Boo at his best

That is a picture of a full grown Black Lab, named Boo, that lives at my daughters, my son-in-laws and grandsons home. A Black Lab with a sweet tooth. Sure glad it lives there and not here!

School security

Each morning, the students swipe their ID tags as they climb onto the school bus. A radio frequency tag tracks them, as it does when they arrive at school and as they leave the building.
Cameras watch them all day. Every visitor — parents, volunteers, the guy who fills the Coke machine — must surrender his or her driver's license to a secretary who checks it against a national database of sex offenders. This fall, nearly one in three schools literally trap visitors inside a "secure vestibule," a bulletproof glass room, until they're checked out. Welcome to the brave new world of school security. In an era when deadly school shootings seem to happen like clockwork, schools are hardening up, trying unconventional means to deter violence and keep track of students and adults.
This is not my grandson’s school but a real one I picked off the Internet. Scary isn’t it? This morning around 10 am I went to his school to bring him something he forgot at our house this morning. As I walked up and tugged at the doors, I was surprised but they were locked. Instead of walking in I read a rather large sign that directed me to “push the doorbell” on an intercom type of a gizmo with a button. “Could this be the “doorbell” they were referring to on the sign. Didn’t look like a doorbell but more like a gizmo of some type. I checked all over the door just to make sure there wasn’t a real doorbell somewhere else on the door and this sign wasn’t turned around or something. Kids have a habit of doing those things, you know. I was nervous being here in the first place and I didn’t want to make some type of an error with security, of all things, as I’m sure I would feel the full wrath of the Principal. [I’m still scared of Principals.] After I reread the sign directing me to do so and carefully following the arrow that was on the sign, which told me where the “doorbell” was, I pushed the button, with much trepidation. A very nice voice, female one it was, came through the gizmo and inquired of my mission. I convinced her that my mission was righteous and she said ”please come in to the office and we will help you”. I waited for the telltale clunk as the magnet pulled up the latch to unlock the door. The noise didn’t come but I still tried the door and found it now mysteriously open. “Must work off the Internet or something” I reasoned as I walked through. I noticed a small camera above my head silently filming me. “Filming” is probably the wrong word to use. I assumed that the camera was hooked up to a computer that was using some type of facial recognition software to determine whether I was a terrorist, a casino cheat, or a child molester. It turns out that they don’t have that type of software and that there wasn’t 10 security guards, being led by the Principal, that were waiting to swoop down on me if I messed up. Things have really changed in our schools and I’m sure that there will be many more changes coming in the near future. I think that the real threat is the child molester and not the terrorist.

The first paragraph of this story is about Houston, TX and they have a much more serious problem than we do but I’m sure were not far behind when it comes to school security. When my daughter 1st went to school it was in the state capital of South Dakota. She walked the three blocks to school and there definitely were not any cameras there and the doors were not locked. I’m not sure they were even locked at night. Our house doors weren’t. At the school where my daughter teaches, Middle School, which is a mere 1 block away from her son's school, the teachers become the front line of defense. They pull duty greeting visitors to the school and make sure that they are not terrorists before letting them in. The teachers refer to this as "Target Duty" and that is exactly what it is. Houston's idea of trapping visitors inside of a "secure vestibule" of bullet proof glass is a bit more teacher friendly. It was a different environment 40 years ago. I'm not so sure I like the "Progress" that we have made in those 40 years.

Ahhh Spring, finally

What is it that tells you that Spring is really here? How about some 66 degree temperatures? Being able to leave your coat at home when you go for a walk? We all have a different trigger to signify a change in seasons and for me it is going to work in the morning at the cemetery and as I go through the main gate and I look at one of our planting beds and see the following sight.
I quickly jump out of my truck, as I spy the tell-tale green shoots sticking through the layer of leaves and move away the leaf cover and this picture is what lies beneath. SPRING! I have procrastinated this posting a few days and already buds are appearing as spring overwhelms us. 70° temperatures accelerate the pre-show and the upcoming forecast of three days of rain will merely solidify natures march to full Spring color. Hopefully the grass will take a few more weeks to grow. Along with the pre-emergent shoots of tulips and crocus the birds arrive in force. I have no idea what has possessed the Robins to show in such force. I do not remember a Spring when so many arrived together and so soon. I took my camera with me yesterday and managed to capture a couple of our bird visitors. The Downy woodpecker seemed excited about my photography and posed for me several times. I also managed to capture a female Northern Mockingbird hanging out on our tomb stones.

I missed a shot of my first Ivory Billed Woodpecker, all 18" of him because yesterday I forgot to pack my camera for the day. I included a photo of this monster that I got from the web so you can see what I missed.

On Site Computer Repairs

Yesterday I started my computer and as it started up, the screen turned black and that was all that there was. My heart stopped! How can that possible be? I turned it off and restarted and as it came up the screen went black again and there was no more. No explanation, no list of things that went bad, no fatal exception warning, no nothing. I tried a dozen times to no avail. This is every computer owners worst nightmare. Oh what will I do [position back of hand over eyes], what will I do [wring hands quickly]. I know, I will call my computer Guru, Michael. Quickly I dial 413.427.4473 "HELP MICHAEL, HELP!", "I have blogs to write, before I sleep, blogs to write before I sleep". "Sorry Ted, I'm with a customer and can't come until I am done." "Oh, OK Mike give me a call when you get free".

