The Charlie Brown Halloween Special is on TV every year and I like to re-share the post about my strangest Halloween night.
Both are traditions. Here goes:
I was 14 and too old to trick or treat, but
too young to stay in. So after helping my grandma close her store,
I headed for the nearby sub-division to meet up with friends. It was a
quarter-mile walk in the pitch black on a country road. Perfect for a
spooky night.
When I neared the subdivision, I heard a
commotion near one of the houses. As I rounded the corner and stepped into the front yard I
saw a man in his 30’s pointing a shiny handgun at four boys--who
were huddled together. I was out in the open and he pointed the gun at
me.
Without thinking about it, I walked towards him, gestured
towards the kids and asked, “What did they do?“, as if I was not a kid
myself. He turned the gun back towards them. As I stood next to him, he explained his mother’s house had been egged—and he was tired
of her being harassed. I introduced myself as the grandson of the woman
who ran the little store (everyone knew her) and told him
I’d talked with his mom many times. Then I turned to the only one of the accused I knew:
Me: Andy, did you and your friends throw the eggs?
Andy: No.
Me: Do you know who did?
Andy: We saw guys running that way just before we got here.
Me: Okay, you two go look for the other guys and try to get names. You two help Mr. Wilson clean the egg off his mom’s house.
Mr.
Wilson put his gun away, apologized to me for losing his temper, and
then they all did what I told them to do. Whew!!! That’s when I realized
if you act confident and that you are doing what you're supposed to,
people will cooperate. It all happened so quickly, I didn’t have time to
get nervous. But I did feel shaky as I went in search of my friends.
That’s when I encountered the girl.
She and I had recently been talking on the bus and at school. I
had just started this new thing where I actually talked with people. It
was a conscious decision to change my behavior. I’d been VERY reserved
up until then. That night we walked with the group, talked, and looked out for
the little ones. When it was time to head home, she wanted to tell me
something. We walked off to get some privacy. She said her family was
moving out of state that weekend and she wanted to kiss me good-bye. It
was quite an experience—my first real kiss. I didn’t have anything to
compare it to, but it was nice. My opinion on that would change.
Soon,
I wasn’t feeling great. By Thanksgiving I had pneumonia, which led to
the discovery I also had mononucleosis and an enlarged spleen. One
of the flapper’s friends confirmed she had mono when she kissed me—she’d
snuck out of her house that night. I was VERY sick. Our doctor wanted to put me in
the hospital, but my parents were frugal regarding health care (you did
not want to be one of our pets). I missed school the entire
month of December and there were rumors I'd died, so my first week back was a little strange.
Some might think it sweet she slipped out of her house to kiss me goodbye. Since I got so sick, I decided it was thoughtless she exposed me to mono. Oh well, at
least it was a memorable first kiss.
I ended the original post
by wondering who would have guessed the girl would end up being more
dangerous than the gun. At the time, it never occurred to me a girl could be that
dangerous. What a naive boy. LOL!
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
Friday, October 26, 2012
Something is in the house!!!
One bright, autumn afternoon I went with my dad and brothers to do chores on my dad's family's farm. We went after finishing chores at our house, so it was late afternoon. I think I was 10.
My dad took our beagles along to let them run in the woods (practice chasing rabbits). When we were ready to go home, we called the dogs . But they were not ready to go--they ignored us. In a move that completely shocked me, my dad decided to leave them there. Leaving a son, sure (I joke). But leaving his hunting dogs??? We went home, had dinner, and then headed back for the dogs. It was well after dark
After arriving back at the farm we walked into the woods, listening for the dogs. Before long we could hear them on the trail of a rabbit, howling as they ran. We picked a spot we thought would be along their path, turned off the flashlights and waited. Almost magically, they (thanks to the rabbit) ran towards us. When they got close, we turned on the lights. That startled the two dogs and they came over to us, wagging their tails.
Within minutes we had them in the very back of my mom's station wagon, which was parked right next to the old farm house. The ancient (Civil War-era) two-story house on the farm was abandoned at that point. Local kids shot holes in the roof years before and the house was beyond saving. It stood there, completely dark and eerie looking.
Guess what? The station wagon wouldn't start. The battery suddenly was very dead.
