I love a parade...........

I don't recall... (which, at this age, can be skeery).. I don't recall EVER, hearing a snotnose (that's the age where one is able to standup on one's own, thru Brownie/Cub Scout age.).. tweens (that's the age, torn between still playing with plastic army guys, or, peeking at the Macy's undie ads when there ain't no one lookin.)....... (TBC)

I don't recall EVER, hearing parents (that's the age between, "Oh hell, now what?".. soccer mom/dads, "Earl, we gotta STOP, or, get a 3 row vehicle", to, the age where they finally iggy ""Watch this!" and "Are we there yet", tears, "Jimmy's hitting me".. they're vested, vested by practice, discipline, don't mess with me any more." (TBC)

I don't recall, EVER, hearing a geezer, (them's the ones that cried way back when for three days 'cause they sliced the kid trying to put on a cloth diaper.. now, they don't commute, set alarms, run, jump... and, in a few decades, have changed their reply on "Can we get ice cream" from NO, to... SURE!"

I don't recall ANY O' THEM....... saying, "DO I HAVE'TA GO?" at parade time. AI learns me, and I dunno how they know 'cause they ain't been around long enough to see many parades... but they learn me "People enjoy parades because they foster a sense of community, nostalgia, and shared celebration." Not bad AI, high five... the hell is your arm?

Some snotnoses, after a quick diaper check, getta get up on dad's shoulders for the best view... others, enjoy the freedom of blocked off streets, no leash needed provided they don't stray far...  

Tweens, I ain't real sure what tweens do at a parade..  but thankfully, it's usually NOT looking at their phones, so it must be something like pinching the derriere of a friend, or, ripping off their fruit loop.  (Victor, fruit loops went by the wayside even before lava lamps came in.  Oh. Thanks)

Parents.. Rejoice cause they ain't at work.. Harken back to their own childhood mems... or, drive the tractors, convertibles.. or, run the street sweeper at the end.  Sure, crappy job, but, they getta see the whole thing closeup at the very start whilst they wait.

Geezers.  They enjoy watching snotnoses and tweens frolic here to there, and rejoice in that they don't have to be hall monitors any more.  They're sitting, which, is among the most favorite things we geezers do.  Watching the energy, we say YIPPEE and remember when we once had it... female geezers love looking at the $127 dance costumes of the littles, and, remember back to when they sewed them themselves with material from TG&Y for 7 bucks.

Floats, firetrucks, marching bands, little's schools of dance, entertainers, town dignitaries (usually geezers), clowns throwing hard candy that their dentures say "hell no" to..   beads - "Don't you dare Gladys." Cop cars, Vettes, Model T's. There's something for everyone.

A break. Abby normal, but, normal.

Calgon, take me away, John Philip Sousa (Victor, you left an L out.. bite me, look it up).. SUNSHINE... happiness... 

There ain't one thought about............Breaking news......... war......... homicides...  "taste great" "less filling" vein showing Facebook argue.....  mortgage rates... how much gas will cost to get home..  The price of tea in China.. If I hear the word tariff I'm knocking  you on...............

A shining, personal break from personal things that really hit home... illness.. upcoming treatments.. . affliction.. the needed new left hip.. .  memory loss of loved ones..... and, most of all, loss.  At least until the street cleaner comes.. .which, reminds, there's virtually shit in everything in life............

But......... we can live the life as if we're at a parade.  Pardon'a mai' French, makes all the shit not quite so bad.

Victor, must you cuss?

It's real. It's at intersections, LOUD sometimes, damn kids (that we once were).. memories of Uncle Jim and his "ahhhhhhshit" sneeze.  Of profanity, Chickenman says "IT'S EVERYWHERE IT'S EVERYWHERE"

Except.

At a parade. 

Victor?  Victor? VICTOR?!  WAKE UP, the parade is almost over!

Hey Mister?  Mister?  Yeah?  That snotnose on your shoulders... Liam, ain't that his name? Anyways, me thinks mebbe his diaper has leaked through.  DAMNIT!  Sir, there's no cussing at a parade.

Yeah, you're right. Sorry. 

It's all good.. the street cleaners just came thru. Back to real life, dangit darnit.

