-ooga-chaka.
Love... because it beats the alternative, and some folks can't do that - so, we needs to love.. and have fun. And laugh at yourself. And Charlie and his stupid answer. And love, like God and Leon demonstrate.
Victurd
Gingers are hardheaded. And blondes. And Brunettes.
Laughter helps. Laughing at one's self helps s'more. Having a friend who does something you can laugh at him/her for is THE BEST. Well, mebbe second place to great sex. Sorry. Kinda. Not really.
For every Mick Jagger 'Please allow me to introduce myself', it takes the other lads singing "doo - doo... doo-doo" to make it work. Same with Blue Suede's Hooked on a Feeling's "Ooga-chaka-ooga-chaka, Ooga-chaka-ooga-chaka, Ooga-chaka-ooga-chaka, Ooga-chaka-ooga-chaka." If there were no batboys, there'd be wood allover the damn field. Can a female be a mailman? If so, which restroom would they go into at Mickey D's?
Righty tighty ain't nuttin' without Lefty Loosey. Odds are 50% u plug the USB cord in the right way the first time.. the coin lands on heads.. you get divorced.. Ha. You can't live in Tahiti and sing "Baby it's cold outside." You can't gain warmth if you only rub one hand (although I do have a first cousin who can clap with one hand. Honest. It's quite entertaining.
If you live in Barrow, Alaska, from November 18 until January 22nd you can't blame darkness on her or the song "Ain't no sunshine when she's gone."
Right field. I am a lover of right field. As in, coming out of right field. Abby Normal. Imagine food with no spice.. Twinkies with no gooey junk.. a BL sandwich.. or a PB sandwich. (Actually, never was a fan of PBJ sandwiches.. PB and Banana, hell to the yes, but not PBJ. Band camp, basketball road trips long ago, when players were eager but meal money was meager - we had THE MOST hideous PB&J sandwiches. Patooey.)
Right field is where we parked after softball. We'd play for two hours, then spend four hours laughing, making fun of one another, letting the kids run so they'd go to bed at 8pm, have a few beers and enjoy the heck outta life and each other.
Cold makes one appreciate warm. So does a $1 mini bottle of Hot Damn.
God purposely plants some people in your life, I know He does. There was an older guy I worked with for years. Ya know the type of person, that no matter when you see 'em, they smile and it in turn makes you happy? That was him. Yeah, was. He's gone, but reminders abound. He gave me a Tony Gonzales Chief's jersey of the most different color Gold ya ever seen. Boo koo times I've worn in it public and it always brings a complement.
The other day, yep, the freezing day, furnace went out. 3am. Electricity, most, was out. This is where you promise to please not tell anyone how stupid I am. PROMISE? Thanks to my son, we found the damn fuse box. Only the outlets in the kitchen worked. In fact, the fridge light was the only damn light in the house that worked. My son had flipped all the fuses (two rows, 6 on top, 6 on bottom) one direction. I flipped 'em the other way to see if that would help. Nope, fridge light out, so, went back and flipped them the other way - yep, fridge light on. Furnace, all else, nuh uh.
Apartment maintenance dude came around 9:30-ish - showed me "you have half the switches wrong.. the top ones go up and the bottom ones go down." About that time, the damn furnace came on. Remember, you said you wouldn't tell. Well that was nice but we still didn't have any lights. "Gotta go to City to get a breaker, OK if I come back tomorrow?" Uh huh. He did. Put the new breaker in the box outside the house, barged in the door smiling, only to have his smile defrocked when he saw the damn lights were still out. Turns out, he replaced the breaker in Apartment #1 and I live in Apartment #2. The fact he be stupid too kinda made me feel better.
Sooooooooooooooooooooooo...... for two days I lived with 16' extension cords allover the damn house. Today, as I undid them, pushed, pulled everything back in place (including this computer/computer desk I'm using now), a wooden MU Christmas ornament was somehow on the floor. Uh huh, same old dude, my beloved buddy Leon, had given to me years ago. There is a God and he placed Leon in my life. Toes, smile, heart, warm now.
We are all, can be, grumpy. Which brings us back to those two things - best friends and sex. It's a wunnferful cycle ain't it?
This has nothing to do with that.. but I thought of it, so fingers moved. Family Fued. I ain't vomited in quite awhile, but whenever one of the team members shouts an answer and the 5 remaining family members, in unison, shout "GOOD ANSWER CHARLIE" I wanna vomit. Once, JUST once, I'd love to hear the guy shout his answer, and the 5 remaining family members chime in "Charlie you are a friggin' idiot, that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard." Better ratings I bet.
I recently had a beloved family member living with me. Forty-two consecutive times I got up to go somewhere (pee, to put my coat on, to grab a Coke, yada) this beloved family member asked "Where ya going?" Solved that on time number 43.. "Where ya goin?" Crazy. I'm going crazy.