Mike came today, typed a few things, and the computer started up normally. YESSSSS! [Fist closed and held about waist high and a short punching motion is delivered]. About last Thursday Mike was over here to help me install new memory. Computer came with 256 MB of Ram and we boosted it to 1000 to make it so the computer would not keep giving me message that "computer is low on memory....." Eventually the computer would tell me that the programs are "Not responding". I would reboot but the computer started not restarting [dreaded black screen mentioned above] giving me heart attacks so we raised the RAM. Now, since were back on line, the computer responds with almost blinding speed [almost].

These problems that I am having having been rearing their ugly heads for some time now and I think that I have the problem solved and WHAMO the next day everything turns to hell again. Michael diagnosed the problem over the telephone and told me where to go to get the the memory, I needed, fast and cheap and he would come over and help me put it in. Should have called him first. He showed me where all of those little programs reside that eat up your RAM and how to get rid of them but you can really get yourself in trouble messing with them if you don't know what you are doing. The safe solution is to add more RAM and bypass them. All of the memory, plus shipping, came to $69. I called and ordered it about 1pm and by 11am the next day I had it in my hot little hand ready for installation. I have included Mike's business card here because he did such a great job and in case someone close is reading this and needs a computer guru.

Pine Hill Cemetery . Com

We are now on line with our own web site at http://pinehillcemetery.com/ . I am building the site and it has been a real challenge. During the past several weeks I have been having all sorts of problems with my computer with a little problem called locking up and shutting down. Makes it a little tough to download things for uploading to my new web site but I managed. Still haven't figured out how to make the mail work but I will soon, I'm sure. Usually I deal with this locking up type of problem by buying a new computer but this time I decided to tough it out and figure it out for myself. We have our own guru that handles our company computer but this one is my problem. I figured that it probably revolved around around my extensive photography collection in the computer. That is where I started as I organized everything I had. 4 years worth of photos takes up a lot of room. I went through every photo I had in the computer and found that about 60% needed to be deleted. The remainder fit on three CD-R's and are now all nice and neatly organized in files. I actually can find what I am looking for now. My interest got piqued on cameras again and I have decided to buy a new one. My old one doesn't work very well anymore and about 75% of the time I have to pound it on something to make it turn on.

This is my new dream camera

My next step was to take a look at programs and I found a bunch that I didn't even know I had. I got rid of most of my old programs. I did all of this deleting and removing and nothing really happened. When I was doing my photo's my computer would shut down about two or three times per session. Two days ago I found a thing on my desktop called "Recycle Bin" and I emptied it. Don't think I have ever emptied it. Made a world of difference in my speed. Tonight I got rid of all of things housed under "Internet options" and my computer now operates at the speed of light. What a difference. Been fun and I have learned a whole bunch from it. Wonder where the money is going to come for the camera?

Getting back to our new web site, it should be fun to keep tabs on what is happening. Lots of stories to tell and lots of photos to show off. We're going to leave stories and photos for the most part open to anyone that wants to post them. This blog is my forum and I will try and remember it, otherwise I could dominate the entire web site. Too many photo's, too many stories, too little time. Keep us in mind as we keep building the site. Still a little bit rough around the edges but it gets better. Next month we will post our second story in our series of interesting people titled "Santa Clause is dead!"

My daughter the Barber?

My daughter is very good at keeping her marriage alive and exciting. Her latest was to mess with her husband Mike's hair. Ellen cuts Mike's hair and does a pretty good job at it except that for the past three haircuts she left part of it uncut. She wanted to see if she could get him to grow a tail without his knowledge. I knew about it but didn't notice anything until just before this last haircut when it appeared like he was going a little bit too long between haircuts. I just looked from the side and I thought it was getting long on the neck but it turns out I was looking at his new tail. Shows you how observant I am about these things. Mike said a few people were looking at his hair funny yesterday but no one said anything but his boss who walked behind him and said "what the hell have you got growing out of your head?" The jig was up and he figured out how it got there, He owes her for that big time. Hopefully he is good enough to pull if off. I would even offer to help him.

Knee Surgery

Monday my wife had the cartilage removed from her knee and is now recovering quiet well I might add. She is getting along with the aid of a cane that her grandfather used and it is over 100 years old. Neat! Before I tell you her experience I shall bore you with the details of two other torn cartilage incidents both involving me.

I grew up as a jock and a pretty good one but golfing eluded me somehow. I started out very young playing with a couple of my friends learning on sand greens. I looked promising but In 1961 I gave up the game because the frustration level was too high and I was not a very good scorer. Great form but the ball never went where it was supposed to go. 20 years later [1981] I stood on the number one tee at my old golf course getting ready to hit for the first time in 2 decades. I looked back at the club house as I addressed the ball and to my amazement were three of my old coaches, now retired sucking up mint juleps or something on the veranda and they were watching. I re-addressed the ball by talking to it saying "you had better go straight down the middle of the course or I will cut you in tiny pieces and scatter you in the parking lot". I wound up and hit the ball harder than I ever had in High School, and it went right down the middle of the course and about 300 yards. I was elated as I limpt off towards the card. It seems that as I was elating I was also crying because I had just tore the cartilage in my knee and it hurt like hell. I saw my Dr. and he sent me to a knee surgeon who I met on the following day. He and his father were the best orthopedic surgeons around and they knew what to do. The following week I went in for surgery and they had to cut my knee open on both sides in order to properly remove the cartilage. I was on crutches for 6 weeks afterwards. They sent me home with orders to put two cans of string beans, in water, into an old sock, hang it over my ankle and work out with leg lifts every day. At the end of the six weeks, my muscle tone had returned, the pain went away and I could walk again. It was a miracle.