My dad decided to walk to our uncle's house for help. We (my brother, me, and the beagles) stayed in the car. I'm not sure if we waited there a long time or if time was just passing slowly. But it seemed as if our dad was gone a very long time.
As we sat there, I thought I heard something familiar. It was the faint sound of sawing. Where could it be coming from? My brother asked if I heard it. Then we agreed the sound was coming from the house. The abandoned house!!! It got louder. We pretended it was nothing, but we were getting more creeped out the louder it got.
Next we could hear hammering along with the sawing. Something frightening was going on inside that house. I told my brother we needed to do something (not sure if I meant investigate or run). He did something. He jumped into the back of the station wagon with the beagles. They would save him!
Suddenly, all was quiet. But soon the sounds started up again. This time my brother could tell the sounds were being caused by the dogs--wagging their tails. A slight wag made a "sawing" sound across the carpet and an excited wag made the dogs' tails thump against the side of the wagon--making a "hammering" sound.
I shared the story with my dad that night, which upset my brother. Since he was older and tried to hide behind the dogs, I suppose he was embarrassed. But not me!!! I'm happy to share an almost-ghost story to go along with my real ones.
Have a great weekend!
My dad took our beagles along to let them run in the woods (practice chasing rabbits). When we were ready to go home, we called the dogs . But they were not ready to go--they ignored us. In a move that completely shocked me, my dad decided to leave them there. Leaving a son, sure (I joke). But leaving his hunting dogs??? We went home, had dinner, and then headed back for the dogs. It was well after dark
After arriving back at the farm we walked into the woods, listening for the dogs. Before long we could hear them on the trail of a rabbit, howling as they ran. We picked a spot we thought would be along their path, turned off the flashlights and waited. Almost magically, they (thanks to the rabbit) ran towards us. When they got close, we turned on the lights. That startled the two dogs and they came over to us, wagging their tails.
Within minutes we had them in the very back of my mom's station wagon, which was parked right next to the old farm house. The ancient (Civil War-era) two-story house on the farm was abandoned at that point. Local kids shot holes in the roof years before and the house was beyond saving. It stood there, completely dark and eerie looking.
Guess what? The station wagon wouldn't start. The battery suddenly was very dead.
My dad decided to walk to our uncle's house for help. We (my brother, me, and the beagles) stayed in the car. I'm not sure if we waited there a long time or if time was just passing slowly. But it seemed as if our dad was gone a very long time.
As we sat there, I thought I heard something familiar. It was the faint sound of sawing. Where could it be coming from? My brother asked if I heard it. Then we agreed the sound was coming from the house. The abandoned house!!! It got louder. We pretended it was nothing, but we were getting more creeped out the louder it got.
Next we could hear hammering along with the sawing. Something frightening was going on inside that house. I told my brother we needed to do something (not sure if I meant investigate or run). He did something. He jumped into the back of the station wagon with the beagles. They would save him!
Suddenly, all was quiet. But soon the sounds started up again. This time my brother could tell the sounds were being caused by the dogs--wagging their tails. A slight wag made a "sawing" sound across the carpet and an excited wag made the dogs' tails thump against the side of the wagon--making a "hammering" sound.
I shared the story with my dad that night, which upset my brother. Since he was older and tried to hide behind the dogs, I suppose he was embarrassed. But not me!!! I'm happy to share an almost-ghost story to go along with my real ones.
Have a great weekend!
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
Selecting Godparents
My wife watches "The New Normal." Tonight's episode dealt with choosing godparents. It reminded me that nothing (NOTHING) in my life ever inspired me more to want to LIVE. LOL! Well, that and having to name a guardian for the kids in a will. We could never agree on anyone. Family members? Nope! Friends? Nice people, but raising my kids??? I couldn't do that to them (my kids).
That might be a sign I need to start hanging out (in real life) with a better class of people. :P
That might be a sign I need to start hanging out (in real life) with a better class of people. :P
Saturday, October 20, 2012
Smiling Faces
It's nice to see people smile, unless the smile resembles the lovable Dr. Sheldon Cooper's forced, creepy grin. He means well, but it comes out wrong. Having a friend with a contagious smile can really brighten up your life.