In my life time, work, play, yada, for years I've been around a few, only a few, folks that don't/won't/can't have fun. I usedta just think "Eh, that's the way it is." Now, I wouldn't care if they fell in the urinal and never surfaced - but then again, mebbe God planted them also so you'd have an example not to follow.
I'm rambling so I'd better go. Just had to type/write because I'm hooked on this feeling. Ooga-chaka-ooga-chaka, Ooga-chaka-ooga-chaka, Ooga-chaka-ooga-chaka, Ooga-chaka-ooga-chaka.
Love... because it beats the alternative, and some folks can't do that - so, we needs to love.. and have fun. And laugh at yourself. And Charlie and his stupid answer. And love, like God and Leon demonstrate.
Victurd
Saturday, November 09, 2019
I'm gonna wait 'til the midnight hour........
Went to WallyWorld.. Son living with me part-time, wanted soda pop... OK, can do. Like any trip there, interesting people.. Blinders on, "go straight to soda pop aisle, get the hell out" took me right past the Milk Duds... oh ok..can do... then damn if they didn't have rotisserie chickies on sale for $4.50... oh ok... Finally, pop loaded in cart. like any trip to WallyWorld, $7 intention turned into $13 checkout.
To/fro, I worried, searched, dreaded not finding a writing topic. The two mile or so trek home included like 34 lane changes due to construction, folks planted on the white lines w/turn signals on, begging to get over. Red Rover red rover, bring your Chevy on over, but perty please don't take all day..
Where was I? Oh yeah.. weaving, bobbing, driving, braking, greenlighting, redlighting...what scenery - I'm too busy trying to figure out which lane I should be in on this road I've driven for 51 years. Victor, you gripe too much.. Where was I?
Oh yeah, thinking of junk to write about. It was then, just then, as I traversed up the hill to The Square I saw the most beautiful lady I've seen in at least four hours... awaiting the line outside at a breakfast joint.. so... what's a pig to do? He drives around the Square, back down the hill.. makes a left turn, and traverses the road where the pretty lady was standing. I ain't waiting on the midnight hour any longer.
I know I know I ain't dead.. and I know I know I have hopefully some more trips around the sun... but what the hey ya know?
Much hasn't changed, but age has changed me. Uh huh, the bod takes it's toll, so why not accentuate the positive of aging?. Whilst aging can be, usually is saggy, wrinkly, leaned-over-walkingly - I ain't gonna wait til the midnight hour and the withering away within and all the while keeping positive thinking from being unleashed.
See a pretty face.. I might turn around in the aisle and go see it again. See a really nice smile.. don't walk past it Victor, let that person know "Hey, you've got a really cool smile." Come into contact with a couple that you can tell they are emotionally super glued to one another? Ask 'em how that all started.. "How did you guys meet, and where'd ya go on your first date?"
Among the answers I've gotten recently... "well, I was 19, her daddy lemme fish in their pond, she was 14, and I guess the rest is history" (this was a couple that played golf where I work on their 50th anniversary...oh, and they didn't wait until the midnight hour, they chagrinned a cart and walked the course instead!)... "Skating rink.. 42 years ago." "In a bar... like interests I guess.".. "Very small town, I was a teacher, she was a student, but there's more to explain." I smiled, it's all good, I don't needta know!
There be some truth about the dangers or retirement in that "if you don't move, you'll die." I very much wish that meant I've been going to the gym, I threw out my size 36" jeans and bought 34" jeans. To the contrary, I'm donating my 36's and am now in 40's... breathing room, but I needs 'em. My "if you don't move, you'll die" isn't necessarily the most constructive of ways - but it's been a nice awakening.. I've pretty much always written what I feel - but now, I verbalize that as well. Crap like "I really admire you"... "Thanks for coming to play golf"... "I'm really glad, at our age, we can still do this" - statements that for years went unsaid, are now creeping outta my, and my friends mouths. Hell, ya even hear the word love more nowadays.
Past arguments don't last until the midnight hour.. you fist bump, shake hands or hug, then say things like "you go ahead and sit up front, I'm good"... or, "how's your hip (back/knee, leg, pee/no pee, bursitis, arthritis, u get the drift.).. ya care. So ya doin't wait til midnight.
Are we now perfect? Hell to the no, but why not have your coffee, steak, garden, bed, car, outlook, attitude - how ya like it? 2020 is scary enough no matter which side you're on - don't wait til midnight, enjoy living in the now.
Victor, you preaching again? Nope, simply enjoying. Oh sure, life has it's moments - we couldn't suckup (and apperchiate) the good if life was easy.. there would be no uplift without downfall.
I like your car. That's a really cool top. If I had your clothes, I'd donate all mine to Immacolata Manor.. Your baby is so danged cute. You must be on drugs, you're always happy (< I strongly endorse this one, it ALWAYS brings a smile)..