About 15 years ago I was Foreman on a framing crew and when I walked off of a deck the 2x10 walking plank kicked out on me and I fell about 10 feet on frozen ground and against the foundation. I went to the hospital and they got me over to see an orthopedic surgeon in Springfield who looked over the x-rays and ordered an MRI. A couple of nights later I got the MRI and the next day I visited with the Orthopedic Surgeon again and he told me I had tore the cartilage in my other leg and gave me a cortisone shot and said "if it gets to really hurting you, come on back and we will remove the cartilage". I have had no problems at all with that knee.

Now on too my wife's experience. She goes to her Doc with a sore knee but her Doc is really a PA and refers her to the same Orthopedic surgeon that I had 15 years earlier. The difference is she doesn't see the surgeon but instead she is seen by his PA who gives her a short of Cortisone and sends her home. Soon she tears the cartilage even worse with much more pain as she is now getting around only with the aid of a walker. Her last PA now prescribes a MRI and an appointment with the surgeon. She now has an appointment with another PA to discuss the now impending surgery. Just before the surgery the surgeon meets with her, looks at the knee, the MRI and explains the surgery. This photo is inside the knee showing the tear on the left Monday we go to a hospital extension bright and early and we meet the anesthesiologist and the real Dr comes in and signs her knee. After surgery the Surgeon came in and explained what he did and they gave her a bunch of pictures of the inside of the knee. She immediately was walking with the aid of a cane and she recuperated at home for about 3 days and then back to the orthopedic center for the appointment. There we met with another PA who observed the stitches that the nurse had just removed and he explained what the pictures were all about. It was pretty obvious that this guy could care less how she was doing or anything else. Just putting in his time. It seems that you don't get to really see Drs. anymore as they are blocked by a whole bunch of PA's.

I have been with my regular clinic for 25 years now and have had 3 primary physicians none of whom I have ever met. I just meet the PA's. Something has changed?

Pet Peeve Day

Today is the day that I have chosen to share with you some of my very insignificant pet peeves. The first one is "fast food liter". We live next to an intersection that is fairly busy. The first thing in the morning we get a large rush of folks heading off to work. The rest of the day and most of the evening we get college kids going everywhere and they seem to be the worst litterers. This is a picture of what I usually find on the street everyday. Usually it is McDonald's or Burger King but today Wendy's gets the spotlight. Lucky them. The secondly photo is a closeup on top of my trash receptacle before I tossed it in. I noticed lots of Advertisement for the fact that the food all contains zero transacts but nowhere does it say "Do Not Liter", not that it would make much difference with college kids because apparently most of them can't read.The thing I have continued to notice about these, treasured remains, I pick up is they usually contain lots of french fries. For some reason the kids don't eat most of their fries? Why buy them? Ordering the meals without the huge order of fries just has to be cheaper. I'm just saying.

This morning, as I gathered in my morning newspaper, I found a Yellow pages . com telephone book on my front porch. As I went by the side door and porch of our home I noticed more Yellow pages . com books on our side porch. The back door which is close to the office door surprised us with two more books. Inside these building we already had 6 Yellow Page from Verizon. Today was our normal recycling day and all of these extra yellow books made their way to the recycling bins. Great timing but what a waste in the first place

Molly

How can you not love a face like this...

This is Molly, a 10 week old, minature, red daple daschund that my wife just purchased for us. My wife didn't think our lives were complicated enough so she went out and bought a new dog. My daughter must share the blame because she went out and found the dog for her and then called me on the phone, reporting her find, hoping against hope that I would be excited. When I wasn't they just ignored my "lack of excitment" and turned it into a positve response from me and thereby getting my "stamp of approval" on their project. A Dachund I, reportedly, said it was OK to buy, was our new family pet. We had two before and they were truly great pets but we didn't need another pet. I'm old and have enough to do without another pet in the house and now we have three.

Below, Molly meets her competition, 1 year old Bridget

Above, Molly lounges on our grandson Sam's back. Life goes on!

Project Update

You deserve an update on the New Floor Blog. Sunday we went back to Lowes and purchased paint but the crutches did not work very well for my Wife so she used one of the motorized carts that are available. I went to the paint counter, with my paint chip in hand, while she elected to peruse the rest of Lowes with her electric cart. Later I found her coming down the main concourse with three new stools in her basket, the crutches in the basket and her purse between her feet. What a sight! I tried to pretend that I didn't know her but it didn't work. We loaded the paint and headed for the checkout line. She explained to me that since we had given two of our stools to daughter and family we needed backup stools at our house and these were only $17 each. I have provided you a photo of our new stool and one of our existing stools. It seems that the new stools are the wrong color and a little bit high so that they need a color change and the legs cut off. The project grows.

Monday we started painting. Daughter Ellen arrived, Lou, who I work with, and I all started prepping, painting, repairing sheet rock and cleaning. We made good headway as by 4 everything had one coat on it. Everyone helped, even Dale but the pain was so bad in her knee that she frequently had to lie down and rest. She has a Dr's appointment for Tuesday that she had made several weeks ago so may be they can do something for her. Bridget even did her part as she picked up everything that fell on the floor, took it into the living room and promptly tore it apart. I noticed a partial roll of blue painters tape seemed to get her attention the most. She likes paper towels and the remains of one or two lie in the debris pile. UPDATE: We are headed for Lowes to exchange the stools and get more ceiling paint however they will still need to be painted. ANOTHER UPDATE: We just received a $10 gift card from Lowes just to shop there. Think we'll use it tonight. Lowes just happens to be next door to a great Italian eatery.