Speaking of smiles, many states now won't allow you to smile for your driver's license photo. It used to be a joke that the pictures looked like mug shots (arrest pictures), but now they really do. The government doesn't want smiles because they foul up computer facial recognition programs that identify people by comparing and matching photos--like the ones in the driver's license database.
So if I were a smart criminal and didn't want facial recognition programs to identify me, I probably would walk around with a big grin on my face all the time.
Hmmm...(so THAT's why he smiles all the time). :P
PS - I joke, but it's not funny and it's nothing new (computer programs aside). Smiling faces...to trust them or not? All we can do is follow our instincts.
Speaking of smiles, many states now won't allow you to smile for your driver's license photo. It used to be a joke that the pictures looked like mug shots (arrest pictures), but now they really do. The government doesn't want smiles because they foul up computer facial recognition programs that identify people by comparing and matching photos--like the ones in the driver's license database.
So if I were a smart criminal and didn't want facial recognition programs to identify me, I probably would walk around with a big grin on my face all the time.
Hmmm...(so THAT's why he smiles all the time). :P
PS - I joke, but it's not funny and it's nothing new (computer programs aside). Smiling faces...to trust them or not? All we can do is follow our instincts.
Monday, October 15, 2012
Painful Superpower
My wife has several superpowers and one of them is very painful--especially to me.
I first discovered this back in my Hardee's days. An employee started to reach into the hot fry vat to grab something he'd dropped. I pushed him away to stop him and he dropped what was in his other hand. That caused hot oil to splash up and hit my left arm in a few spots. I immediately shoved my arm into the ice machine. (Did we remember to throw that ice out? Oh well, that's not part of the story anyway.) But it was too late, I had 5 or 6 serious burns that blistered up the next day. They were all small, none larger than a US nickel.
Enter the superpower. My very reserved girlfriend suddenly felt playful. She kept grabbing my hand and tickling my arm--and bumping the burns. Within a day she'd accidentally popped all the blisters. It hurt! She didn't do it on purpose. She's just magically drawn to injuries. In another example, not long after we were married I developed an in-grown toenail. Suddenly my wife became very clumsy, kicking or stepping on that toe repeatedly.
Yee--ouch!
You're probably thinking it was intentional or perhaps her subconscious lashing out. But that's not it. I've hidden injuries from her in hopes of avoiding the pain of her superpower. She still homes right in on on the sore spot. I'm her main target, but not the only one. At Disney she clipped (with a stroller) the heel of a German woman who'd just had foot surgery. That was an unpleasant exerience. Her co-workers have been on the receiving end of her magic and so have our kids. It's one of those weird things you learn to accept (through gritted teeth--from the pain). :P
We all have superpowers. Do you know what yours are???
PS - My superpowers include (but are not limited to) finding wet spots on the floor with my socks; gravitating towards weird situations; and finding interesting people.
I first discovered this back in my Hardee's days. An employee started to reach into the hot fry vat to grab something he'd dropped. I pushed him away to stop him and he dropped what was in his other hand. That caused hot oil to splash up and hit my left arm in a few spots. I immediately shoved my arm into the ice machine. (Did we remember to throw that ice out? Oh well, that's not part of the story anyway.) But it was too late, I had 5 or 6 serious burns that blistered up the next day. They were all small, none larger than a US nickel.
Enter the superpower. My very reserved girlfriend suddenly felt playful. She kept grabbing my hand and tickling my arm--and bumping the burns. Within a day she'd accidentally popped all the blisters. It hurt! She didn't do it on purpose. She's just magically drawn to injuries. In another example, not long after we were married I developed an in-grown toenail. Suddenly my wife became very clumsy, kicking or stepping on that toe repeatedly.
Yee--ouch!
You're probably thinking it was intentional or perhaps her subconscious lashing out. But that's not it. I've hidden injuries from her in hopes of avoiding the pain of her superpower. She still homes right in on on the sore spot. I'm her main target, but not the only one. At Disney she clipped (with a stroller) the heel of a German woman who'd just had foot surgery. That was an unpleasant exerience. Her co-workers have been on the receiving end of her magic and so have our kids. It's one of those weird things you learn to accept (through gritted teeth--from the pain). :P
We all have superpowers. Do you know what yours are???
