The Store I Call Wally World

Yesterday I went to a Superstore to get a can of spray paint (brown and cheap). I'm not going to give its name but it starts with W and ends with T.  So from now I'll just refer to it as Wally World. 

 I parked close to the door where I knew the paint dept. was. Went in. got the cheap paint and headed to the cashier. I was told 2 times by a Customer Service Agent that they just closed their register even though their "light" was still on...

Frown....

I ended up being served by the closest "open" register WHICH ENEDED UP BEING ON THE FAR END OF THE STORE.

Double Frown...

Do you think I left without saying something? Well, if you did.. You don't know me as well as you thought you did....

Finding the Customer Service SUPERVISOR who was sitting behind a counter MUCH CLOSER to the door I came in, COUNTING HER MONEY. Yes, I waited until she was into counting her $20.' s and I shared with her my concern... She looked up at me with a frown and I could tell she was upset because I made her lose her count.

After sharing with her my concern which I made sure was long and drawn out I said "Oh... I apologize for making you lose your count... guess your going to have to start all over again aren't you" Bet your feel kind of frustrated right now, don't you?"

And I turned with no more frowns but a smile on my face,  I walked my way out the door which was close to my car.....

Yes... I'm getting old and mean... but I hope she got my point...

Onward Thru The Fog..
Johnny

After-Thought:  : At least the Cheap Brown Paint WORKED WELL.

Henry and the Visitors

At the State School where I worked as a young man there was always something to laugh about. 

Life and working there and was always interesting.  You have to understand that laughing was in many of their minds a pressure release and "messing with people" which was in most cases were taken in jest and was a way for them to be able to accept who they were and accepting being there.

There was a "client" there by the name of Henry.  Henry believed that he assisted with the Administration of the School so he of course dressed the part everyday. He always dressed in a suit and carried a briefcase everywhere he went.  He would walk the streets on what he called "doing a errand for the Superintendent". 

One day... I and several of the "boys" were sitting on the lawn of Dorm 6 just watching the world go by...   Down the sidewalk came Henry with the always present briefcase.  As he approached I noticed a unfamiliar car coming up the street behind him.  The two elderly couples,  two men in the front seat and their wives in the back.  As they approached  it was obvious they were looking for a certain place on campus. 

To our luck both Henry and car meet just next to where we were sitting... The man in the front passenger seat called out to Henry as they came to a stop.  Henry turned and the man asked if him if he could direct them to the Recreation Hall?  Henry turned, looked down the street and in a very dignified manner gave them the longest route I think they could have taken on campus since the Rec Hall was only about 300 yards down the same road. 

After he gave them the directions he asked "Would you like for me to call ahead for you and let them know that you are coming?"  The man said that would be great and thanked him for his help.  Henry turned.. walked over to a metal light pole, put down his briefcase and pretended to pickup a phone receiver and dial a phone number on a "ghost phone" that wasn't there.

 I heard him say... "Ethel... This is Henry, I've got 2 couples on their way down there... Could you kind of keep a eye out for them??????

We all tried to keep a straight face as Henry turned back to them and said "Ethel wants to know who it is your coming to visit so she can make sure their there." 

By that time the car was easing away and I swear all four people had sunk a little lower in the car seats. 

Henry turned look at us and said "Well... how rude... I hope they don't find it.",  turned and continued his walk down the street after of course picking up his briefcase... Henry never went anywhere without his briefcase. 

I can see it playing out as if it were just yesterday....

Thank you Henry,,, for helping me better understand life and learn the real meaning of the old phrase..  Ask a silly question... get a silly answer....

Johnny

The Other Boys In Our Past..

I talk much about my brothers, our parents, and others in our family in  my little jaunts into our past.  But there were some other "boys" that just about each one of us, my immediate family, who also left their marks on the inside walls of the our head.

The "State School" was what it called by most in that area.  After you car climbed the tall hill on the Farm Market Road the campus sat just on the left, its open gates and green lawns with the fishing pond gave one the impression that life down that winding road surly was a place of comfort and a place were the State had  made a place for who need a place for coping with life that was, "just a little bit different" then ours.

 We called them "The Boys", because in most of their cases their mental capabilities, somewhere along their way,  had stopped them from reaching adulthood.  We called them "boys" because that in reality was what they were even though many of them were well into what we now call our "Senior Years".

At one time or another just about everyone in my family had taken on the challenge of working there.  It was a place where you learned a lot about what life can be like for others and how it is so important to help take care of others who are not as fortunate as ourselves.

I first worked there in my last year of High School, going each afternoon to the Central Kitchen and helping to prepare the evening meals, then serving the meals to them in the dining rooms that were attached to several of the dorms that they called home.  It was a abrupt awaking to me of just how lucky I was to have a "normal" life outside of those walls and fences. 

Several years later, I returned to work there helping with the caretaking of a group of them who lived on a specific dorm.  These were the "higher level boys".  Most of these boys held down small jobs in one of the work programs on the campus that allowed them to keep themselves "busy".  It also gave them a pittance of a salary which allowed them extra money that was above what their "state" monthly allowance provided.