Just a new floor

We have decided to replace our kitchen floor and the job is going to be way tougher than it looks. I have 40 years experience to back up that statement, so we shall see. As a bit of a primer you will remember that my wife is the Superintendent of the Cemetery and I work for her as the Maintenance Superintendent and the cemetery, as part of the job, supplies us with a house. This is not any house but is one that was built around 1830 or you could say circa 1830. The house is actually 3 houses moved together as occurred a lot back in those early days. Talk about recycling! To move into this house I had to remodel it and bring it up to code, which I did. That was 11 years ago and now a lot of things are failing or just plain wearing out. The budget was woefully short, so cheap was in and you get what you pay for, don't you? The kitchen was no exception so a Home Depot "Peel and Stick" floor was installed and the area of highest use has just plain wore out so a new floor is ordered. We chose to go to a flooring contractor and have them install the floor as the new interlocking floors are beyond my area of expertise. The system is guaranteed to be maintenance free and should be good for 50 years.

Simple enough, don't you think? Well, we are required to remove the existing floor tiles and the last sub-floor that was laid. Lou and I dispatched all of that in about 1/2 day and neither of us were seriously hurt in the process. So far, so good. Well: the paint is a little worn and dated [white] so perhaps we might want to change it; the cabinets were donated and I repainted them when we installed and that color doesn't really go with the new floor now does it; the same goes for the trim; by the way we don't get much use out of that Jenn-Air that is on the counter top and if we removed it we could gain some valuable food preparation space and that will require about 4x8 of new Formica; and while we will be set up for Formica how about a new top for the coffee table. This project went from sitting back and watching the flooring contractor deal with the uneven floor and then enjoying it, to a light speed expansion of a full grown kitchen remodel complete with deadlines. She is even talking about the sink.

Paint selection was the first order of business and I suggest we go down to our local ACE hardware store and make selections. My wife and I came back with a half dozen paint samples and chose our color combinations and here entered our daughter to approve of our choices. In the photograph the background is the existing Formica, the square sample is the new interlocking floor and the long sample with the orange colors are what my wife and I chose and the second from the bottom orange is my choice for the wall paint. Our daughter did not approve of orange colors and suggested we go to Lowes that evening because they do a better job of color co-ordination over there. Its a bit of a haul over to Lowes but we wrapped it around supper out and it took a bit of the sting out. We hit the store in mass [5 of us] and drove off all of the other people that were there selecting colors. Here I have to digress a bit [this is always my favorite part] and tell you about what happened next. My wife made friends with a kind of "rustic looking" lady. My wife is nursing a torn cartilage on her knee coupled with arthritis and so I had provided her with a shopping cart, out in the parking lot, which was making walking bearable. This "rustic looking" lady, who was helping her daughter pick out paint colors picked up on my wife's crippled looking state and asked her some questions about her maladies. When I looked over I just saw my wife holding hands with this "Rustic looking" lady. I summed it all up and decided that the rustic look was due to the fact that she was probably a "Gypsy" and was after my wife's money in her purse so I stationed myself so that I could observe her and the purse at all times and close enough to spring into action should the need arise, as I was sure it would. I watched as my daughter spied her mother holding hands with the "Gypsy" lady and do a double take but then return to her color swatches on the wall. The "Gypsy" lady's daughter was close to my daughter and I pegged her as being the person that was positioned to block me while her mother fled with the purse. I noticed her look and my wife and her mom holding hands, shake her head and go back to looking at color swatches. I was confused. I noticed that the "Gypsy" lady was now holding her hand on the back of my wife's neck and I noticed my wife's eyes were now closed. Probably a secret knockout hold as it looked like something was going to happen and it did. The daughter abruptly turned around, walked over to her mom and said "lets go mom I can't find anything I like" and they left!!!! Meanwhile my daughter was showing us the colors she had selected, which was the smaller sample with the brown which was to be the cabinet color and the stripe below the white stripe is a pale green and that will be the wall color. We said we liked it and we left. My wife announced that the pain in her hand was gone and her entire body was relaxed and feeling better. She was really glad she met that lady because she was a massage therapist and took pity on her? How did I manage to misread that one?

Today is Saturday and we were going to start painting the cabinets and the wall but my wife hurt her knee even worse than it was and is now on crutches. She isn't going to be much help and neither am I as I spent the day waiting on my wife. Tomorrow doesn't look any better. Daughter is free Monday because it is a holiday and she said she would help. Oh ya, we have a floor to ceiling bookcase that holds my wife's cookbooks that is white so that won't work now will it? Problem is, the bookcase is made out of white melamine and that doesn't repaint so guess who is building a new bookcase.

Come back because I am sure there is more to come on this story. All true, I swear!

Shaving gone crazy

Here I am at 8PM standing in line at the cosmetics counter inside my local Walgreens Drug store waiting for the clerk to get off the phone with her husband. "Why am I here?" you might ask. " Well I am here waiting to buy razor blades of course. It seems that my razor blades, Gillette Mach 3, are such a highly pilfered item that they are kept behind lock and key in a secure cabinet guarded by armed Pinkerton Agents with only the Cosmetic lady having the secret combination. "What happened to my shaving needs?" I asked myself as I waited. For a long time I used a shaving cup and brush and shaved with a single edge razor blade. Over the years, I switched back to that method more than once but my wife or someone would buy me an electric razor and out the window would go the brush and cup. The different electric razors I used were each very good, for a while, and then they would mysteriously get dull. I suspected people of the opposing sex, daughter and wife, would secretly start using my razor which would cause it to go dull. All that you can do with a dull electric razor is change the shaving heads but that never seemed to work right, so in the garbage they would go. I always noticed that when I threw my razor away, both wife and daughter would soon be sporting new electric razors?????? I have tried just about every type of shaving instrument that was ever made. The last I remember about my razor purchases was buying double sided blades and experimenting with different type of shaving creams. The next thing was I somehow got on the Christmas list as needing razors and my wife,bless her heart, slowly moved me up the list with the purchase of; single edge high performance blades, to double edge high performance blades, to triple edge high performance blades with a name to make me think I am shaving with a jet airplane. There are now blade cartridges with 5 blades out there but I have forbid her from purchasing them. Tonight I paid $10 for 4 cartridges. Each cartridge lasts about a week.

