Last request

A friend just told me this joke.

A Newfoundlander, on his death bed, made the following request:

When I die, bury me face down.

That way, I can see where I am going, and the rest of the world can kiss my ass!

Tribute to Mothers Day

hand sewn dresses

and hand me down shoes

hair down to her shoulders

walking to school

over two miles walk

she never complained

she grew up poor but loved

she did well in her grades

which lead to life in another town

she met my dad

they shared a smile

and then a life together

and I was born

my brothers and sisters next

she gave us all her love

she still does

I love you mom

My dad and the Psychedelic Pickup Truck

Back when I was a kid, my dad decided to buy a truck. He had been doing a bit of work on the house and he found it a pain to try and bring supplies to the house with the old car. Without a whole lot of money to spend, his choices were few, and upon returning home from the city,  he and mom arrived in the driveway with a very beat up old Dodge pickup.

The truck was called a ‘Club Cab’, Dodge’s version of an extended cab pickup. Being a kid, I marveled at the cool back seat that folded out of sight when it wasn’t being used. I looked at the little storage compartments at either end of the cab as an excellent place to store things, such as cap guns and caps.

The truck was a light green color, highlighted by rust. The engine burned a little oil, but dad said that he knew where to get a new motor for a fair price. He ordered the motor from the Sears Catalog. When it arrived, he and my Uncle Albert put it together and into the old truck. My Uncle Albert was a whiz at cars, and although he never had any formal education, he could pick apart any engine and have it running by the end of the day. He was also great at painting cars.

Once they had the engine in the truck, my uncle made several  runs up the old dirt road that ran  through the community. With dust flicking everywhere, my dad grew excited that his truck now had the power to pull itself. The only thing left was that horrible faded pea green paint, but he couldn’t afford a paint  job. No problem, my uncle offered to paint it for him, for a good price. He suggested that since the truck was so big, one  paint color  just wouldn’t do.  He suggested a ‘two-tone’ paint  job. Mom liked blue, and suggested a navy blue with sky blue trim. My dad agreed.

My uncle took the old truck into his garage and went to work. In an effort to save money, he omitted one important step. When painting a vehicle two colors, the process  is to paint one color, wait for it to dry, mask the paint and then paint the other color. That way the colors don’t mix and it gives you a clean look. My uncle didn’t mask the truck. He simply painted the entire truck the sky blue my mom suggested, and before the paint was even dry, he sprayed the navy blue paint around the fenders and windows.

Excited to see his new paint job, my dad and mom, and me of course, headed for my uncle’s house bright and early Saturday morning. When dad opened the door, his smile turned to a frown. “What the hell?” he said. “What in the hell did you do to my truck?” he asked. Mom simply said “Horrible!”

My uncle rushed to the door to calm them down. He took one  look at my dad’s face and knew that he was in for it. “All my money, wasted. You ruined the truck!” my dad said.

“What do you mean ruined? This is beautiful! This is what all the Hollywood Celebrities are doing these days.” he lied.

I will always remember what he said next.

“It’s Psychedelic ” This is a Psychedelic paint job. It’s custom. Nobody else has this paint job anywhere. You now have a hot rod pickup truck with a Psychedelic paint job!” said my uncle Albert.

“Psychedelic huh? Oh well, if the big Hollywood guys have this on their truck, maybe I should move with the times!”  my dad said. He was smiling again.

Of course nobody knew what Psychedelic actually meant. My dad was far from  a drug user or a hippy, he was a straight laced Catholic who hated the liberal hippies who protested everything and as he put it, complained a whole  lot  as well.

Although my dad got strange looks  everywhere that he took his truck, eventually everyone wanted a psychedelic paint job as well. In no  time, cars and trucks everywhere had this same paint job. My uncle made a fortune all because he was too lazy to apply masking tape to my dad’s truck.

When rust began to creep back onto the old truck, my dad did the body work himself and brought the truck to someone else to spray it.  They painted it  a single tone  of blue. My dad’s psychedelic days were over. Thank heavens.

 

still busy…

For the past few weeks I have been slack when it comes to my blog. We are knee deep in home renovations. I do manage to check out the works of others (Hey, I gotta have SOME enjoyment!)