PS - My superpowers include (but are not limited to) finding wet spots on the floor with my socks; gravitating towards weird situations; and finding interesting people.
Thursday, October 11, 2012
"Panic...
...and you are lost!!!"
I'm not sure my father or grandfather said those exact words to me. But it was the gist of several comments from them. I remember my grandfather telling me to remain calm around bees. My dad, well, he shared advice on staying calm quite often. The underlying theme was that you need to keep calm so you can deal with the situation--by yourself, without needing help from others. The under, underlying theme was it's a man's responsibility to keep his head in any situation (while the girls and girly men panic). My dad was just a bit old-fashioned and very German. :P
Sexism aside, his advice about not panicking was actually helpful. Starting when I was very young. For example:
In the 3rd grade a class field trip fell through at the last minute. Since we already had the bus, the teacher decided to take us to a park to play and have a picnic. The specific park she chose had a very cool replica of an airplane. You could sit in the open-air cockpit and pretend to fly or you could crawl through tubes in the wings. I took a turn in the pilot's seat and then wiggled through the right wing. I decided to try the left wing. I made it halfway through the tube, then got STUCK.
I was stuck in a tiny, freaking, metal tube!!!
I felt a brief surge of panic. It lasted about as long as a gasp. Then I could hear my dad's voice, telling me I had to figure out what to do. I crossed my arms in front of me (to make my shoulders narrower) and used the tips of my sneakers to push forward and out of the tube. Freedom felt very, very nice! If I'd panicked, who knows what sort of emotional damage might have occurred before I was rescued (he wrote while twitching, shuddering, and twitching again). :P
When you need help, remember no one is closer than you. Help yourself when you can. (I think I made that up--please don't tell me if you've heard it before) Unlike my dad, I know we can't always control our reactions. But if you can avoid panicking, it will only help you.
PS - I wish my S-I-L (who called me screaming hysterically, as if she was driving off a cliff) could have taken a breath and remembered it was possible to turn around at the next highway exit when she realized she had missed her turn. She had been driving for 20 years at the time. Instead she scared years off my life over nothing. Nothing!!!
Ooops. I forgot. She's a girl, it's okay for her to panic (according to my dad). LOL!!!
I'm not sure my father or grandfather said those exact words to me. But it was the gist of several comments from them. I remember my grandfather telling me to remain calm around bees. My dad, well, he shared advice on staying calm quite often. The underlying theme was that you need to keep calm so you can deal with the situation--by yourself, without needing help from others. The under, underlying theme was it's a man's responsibility to keep his head in any situation (while the girls and girly men panic). My dad was just a bit old-fashioned and very German. :P
Sexism aside, his advice about not panicking was actually helpful. Starting when I was very young. For example:
In the 3rd grade a class field trip fell through at the last minute. Since we already had the bus, the teacher decided to take us to a park to play and have a picnic. The specific park she chose had a very cool replica of an airplane. You could sit in the open-air cockpit and pretend to fly or you could crawl through tubes in the wings. I took a turn in the pilot's seat and then wiggled through the right wing. I decided to try the left wing. I made it halfway through the tube, then got STUCK.
I was stuck in a tiny, freaking, metal tube!!!
I felt a brief surge of panic. It lasted about as long as a gasp. Then I could hear my dad's voice, telling me I had to figure out what to do. I crossed my arms in front of me (to make my shoulders narrower) and used the tips of my sneakers to push forward and out of the tube. Freedom felt very, very nice! If I'd panicked, who knows what sort of emotional damage might have occurred before I was rescued (he wrote while twitching, shuddering, and twitching again). :P
When you need help, remember no one is closer than you. Help yourself when you can. (I think I made that up--please don't tell me if you've heard it before) Unlike my dad, I know we can't always control our reactions. But if you can avoid panicking, it will only help you.
PS - I wish my S-I-L (who called me screaming hysterically, as if she was driving off a cliff) could have taken a breath and remembered it was possible to turn around at the next highway exit when she realized she had missed her turn. She had been driving for 20 years at the time. Instead she scared years off my life over nothing. Nothing!!!