As usual, when I write I head for the Internet to check my facts and see if there is anything else out there. I hit upon a web site called The Onion which bills itself as America's finest news source and had just done an article on James Kilts CEO and president of Gillette Company and the article speaks to the shaving blade wars. Check it out at Gillette CEO . A double edged razor blade only costs .16 cents and lasts through 2 shaves which means my shaving costs would be $2.40 per month instead of $10. Time to think about changing back again. I wonder where I can buy a shaving bowl and brush? Probably eBay.

Step 2 Machinist Mate School

Somewhere in the great bowels of The United States Navy lies The super secrete organization called "Bureau of Naval Personnel". NAVPERS as it is fondly referred to by sailors made our life choices for us prior to leaving Boot camp. Dickson, you are going to be a Machinist Mate and go the the Great Lakes to learn. Dalby [my joining up with buddy] you are going to be an Electrician and stay in San Diego to learn. Anyway that seemed to be the system that was used as we got our orders in boot camp and learned where our next duty stations would be. I headed for South Dakota, via Greyhound, from San Diego where I would get some time with my family before I went on to Chicago and learned to be a machinist mate?? Didn't have a clue what a Machinist Mate was but I was sure they would let me know real soon. Leaving SD, after enjoying Christmas, I boarded an airplane bound for Chicago. My father was a frequent fly-er into Chicago and helped me. He told me after getting on the plane to go right forward towards the front of the plane and right after the bathrooms I would find more seats and to grab one of those. Most people didn't know about them and they were larger and more comfortable than the back seats. He was right and it was a nice trip into Chicago and I usually had a least one stewardess sitting with me and visiting the entire way. I included the photo of the SD plains to show you the airplane prop in the photo. Yup, we were still in the early days of aviation but I will say that I never flew again on a plane with such comfortable seats. My Dad had arranged a room for me at The Sherman House on the loop. I remember fighting the bell boy for my sea bag when I checked in. I really didn't have any money to spend on a tip. Made my own way to my room. Got to watch "The Platters" as they were playing in the hotel bar called "The College Inn". No money but I still had a great time.

I hung out at the Greyhound bus depot because I could afford a hamburger there. I was there having coffee when A light skinned black person struck up a conversation with me and after a while said "want to go over to my place and order a pizza?". He would pay. I thought that would be OK and he got up and went into the bathroom and said we would go when he came out. When he was gone a pretty young waitress, who I had talked with before, came up and laid her hand on my arm and whispered "Don't go honey, he's a queer and your not going to like his pizza". Could have knocked me over with a toothpick as that meant he was a real live homosexual person. They had taught us about them in boot camp and some where along the line one of my "more worldly buddies" had told me to watch out for them but this was the first time I had met a real live one. He had told me "if one tries to pick you up, hit them as hard as you can and then knee them in the nuts as it would be OK to do that and the authorities won't bother you". He said he had done that numerous times himself. I was dumb struck as this was big time stuff when your a kid from South Dakota. The man came out of the restroom and I said "no" to him and he left mad, glaring at the waitress's as he headed for the door. I turned towards my waitress and said "I'm kinda new to all of this big city stuff as I'm from small town out in ......" She held her hands up in the air and said "that's OK honey, we know" as she nodded her head towards the other two girls who were watching all of this with much amusement. I slowly sipped my coffee, running everything through my brain, trying to figure it all out. She came over with the coffee pot and as she poured I said "you know he seemed like a real nice guy" and she laughed as she looked at me and again said "that's OK honey, we know, we really do". Trouble was I didn't.

I arrived at the school the next morning and spent the remainder of the day, after I had checked in and got my bunk, shoveling snow because A pretty good snowfall was occurring. When I was a San Diego I had one blue stripe on my shoulder to let the world know that we were recruits, lower than dirt. As we left Boot Camp we had been awarded seaman apprentice rank patches which meant we had graduated and had increased our pay one step, which was still next to nothing. I also got to put a screw above my SA patch which meant I was a Machinist Mate striker and my stripes and screw were red, which meant I was a snipe. I didn't have the slightest idea as to what a snipe was. All I knew was that it was some kinda bird and if anyone ever tried to get me to go snipe hunting I was to hit them as hard ................ In the next 90 days I was taught everything I would ever want to know; steam, water, valves and pumps plus a whole lot more. One of the tidbits we learned was "nothing sucks, not even the Navy" as they were trying to make us learn how pumps work. The poor quality photo is the steam plant control panel of the system we worked on and I would see a few more of those before I got out of the Navy. We were engineers and our stripes were red. Snipes! If you were involved with airplanes you were called "Air-dales" and your stripes were green. So it goes in the Navy. They worked very hard teaching us to be good steam mechanics and the lessons did stick.

Photo is our Barracks.