' Live. Love. Don't wait. I guess if this is preaching, so be it. Preaching comes with 'pews', and sure, I've had bad breath, smelly pits, farts that slip out, that stuff.. I am human smell me roar, ha.
Like life whilst we can.. don't wait until it's likeable - regardless of what Wilson Pickett wrote.
Close your ears. I just emailed someone "You shoulda been/should be a movie star." Creepy? Mebbe. Stalker? NO. Odds stacked agin', but, worst case, if I can bring her one moment of comfort, 'feel-goodery' should she ever get down, why not? She knows how I feel. I ain't waitin' til midnight on nuttin' any longer.
Love, why not... Victurd
To/fro, I worried, searched, dreaded not finding a writing topic. The two mile or so trek home included like 34 lane changes due to construction, folks planted on the white lines w/turn signals on, begging to get over. Red Rover red rover, bring your Chevy on over, but perty please don't take all day..
Where was I? Oh yeah.. weaving, bobbing, driving, braking, greenlighting, redlighting...what scenery - I'm too busy trying to figure out which lane I should be in on this road I've driven for 51 years. Victor, you gripe too much.. Where was I?
Oh yeah, thinking of junk to write about. It was then, just then, as I traversed up the hill to The Square I saw the most beautiful lady I've seen in at least four hours... awaiting the line outside at a breakfast joint.. so... what's a pig to do? He drives around the Square, back down the hill.. makes a left turn, and traverses the road where the pretty lady was standing. I ain't waiting on the midnight hour any longer.
I know I know I ain't dead.. and I know I know I have hopefully some more trips around the sun... but what the hey ya know?
Much hasn't changed, but age has changed me. Uh huh, the bod takes it's toll, so why not accentuate the positive of aging?. Whilst aging can be, usually is saggy, wrinkly, leaned-over-walkingly - I ain't gonna wait til the midnight hour and the withering away within and all the while keeping positive thinking from being unleashed.
See a pretty face.. I might turn around in the aisle and go see it again. See a really nice smile.. don't walk past it Victor, let that person know "Hey, you've got a really cool smile." Come into contact with a couple that you can tell they are emotionally super glued to one another? Ask 'em how that all started.. "How did you guys meet, and where'd ya go on your first date?"
Among the answers I've gotten recently... "well, I was 19, her daddy lemme fish in their pond, she was 14, and I guess the rest is history" (this was a couple that played golf where I work on their 50th anniversary...oh, and they didn't wait until the midnight hour, they chagrinned a cart and walked the course instead!)... "Skating rink.. 42 years ago." "In a bar... like interests I guess.".. "Very small town, I was a teacher, she was a student, but there's more to explain." I smiled, it's all good, I don't needta know!
There be some truth about the dangers or retirement in that "if you don't move, you'll die." I very much wish that meant I've been going to the gym, I threw out my size 36" jeans and bought 34" jeans. To the contrary, I'm donating my 36's and am now in 40's... breathing room, but I needs 'em. My "if you don't move, you'll die" isn't necessarily the most constructive of ways - but it's been a nice awakening.. I've pretty much always written what I feel - but now, I verbalize that as well. Crap like "I really admire you"... "Thanks for coming to play golf"... "I'm really glad, at our age, we can still do this" - statements that for years went unsaid, are now creeping outta my, and my friends mouths. Hell, ya even hear the word love more nowadays.
Past arguments don't last until the midnight hour.. you fist bump, shake hands or hug, then say things like "you go ahead and sit up front, I'm good"... or, "how's your hip (back/knee, leg, pee/no pee, bursitis, arthritis, u get the drift.).. ya care. So ya doin't wait til midnight.
Are we now perfect? Hell to the no, but why not have your coffee, steak, garden, bed, car, outlook, attitude - how ya like it? 2020 is scary enough no matter which side you're on - don't wait til midnight, enjoy living in the now.
Victor, you preaching again? Nope, simply enjoying. Oh sure, life has it's moments - we couldn't suckup (and apperchiate) the good if life was easy.. there would be no uplift without downfall.
I like your car. That's a really cool top. If I had your clothes, I'd donate all mine to Immacolata Manor.. Your baby is so danged cute. You must be on drugs, you're always happy (< I strongly endorse this one, it ALWAYS brings a smile)..
' Live. Love. Don't wait. I guess if this is preaching, so be it. Preaching comes with 'pews', and sure, I've had bad breath, smelly pits, farts that slip out, that stuff.. I am human smell me roar, ha.
Like life whilst we can.. don't wait until it's likeable - regardless of what Wilson Pickett wrote.
Close your ears. I just emailed someone "You shoulda been/should be a movie star." Creepy? Mebbe. Stalker? NO. Odds stacked agin', but, worst case, if I can bring her one moment of comfort, 'feel-goodery' should she ever get down, why not? She knows how I feel. I ain't waitin' til midnight on nuttin' any longer.
Love, why not... Victurd
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