You will have to excuse my little sister, she bites…

My ten year old son just began playing with a few kids from  the community.  A family who lives nearby has two children, a boy and a girl. The boy is eleven, while the little girl is just seven. These kids are ROUGH!

A few years ago our son visited with the boy, whose name is Tommy. When he came home, he told of a very cool movie he and Tommy watched. ‘The Scorpion King’! He had nightmares for weeks! I was appalled by the fact that this kid’s parents allowed their kid to watch the movie, let alone allowing our kid to watch it without even calling us first. We swore he wouldn’t be going back there for quite a while.

Anyway Tommy seems to have grown  up a bit. I say that jokingly. He came over in our yard armed with a home made bow and arrow, with another under his arm that he made for my boy, and had plans to go small game hunting in our yard.

What he didn’t realize is that our yard is a no kill zone  for everything short of mosquitoes and house flies. I caught up with the two of them at in the driveway and explained our rules. Tommy couldn’t believe it that we actually fed birds and squirrels. When he seen that the birds were so tame that they ate from my hand, he was amazed.

Kids these days are so violent! When I asked  what his favorite activity was, he explained that his parents just bought him the new Call of Duty game. This is a game rated M for mature. Doesn’t  this mean anything to parents?

Anyway,  the kids were out back playing when all of a sudden we heard the screams. The neighbor’s little girl (who looked like she was raised by wolves, long matted hair looked like it was never cut or combed) had her teeth clamped on my son’s arm. I ran to his rescue, hollering at  her to let go.  When she did let go, her and Tommy (who had his sights set on a little mother robin in her nest)  were both sent home and not welcomed back.

These days it is so difficult to raise kids. Parents  no longer have the right to discipline their children, and it seems  as if the kids are aware of  this. We use grounding  for one sort of discipline, but we  are  usually the ones  punished when we have to listen to the complaining and grumbling from our kid, but I feel that is our job  as parents to act like  adults. Tommy and his sister spend most of their time in front  of the television  playing violent games, and  it really shows  on  them. While some  games are educational, it seems that  the kids refuse  to play them in favor of the the shooting and killing  varieties. This troubles me greatly. Just saying…

An Apology: Hugh Jesso

Apparently the subject of one of my posts, one Hugh Jesso was not fond of one of my stories. It dealt with some of the antics we had at the call center.Maybe I should have asked his permission prior to writing the post. I received a call from Hugh, who asked me to remove the story. I have no problem doing so, but just know that nothing but humor was meant by the story and I apologize for depicting you the way I did. I hope this makes up for any damages I may have done.

Trifecta Challenge Week 75: The story of Howard Bannister

In a hospital bed in a Newfoundland community lies Howard Bannister. Howard became very sick recently, so a neighbor admitted him to the hospital. Soon after Howard arrived, he slipped into a coma. Doctors worked to revive him,without success. The poor man simply lay in his bed, no family or friends visited him.

Howard’s situation broke the heart of  a young nurse who worked in the ward where  Howard lay. She tried reaching out to the community, and through talking to people  who lived near Howard, a door of opportunity was opened. One of the ladies who admitted Howard mentioned that he had a dog, and people in the neighborhood put signs out everywhere in search of Howard’s dog.

A few days later, the dog was found.  Sally, the young nurse, asked her supervisor if she could bring the dog into the hospital.  Of  course the cranky old nurse denied her request. Sally did not give up. She started a petition in the neighborhood, and obtained enough names that the hospital administrator took a stand on Howard’s behalf.

The next day, Sally carried the little dog into the hospital and  into the room  where Howard still lay in a coma. when he seen Howard, he grew very excited. He leaped from Sally’s arms and right onto Howard. When the little dog finished giving Howard a good face cleaning, he lay next to his master. All of a sudden Howard’s arm moved. Everyone in the room witnessed a miracle. Howard’s arm moved from the position where it lay for many days, and  around his little dog. A small grin appeared on the man’s face as he held his little dog.

Later that day, Howard passed away peacefully. His suffering was over. Everyone  was amazed by the act of kindness by Nurse Sally, and by the power of love given by the little dog. The dog became a mascot at the hospital and was adopted by Nurse Sally and her family.

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This story is my entry into this week’s Trifecta Challenge.  The word this week  is ‘Door’ ( a means of access or participation : opportunity <opens new doors> <door to success>)