Liberty was very good in the Chicago area and about half of the time I went to Milwaukee. In Milwaukee we would take the train or hitchhike and head for the USO as there was always a dance there on the weekend complete with girls, coffee, and cookies. It was from there to the Eagles Ballroom, I believe it was called, as we could usually find someone to get us a bottle to mix with our punch or coke. Chicago trips were more of a cultural thing as I would head for the Museum of Science and Industry as they had a captured German U-Boat there that you could walk through. I probably spent 6 days in that museum and never saw it all. If I went back to Chicago for some reason, my spare time would be spent in that museum again. What a great place. To prove to you that I even had some class I have included a photograph from the World Flower and Garden Show at the McCormick place. I have a couple of rolls of film from that show, as it was impressive.

A High School classmate of mine, Norman, was stationed in Chicago somewhere going to Army drafting school. I would hop the train and end up at the base for the weekend. I would sleep in their barracks and they would obtain a mess pass for me so I could eat. We hung out at their enlisted persons club drinking cheap beer then heading downtown afterwords to frolic as befit youth of our age. It was always a cheap weekend for me, as they all were, because we Machinist Mate apprentices didn't make much money. This last photo is me in Downtown Chicago.

Pokemon International trading

Earlier this afternoon, my family and I were having lunch at our local McDonald's using their latest coupon book which allowed for a basic buy one and get one free. I glanced down at my grandson Sam and he was playing with his DS. The Nintendo DS [according to Wikipedia] is a handheld game console developed and manufactured by Nintendo. . So I said "what's he doing?" and my daughter replied saying "he is using his DS and Wi-Fi to trade players around the world??????? I then answered her answer with a question "Say WHAT"? I remembered that McDonald's had installed Wi-Fi [it is a system that allows you Internet access from a laptop computer or obviously from some game consoles] a while ago, which I assumed was in competition with Star Bucks as it would encourage people with laptop computers to come in and hang-out a while. Sam answered by shoving the DS screen into my face to prove that was what he was actually doing. All I could see was Japanese writing on the screen and Sam said "that is who he was trading with and they were trading Pokeman players". It was obvious that Samuel was quite pleased that he knew and I did not. At this point the women got up and left for shopping [Saturday afternoon and All] and Sam and I opted out because I had my truck and we both hate shopping. We stayed at Mickey-Dees for a while as my Grandson was continuing his down loading and I was enjoying visiting some friends of ours from the church. She asked me what Sam was doing and I answered "Talking with some kid in Japan I guess". When we got to my house I quizzed Sam on his trades: he traded a Level 100 Palkia.for a Celebi Makes sense to me. Sam is 10 and I am 64!

All's Well!

Across from our daughters home is a very nice park called Parker Park and is set up with memorials to all of the veterans from all of the past wars. It is filled with the memorial stones, benches, hedges, trees and a waterfall. It is a wonderful place for children to play. Yesterday I was over at my daughters house doing some work and as I left I noticed a group of children playing in the park. I could tell they were playing by the screams they were making. I leaned across the hood of my truck to watch for a while and figure out what game they were playing. There was a boy leaning against the central flag pole with his eyes closed and was counting out loud. Counting to 50 I believe. There were children darting in all directions looking for the perfect place to hide while the boy counted. Some kept changing spots, darting to another, better spot as the countdown continued. Finally I heard "Ready or not, here I come" and the boy backed away from the flagpole slowly looking around, searching for a tell-tale foot sticking out or a bum being to large for the bush selected, and seeing none he started, slowly moving in my direction. I could see a young man, frozen against a tall bush daring not to move, as the slightest movement would cause the leaves to shake giving away his location. As the central character continued my direction, he walked right past the young man trying to look like a bush, by about 10 feet. He turned and saw his adversary and gave chase both hollering and yelling as they raced towards the flag pole which brought other children out of hiding and they all raced towards the safety of the flagpole. [Atop this pole was a beautiful, huge American flag, waving in the breeze, but I'm sure the irony was lost to the children]. The tagger was trying to touch any of his playmates before they reached the pole but in the confusion he didn't appear successful and a huge argument erupted. "I touched you, no you didn't". Someone hollard "All in free, all in free" and the remainder of kids came to the flagpole from their hiding spots. Soon the excitement of the moment had died and a different boy was back to counting and the others were all scampering off to find the perfect hiding spot again. It was obvious they were playing hide and seek or Oley, oley oxen free, or Tag or it. What was nice for me, as I watched the play, was the knowledge that some things just don't ever change. In this fast paced world we live in, we need a few things like that to keep our feet rooted to the ground. I felt good as I climbed into my truck. Safe in the knowledge that all is well.

Just a bottle of water!