Ooops. I forgot. She's a girl, it's okay for her to panic (according to my dad). LOL!!!
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
A Failure
My next post is going to be about helping yourself, which can be difficult at times. First, I want to share a story about a time I should have been patient and relied on others. But didn't!
While I worked at Hardee's the chain installed fancy, new slicers for their roast beef. After we closed that first day, a company rep was supposed to show us how to clean and sharpen it. Instead she sat out in the lobby talking with a friend. I got tired of waiting (I had a long walk home ahead of me) and decided I would just do it myself--my grandmother had a slicer in her store, I knew how they worked. Almost immediately, I made a mistake.
While I worked at Hardee's the chain installed fancy, new slicers for their roast beef. After we closed that first day, a company rep was supposed to show us how to clean and sharpen it. Instead she sat out in the lobby talking with a friend. I got tired of waiting (I had a long walk home ahead of me) and decided I would just do it myself--my grandmother had a slicer in her store, I knew how they worked. Almost immediately, I made a mistake.
I cut my right index finger--deeply, really deeply. Really, really, deeply. It HURT! When a co-worker saw the blood, the guy started laughing. Since I was gritting my teeth at the pain, his laughter was not the least bit contagious. Did I mention it hurt??? As a result of that little encounter with a slicer blade, I have a straight line through my fingerprint. It's no more visible than the rest of my fingerprint, but I know it's there.
So, when you can help yourself, do. But when it is a non-emergency and you don't really know what you're doing (especially if it's a machine with moving parts), get help!!!
After I shared the slicer story with my wife, we had a "Life with Ricademus" moment:
Wife: Did your parents sue Hardee's for your medical costs?
Me: No, we could afford the bandaid.
I was mostly joking, but as I've mentioned before, my parents were frugal regarding health care--and they were asleep when I got home. I really did just wash the wound, apply some mercurochrome and wrap a bandaid around it. It was a straight, clean wound, so it healed well without stitches.
PS - All fingerprints are unique, but I think my straight line would make it even easier for the FBI to identify me. I HAVE to be good. :)
I was mostly joking, but as I've mentioned before, my parents were frugal regarding health care--and they were asleep when I got home. I really did just wash the wound, apply some mercurochrome and wrap a bandaid around it. It was a straight, clean wound, so it healed well without stitches.
PS - All fingerprints are unique, but I think my straight line would make it even easier for the FBI to identify me. I HAVE to be good. :)
Friday, October 5, 2012
Dark Side V
Sometimes I worry people might get the wrong idea and think I'm nice. So it's time to share another darkside story to nip that in the bud.
Today's entry is from my time working as an assistant manager at a fast food place during high school. I primarily worked the closing shift, which required me to complete a daily sales and activity report. It included a variety of information, including the sales/cash reconciliation, a description of the weather and mention of any special circumstances which might have affected sales (like if the Burger King across the street burned down). Once a week I also had to complete an inventory.
The store's other assistant manager at the time was a fellow named Paul. He was older than I was and had a different attitude towards the job. He thought the job made him cool and he acted like a jerk (I think of him everytime I see that cliche portrayed in a movie or show). He ended up being fired for stealing. But just before that happened, I did something unfortunate to him.
When he worked afternoons, Paul would pre-sign the daily report that I had to complete at closing--so it would appear HE had done the work. I talked with him about it. He kept doing it. I warned him it was a type of fraud. He kept doing it. He was the manager's pet (I was the under-age hard worker), so making him eat a mushroom was not an option.
One night as I finished a report Paul had signed (taken credit for), I received an inspiration. I decided to let him take credit for something interesting. I wrote that the weather had been really #$%^&* that day.
A week later Paul received a letter from headquarters informing him he would receive a reprimand if he used such colorful language again. He was confused. I told him it was the universe telling him he shouldn't sign reports I'd be completing. He understood and stopped pre-signing my reports. Soon it didn't matter. Within a few weeks the manager caught Paul stealing and fired him. It broke the old guy's heart. He'd taken a real liking to Paul (for some reason).
It was an evil thing for me to do. Even at 17 I should have been able to find a more adult way of handling the situation. I feel bad about it now, but for some reason I was smiling as I wrote this. Hmmm...