Add caption

No matter what though, each day came and went just about the same as the day before. Up early, dress for the day, breakfast then off to work.  For the ones on the dorm that did not work we tried to keep them "busy".  Playing games with them, a couple hours of trying to teach them "life skills".  But mainly just making sure that their days went be un-eventful.

In the afternoons, the "working boys" would return for supper, and then about 4 hours of recreation time.  Our job then was to supervise them and I found myself wanting to "entertain" them.  I would take a small group of down to the Recreation Hall for evening dances on Fridays or movies on Saturday evenings.  Some employees would bring their "clients" and go to sit along the bleachers to watch over their "boys" from a distance.  I couldn't do that. I felt that it was part of my job to be with them and interact with them.  On Sunday afternoons I would take a small group to the pond that lay just inside the front gate for a couple of hours of fishing. 

 Never did I have to worry about one of them "running away" even though there had been instances where I feel a few had gotten "lost" and wandered away from the school in the past.  In most of those cases the surrounding community did their part and would report the sighting and in many cases keep "an eye on them" until someone came to get them and bring them "home". 

I enjoyed working there and learned a lot from the experience.  More then anything else I learned to be humble and a strong sense of understanding that everyone needs help every now and then.  I guess that's why even now, if I see one who seems lost or un-certain of their situation I found myself wanting to say "Can I help you?.. 

I guess I do that because I remember the looks and smiles of those "boys" when they understood that they meant something to someone, and the hope that when  and if I am ever in the same kind of situation, someone will come to my aid. 

Isn't that part of life? Being here for each other?  Knowing that you can make a difference maybe in just a small way.

 Sometimes it takes so little to let others know that you really do care...

Johnny





 

Yesterday.. A Veteran from the Korean War arrived at the resort with his ball cap with "Blue with Gold lettering on it, just as I was picking up my clients.

 I walked over and thanked him for his time served and  that I would be proud to carry his bag in.  It only took a minute of my time, considering the time he had spent doing his duty to our country. Isn't it funny how when you approach a person with a extend hand in friendship that the other person smiles, just about every time...no matter what happens from that moment on, they know your someone who cares, 

It doesn't take much to let people know you recognized them for who they are and what they have done. But then again... It can be offered to anyone and it has the same effect on most people doesn't it...

I have no problem with  greeting of the "shoulder bump" but that you can do with your hands still in your pockets... The offering of a extended and open hand has been around for centuries showing to the other person that you are weapon free and are willing to share a "personal contact" if only for a brief second.  Maybe we ought to go back and start using it again and do it more often...

I wish there would come a time and place when we felt comfortable enough with each other to lay down our arms and but I'm afraid that time will never come... But at the same time I feel that those who "Serve to Protect should be recognized not just one day a year but everyday.

They did not go into places unknown to "protect us" just one day a year. They went until the threat was no longer there so that we could be certain that "threat" did not make its way "over here".

Get to Know A Veteran..
Hire A Veteran...
Take Care of a Veteran...
 Recognized Our Veterans... For Who They Are and What They Did for All of Us..

To The Best Of My Recollections

Be it known that my writings regarding events from my childhood are based on MY memory...

It has been brought to my attention that my "memory" which may not be totally accurate or at the best of times have "lapses" reaching out past what would/could be considered by many as "out of the ordinary or "hard to believe", but they are shared with hopeful understanding that they are not meant to be totally accurate nor factual but a story meant to be entertaining.  That is what in many regions as a "Storyteller".

Now if you know Texans, it's a pretty well known that "facts" are based on what the storyteller is trying to get across to the reader...   Very little is "Set In Stone" or "Hard as Concrete" A Texas Storytellers "facts" are kind of like "Texas Caliche" a type of ground surface found throughout the region which sometimes, when it is wet, kind of gets a little slippery...

Thus the same as the "facts" of a Texas Storyteller..

With that in mind my disclaimer is that my stories are besed on "To The Best Of My Recollections" or other wise know as T.T.B.O.M.R.


Thanks for trying to understand me....

Johnny



 

That Ain't Funny

As a boy on the ranch there were certain talents that you needed to survive. We were lucky enough to have a very long stretch of the Colorado River that bordered the land that we lived on. So that meant that of course you needed to know how to fish.

Now there are different ways to fish. You can sit on the bank of the river with a single pole, attach a grasshopper, or a worm recently un-earth from behind the pig pen (best place around the house to find the biggest worms) and hurl the bait out into the deep waters of the river and wait for whatever type of fish decides to come along and nibble on the bait and with a good tug at just the right moment the fight would be on.

My mother enjoyed this way of fishing. She could sit and set a line or two out, not to far away from each other. Then she would watch them while smoking her cigarette and make small talk about what ever seemed appropriate at the time. Now, there was one main rule that Mom had if you choose to go fishing with her. That was, that once your bait entered the water, and by the time its ripples could not longer be distinguished, you could not speak above a whisper. Because..... the fish may hear you....