Last night our family went to our favorite purveyor of books, music etc. Barnes and Noble for a recreational evening of reading, sipping coffee and buying a few books. Maybe I might have the opportunity of tearing apart a worthy opponent on a subject such as "who might our next president be?", or learning a few valuable tidbits from some passing Master Carpenter or even a water color painter. It is always a pleasant adventure and a lot of times we buy nothing more than a cup of coffee as we while away the evening hours curled up on one of the many chairs available or just simply enjoying the magazines racks and the new adventures available in the magazines we never have the money or the time, it seems, to explore. Someone always comes by and puts the magazines back for you after your done with them. I found two books I was interested in before I was 25 feet inside the doors. I quickly gathered Joseph Wambaugh's long-awaited return to the LAPD with Hollywood Station, in paperback, and Stephen Colbert's I am America (and so can you!) both of which I could not wait to peruse over a good cup of coffee at the Starbucks Cafe. As I settle in with a hot cup of steaming Joe, I was joined by my favorite Grandson Sam who like his Grandpa, knew what he wanted as walked in the door. Sam said "I am really, really thirsty Papa, can you help me out?" I handed over a fiver and he disappeared for a few moments as I went about trying to figure out just who Stephen Colbert was. Back he came, plopped down the change (without being reminded) and started enjoying his bottle of FUJI water as he become quickly engrossed in his book. A bit later, when I realized I couldn't figure out who Stephen Colbert really was, I glanced at the receipt as I slipped the change into my pocket. "$2.50 for a bottle of water!" I shouted, causing the covers on every laptop in the joint to slam shut. I regained my composure and quietly asked Sam for a taste of his water. He handed it over, quickly, and I savored a small sip. "Tastes just like water?" I asked to no one in particular but I think I was expecting at least sparkling water. Sam just looked at me with a puzzled look trying to figure out what he had done wrong. Still in shock, my shaking hands turned the bottle over, looking for some type of explanation. On the backside I found something. "Untouched by man. Until you drink it." the advertisement bragged. "FUJI water comes from an aquifer deep within the earth on the remote islands of Fiji. Bottled at the source, natural artesian pressure forces the water through a hermetically sealed [italics mine as it reminded me of the old Johnny Carson show] delivery system free of human contact. It is never exposed to the environment. At least until you unscrew the cap." the ad went on. "Hokey, hokey" I uttered as the words popped out at me. I was in financial shock. I returned the bottle to my Grandson and he returned to his book, relatively secure in the knowledge that he probably hadn't done anything wrong and I was just being "Grandpa" again. I could still read the back label of the bottle and I was trying to put it all together as to what the value of the bottle and contents might be to justify $2.50. I am not a connoisseur of bottled water as I rarely purchase it. There is a principal involved here as I feel that most of the water in this country is pretty tasty and is FREE. I picked up my receipt from the table and saw that my "Coffee Tall" had only cost $1.65 so I will bet that it had been brewed with free water and not with FIJI water or it would probably have cost me $4.17. I don't know where to go from here with this problem. Writing this post has really helped but there is still something unfinished inside of me. I would write the FIJI company and protest but I would bet that it will not change anything and to top it all off I realize that this bottle is contributing to global warming however it does have a recycling mark on the bottom.

This is as good as it gets!

Bridget

You will notice, by the photoon on top, that we have a new addition to the family. This one is a she and her name is Bridget. ½ Yorkshire and ½ Shiatsu and there is absolutely

nothing she can do. Scarred to death of her shadow and every noise that there is. We have her enrolled in “Puppy Kindergarten” and she has been to four classes and can’t do even one trick. Talk about throwing good money after bad. Her one redeeming quality is that she hassles Purrsey, the cat, on a constant basis.

You will notice, by the bottom photo that she has changed a bit in the past 6 1/2 months. Today she can do a few more tricks. She knows "sit" and "stay". It was us that failed out of puppy kindergarten. She still hassles Purrsey, the cat. They now play well together and about every morning they wrestle. We have become very close buddies because I'm the one that feeds her, takes outside, walks her and now she goes with me in my truck.

Pay Toilets

I was visiting with a couple of old friends yesterday and we were talking about payphones and how they are disappearing when suddenly it hit me "Where have all the pay toilets gone?". Beats me, they just left for some reason or other. My friends remembered pay toilets, because they were both old but a 30 year old visiting with us didn't even have a clue about what a pay toilet was. Time for some research about where they went.

I don't think they went anywhere, they just changed the doors. It appears that A campaign by the Committee to end pay toilets in America [better known as CEPTIA] resulted in laws against pay toilets being enacted in many cities and states. In 1973 the first American city to enact a ban was Chicago. Lobbying was also based on the discrimination against women. CEPIA was successful in obtaining bans in Ohio, California,New Jersey, New York, Minnesota and Florida. Only in America could people get together and form a committee to ban pay toilets.

In some cities, during the Middle Ages, there were sellers of public toilets who were equipped with a large cloak and a bucket. For a fee, one could use the bucket while hidden by the cloak so you can see that the idea is not necessarily a new one. It just appears that we were the only ones to outlaw them. In the United Kingdom it is technically permitted to charge for use of toilets, but not for the use of urinals. Pay toilets on the streets may provide urinals free of charge to prevent public urination. Pay toilets never left Europe or Asia. They still have pay toilets in Mexica.

A few US cities are trying to get them back and according to American style they cost $250,000 each. Takes a lot of dimes to pay for one. Thats a lot of poop.

In Philadelphia there is one catch -- a 20-minute time limit. Reading "War and Peace" isn't an option. A digital clock with bright red numbers, resembling those used at basketball games, counts down the time remaining. In this arena, there's no overtime. After 20 minutes the door opens to passersby on East Carson, although recorded messages give ample warning that time is running out.

The floor of the APT, made of aluminum and coated with nonslip vinyl, is hinged in sections like a large conveyor belt. After each use, the floor moves on rollers and is sprayed with disinfectant. At the same time, the toilet bowl turns 180 degrees and also is disinfected. The whole interior is dried and 40 seconds later, it's ready for use again. And you were wondering "how could they possible cost 1/4 of a million dollars each"? The mind wanders. What if everything went haywire while you were, well, you know? A rotating floor, spinning toilet, jet sprays.... A Swedish company has one with glass walls you can see through. But it was thought that some users might be intimidated, worrying that if they could see outside then people could see inside.