Have a great weekend--it's a 3-day weekend for me!
Today's entry is from my time working as an assistant manager at a fast food place during high school. I primarily worked the closing shift, which required me to complete a daily sales and activity report. It included a variety of information, including the sales/cash reconciliation, a description of the weather and mention of any special circumstances which might have affected sales (like if the Burger King across the street burned down). Once a week I also had to complete an inventory.
The store's other assistant manager at the time was a fellow named Paul. He was older than I was and had a different attitude towards the job. He thought the job made him cool and he acted like a jerk (I think of him everytime I see that cliche portrayed in a movie or show). He ended up being fired for stealing. But just before that happened, I did something unfortunate to him.
When he worked afternoons, Paul would pre-sign the daily report that I had to complete at closing--so it would appear HE had done the work. I talked with him about it. He kept doing it. I warned him it was a type of fraud. He kept doing it. He was the manager's pet (I was the under-age hard worker), so making him eat a mushroom was not an option.
One night as I finished a report Paul had signed (taken credit for), I received an inspiration. I decided to let him take credit for something interesting. I wrote that the weather had been really #$%^&* that day.
A week later Paul received a letter from headquarters informing him he would receive a reprimand if he used such colorful language again. He was confused. I told him it was the universe telling him he shouldn't sign reports I'd be completing. He understood and stopped pre-signing my reports. Soon it didn't matter. Within a few weeks the manager caught Paul stealing and fired him. It broke the old guy's heart. He'd taken a real liking to Paul (for some reason).
It was an evil thing for me to do. Even at 17 I should have been able to find a more adult way of handling the situation. I feel bad about it now, but for some reason I was smiling as I wrote this. Hmmm...
Have a great weekend--it's a 3-day weekend for me!
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
License to Drive
Some of you may wonder if I made up this story (I didn't). Most of you will wonder WHY I'm sharing it, but there will be a point.
Like most teens, I was eager to get my driver’s license. I practiced on our dirt road—using an OLD 3-speed Rambler my dad sold to me. He later sold it to someone else (and kept my money). That’s a different story. I was ready to take the driving test, but no one would take me. My parents weren’t keen on having another driver in the family.
Like most teens, I was eager to get my driver’s license. I practiced on our dirt road—using an OLD 3-speed Rambler my dad sold to me. He later sold it to someone else (and kept my money). That’s a different story. I was ready to take the driving test, but no one would take me. My parents weren’t keen on having another driver in the family.
Finally they relented during the school holiday between Christmas and New Year’s. The youngest of my 3 sisters (the one who set me free in the woods) agreed to take me . Yes! I’d never driven her car, but I was confident that driving it to the DMV would be enough for me to get a feel for it.
It would have been, except she refused to let me drive. She said she agreed to take me, she didn’t agree to be my passenger. It was still the best (only) offer I had. The test consisted of driving through a course laid out in the DMV parking lot and then parallel parking. My first attempt to park didn’t work. So I checked the mirrors, pulled back out, and tried again. Once I thought I was in the space properly, I put the car in “Park”. The reviewer opened his door, looked down, and then told me to drive him back to the building—I passed.
Once inside, my sister informed me she was not bringing me back. That confused me. I asked her if they made you come back to actually receive your license. She responded, “No, but you failed.” When I told her I passed, she got angry. She wanted me to fail.
Like that trip into the woods, it wasn’t anything (too) personal. She failed the driving test the first 3 times she took it. Like me, all of our other siblings passed on the first try. That sister didn't want to be the only one who failed the driving test. She wanted company in her misery.
That's not unusual--I guess that's why there is an expression about it. But the world is a much happier place when we manage to put aside petty feelings and instead try to be happy when others succeed--even on something so small as passing a driving test. My sister could have been happy on the drive home. But she chose to be miserable.
Don't be like my sister!!! That might be the best advice I've ever given. LOL!
PS - Normally I’d feel compassion for someone in her position and offer comfort. But her attitude pushed the same buttons my old classmate Harper did. I wasn’t mean to her, there was no taunting. I simply left her to her misery. That was sort of the high road, right???
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