As for me... that wasn't fishing.... I found it very hard to just sit and watch the end of a rod to see it twitch as the tale-tale sign that something had come my way. It seemed to me that tempting the fish with a glob of worms or drowning a grasshopper just didn't seem sporting. That and it drove me crazy to sit still for that long. Years later, society came up with a name for boys like me. It was called A.D.D , Attention Deficit Disorder. My Mom had another name, she called it H.G.A.I.H.P. "He's Got Ants In His Pants", because I just couldn't sit still.

I felt that a fish needed to be hunted... Sneak up on them with a lure and fool them into attacking the object. I would travel up and down the banks of the river looking, thinking, and figuring out where I thought the fish would be lying in wait watching for something to come within its range. In my mind, that gave the fish a standing chance, and gave me a good reason to keep moving.

I felt also that for a boy to get the advantage over a 'smart' fish I had to practice my casting abilities to be able to place a lure in just the right place in front of the fish to fool him/her into believing that it was something real that had made the mistake of passing it's way. You may ask how I determined which fish were 'smart'? Well that to me was obvious. The smarter the fish, the longer they lived, the longer they lived... the bigger they got... result, a Smart Fish. So when I caught a large fish,well that only meant I was becoming a better fisherman, which in a young boys world, was a claim to fame. Follow me? But of course.

Now, I could not stay all day on the river practicing my casting styles, I also had chores to do and games to play back at home. So in the evenings, when everything else was done, I would venture out into our back yard with my rod and reel and practice casting a small plastic frog with the barb of it's hook embedded deep with it's body. The target was usually a piece of loose leaf paper, no.. not my homework, so that the wind would catch it and move it to another distance from me, thus giving me several angles to practice my casting.

Well, one afternoon the wind was dead still so after a few casts at the paper I became bored, remember, ADD. Looking around the back yard I made up the idea of using the corner of the house to represent a big brush pile along the riverbank. I prepared to cast just past the "brush pile" so that with a couple of tugs on the rod the frog would come hopping past the target and land in the would be fishes domain..

With the first cast. the fake frog landed about six feet past the corner of the house. With one tug it hopped about three feet. I smiled, and though to myself, "dang I'm good" and again popped the tip of the rod slightly bringing the frog right to the corner of the house just as I wanted it to.
That was when I smiled and was about to "mentally" pat myself on the back when Mom's favorite Tomcat which claimed the backyard his domain, came flying (I swear it was two feet in the air) and pounced on the FAKE rubber frog.

Now.... I, being the talented fisherman that I was did and what just about any other fisherman would have done in that scenario, SET THE HOOK... on my now.. CAT fish. For a brief second.. I found this highly funny until I realized that he was headed back around the corner of the house to the opening to the crawlspace that allowed us to go under the house.
 
For the next twenty to thirty minutes my brothers and I crawled and searched for the CAT fish under the house finally catching him ( he wasn't in the best of moods by that time), nor was my Mother who had heard the commotion and came out of the house and found out what I had done.

Finally with Cat, Frog and boys out from under the house safe... Mom proceeded to tell me that Dad was going to hear about this when he got home and I knew what I could expect...

That was when I decided that.... That Ain't Funny....

Side Note: The cat lived a full life with just a small "hair lip" but did seem to disappear every time I came out the backdoor with my rod and reel ever since....

Boys... will be Boys.... What can I say.... Raised Country, Raised Right

Onward Thru The Fog...

Johnny

If Something Doesn't Taste Right.. Change the Ingredients...

 Long ago....  I can remember my Mom tasting one of her meals and saying... "Well,  I'm sorry,  that just doesn't taste right... I'll have to "adjust" that recipe and she would until she got it right. 

My Dad would say "If you have time to do it twice.. you had time to it right the first time".

But today... I hear the favorite phrase of the generation "Opps, My Bad" with a kind of half-smile. But I then see them do the same thing again and their response is "Opps.. My Bad."  That phrase has become a way of saying..'OK.. you caught me but...well that's me... and I'm not going to change.' 

The effects of these actions are here to see and feel. Feelings are hurt, others have to do what the person is suppose to do, allowances are given, excuses are made, or we feel the need to adjust OUR lives to allow the person to continue to make the mistakes over again with, in many cases, expecting to be allowed to be "overlooked" while choosing to make even more mistakes.

We were given a brain to not only keep our body functioning correctly and running smoothly but also to understand that we are capable of making mistakes and figuring out how to not make the same mistake again. 

What many of us have done is forgotten that "mistakes" means something needs to be done to ensure it doesn't happen again if possible,  or has our society come to the conclusion that each of our actions, no matter what it is, should be "acceptable" by others?

What happened to our Social Standards?  Where and when did our society reach the top of the hill and start going down the other side?   What many of us do not understand that, just like in the real world, very seldom is each side of the "hill" the same height nor angle.  In some cases, the "other side of the hill" slopes a lot faster, is longer and due to that,  our "speed" increases.  Hopefully, we have the foresight to see what is happening... And we start applying the brakes...

Before we are out of control..

When are we going to admit that Something Just Doesn't Taste Right and start checking to see what ingredients and spices will make it right again...

Onward Thru The Fog....

Johnny