New York State outlawed pay toilets in 1975 in response to the charge that such facilities discriminated against women. Women always needed a stall, while men could make do without, opponents argued. "Maintenance is not a big issue, vandalism is not a big issue," Szeto, of the New York test project, says. "The complaint is that some of the toilets are being used for illegal activities -- drug use, prostitution, that kind of stuff -- generally in areas where those activities are already a problem." As in Queens, there is also an aversion in individual neighborhoods. "Everyone thought the toilet is a great idea, but put it in someone else's front yard," said Szeto.

Flem!

After lunch I was pressed into service to make a beef stew for my daughter, son-in-law, grandson and us. I make the very best beef stew! It was a push to get it all done so it could simmer the proper amount of time as I also had to get on the other side of town to pick up our grave heater from a friend that was sand blasting it. I also had a job about 50% done [hanging a door] and I wanted to finish it today. I had just put the stew on simmer and was already savoring the first bite. I was trying to determine which bread should go with it tonight. The phone rang and it was our boss reminding us of the Historical Society meeting tonight at 6:30. The meeting would consist of a meal [stuffed chicken and not my favorite] and a speaker. We would go to the meeting and take 1/2 of the stew to our daughters family and save the rest for us tomorrow. Talk about blown expectations. I headed for my door job where I was replacing the old cedar, lap, siding around the door with new cedar. I was nailing the siding into old oak lap siding, 100 years old or so, and it wasn't going well at all Almost every nail was bending. I headed to the lumber yard and bought stainless steel nails at $7 per box instead of $3.50 and gave them a try. They worked but I had lost so much time on the bent nails it was time to think of a shower.

I was rushing to get my tools put away, put the materials away [cedar siding] and get to taking a shower as no one needed to smell a sweaty carpenter at the meeting. Reminds me of last night when we were suddenly going out with the kids to Taco Bell as I was informed, by my wife, as I walked into the house. I said "do I need to change my shirt or anything". She said "naw you look OK, unless you smell". I said "unless I what"? She walked up to me and almost put her nose in my armpit, took a sniff, and said "go put on a clean shirt". That really took me back as she has never done that to me before. I told out daughter on her.

Getting back to my story I showered and put on clean clothes. Looked rather spiffy, I might add. All green and mean. While I was taking a pee, I coughed up some flem and spit it out. It was kinda sticky so it hung together. It did a backwards double flip off my bottom lip and landed square in the middle of my, clean, green shirt, right where my belly protrudes out a bit. Quickly I attacked the problem by reaching down grabbed the offending flem chunk with my thumb and 1st finger and flicked it into the toilet. That would have been fine except that's not where it went. It bypassed the toilet rim and landed right, square, in the middle of my right, brand spanking new, shoe. I grabbed a paper towel and cleaned up my shirt to a spotless condition and then I lifted up my right foot to the edge of the toilet and wiped off the offending flem from my shoe. I checked myself out, in the mirror, and looked absolutely breathtaking so off to the Historical Society meeting we went. On the way I had to drop off a urine sample at the hospital and I'll spare you the details on that one. I reported the story to my wife and she felt it was worthy of a chuckle.

To make a long story a wee bit shorter, I jump back to our house after the meeting. I was getting ready for bed when I stood up in front of my wife with my arms wide open and said "how do I look". The reason for that was to have her inspect my shirt, with a discerning eye, and decide whether I could wear the shirt again tomorrow if necessary. My main concern was salad dressing or other food stains that were withheld from my inspection because of my robust shape. With a disinterested and annoyed look she said "Your shirt is OK if you need it tomorrow". Then she shouted "No it isn't, you've got snot all over it, remember, throw it in the dirty clothes hamper". I retorted,"It's not snot"! Get it, "it'snot snot?" God, I'm so clever I just kill myself sometimes.

Freedom

Today I got to spend my day as part of the Jury Pool for the Hampton County Court system over in Springfield MA. It was a privilege! We don't often get the opportunity to participate as part of the independent judicial system but once every three years they give me a call and over I go with my heart in my hand, welcoming the chance to participate.

I filled out the questionnaire that they sent me in the mail and the only part I didn't like was the questions about my involvement with the criminal justice system. I have to tell them about my employment as a police officer and as a criminal investigator for the Attorney Generals Office, but it all but guarantees that I will be dropped during the jury selection process. I really want to serve on a jury. I read the Juror's handbook they sent and all but committed it to memory but it didn't help. When the circuit court Judge came in, to give us our charge, and the bailiff commanded "All Stand" I was the first up on my feet, but that didn't count either. The Judge thanked us for our service and said "For you that don't get called today, thank you for participating because if you were not here we wouldn't be having court today!" It is OK if I don't get called today as I just want to be here, doing my duty.

There were about 175 of us in total and apparently we all lacked a little bit of common sense. At noon we were given and hour off for lunch an we all headed for the elevators to go down from the forth floor. We all waited for the doors to open, and we waited and waited but the doors didn't open. About 30 people headed for the stairs and walked down but the rest of us waited for the elevators envisioning that we would probably beat them down. We waited and waited and finally a young guy in front of me walked over and pushed the down button and two of three doors opened in about 10 seconds. Wow, we all applauded him. My only complaint was that they allowed cell phones in the jury pool room and the coffee machine was broke. Our bathroom was very clean but one of the faucets didn't work and would not shut off. Every time I went in it was running, and I went in a lot because of the water pill I take. In the afternoon I went in again and it was running and I decided to fix it. When I turned the faucet the proper direction the water shut off. Wow, as this was kinda like the elevator incident.

Anyway it was a good day and I got a lot of reading done. About 2/3 of the crew got called but not me. Maybe next time, in three years.