(Then again, with the right outlook, even real life can be a parade) 

Love, Victurd 

All things being equal................

Well....... they ain't.  Never have been, never will be.

I'm fat. She's skinny.  He's rich. DAYUM she's tall.  That guy could do standup, I swear... I come close to losing my breath from laughing. dayum near pass out when he gets on a roll.

I don't really find him funny, but, whatever, and I'm not offended if you do.

D.  D lost his job at the plant because the owners, having difficulty getting employees to fill openings due to the extremely rural nature of the plant and the city it was in, were pretty much forced to shutdown and relocate to a more urban location. D's wife worked nights at Casey's, slept during the day whilst the kids were in D's hands, or, at school.. he'd fetch em with him when he went to Dollar General to grab some groceries... and he was always embarrassed when he had to get out his EBT card to pay.

K.  K was in line behind D... noticed he'd included a bag of chips.. and a 2 liter of Pepsi.  With EBT card in one hand, D pulled them out of the cart with the other, and K exhaled that exhale of disgust as if Uncle Sam himself had opened her purse, grabbed a five dollar bill out to pay for them.  R stood behind K who was behind D.  D was putting his cart up, making sure his kids held hands as they walked to the car...  R, who was behind K, who was behind D, had paid, then walked over to D...  without knowing specifics.. said, "You're a good man friend...I can tell the kids love you... I'll bet they enjoy those Fritos, I sure did when I was a kid.. and, hey, I loved Snickers too.. so here's a couple of 'em for you.. I won five bucks on a scratcher ticket, paying it forward to your kiddos!"  THANK YOU SIR!  D felt better.

V, were you being judgmental about K? Maybe, forgive me Father.  She's certainly entitled to her opine, I just don't 'get' that she has no idea of his situation... and, I don't really think chips and pop is/are an overreach, as in 'foul'. And, on toppa that, I thought the exhale was in pretty bad taste, even if a belief. But again, I understand MANY share her belief.

H.  H is a young man, Junior in HS, happens to be black.  The only black in his school.. the only other black child in the district is his 6th grade sister, P. H and C sit by each other in two classes, have become really good friends, take breaks together.. and recently, C agreed wholeheartedly and thankfullly to go to prom with H. C's parents basically flipped out.  Bugged them so much, they got an appointment with a psychologist to see if he had suggestions on how to get C to stop liking H. (TBC)

Much to their surprise, the Counselor suggested C wasn't the one in need of counseling, they were.  

All things being equal, they ain't.  

V was trying his hand as a girl's basketball coach. An admitted neophyte, he spent hours reading books, going to coaching clinics, yada.  DD was his point guard, not bad, and, the team was actually fairly successful in the first year. DD's folks, and DD, teased and joked with V, and it was a two-way enjoyment kinda thing.  The next year............

DE moved into the district.  She was a freshman, and pardon the French, one helluva basketball player.  In fact, she supplanted DD as the starting point guard on the team.  It was an easy decision, everyone could see it, well, almost everyone. By season's end she was voted All Conference, First Team.

All things being equal, they ain't.

V allowed DD and her folks, to make life, the team, the culture, a living hell.  The end game was, they made it somehow. V was 25 at the start of the season, turned 43 (or so he felt) by the end of the season.  Shoulda woulda and coulda booted DD off the team for conduct. Didn't. 

Life, nor blogging, comes with GPS.  I'm a lover of diversity, yet, I know many, ain't.  Never, would I attend a meeting of a certain political party, yet, i have many, MANY a friend now, and over the years, that would, and do.

Much, doesn't interest me, but, I'm perked by your interests.  We all take paths to those interests, and, along the path toward that interest, we can meet, visit, talk, even love others, who ain't enroute to the same interest meeting.  We can, and do. 

I love that.  I love the 'take a moment in life' of life.  I love turning the corner in Piggly Wiggly, only to come upon someone from the dinosaur days of High School.. we didn't hang then, really don't now.. but, much, much in common simply due to the era.  Generally, that's accompanied by, met with, smile.

Smiles are good, even if all things ain't equal. Clothes, money, position, rank, don't make the man or the woman.

Ideally, we could sit in a room, naked and get along.  Not knowing if BMW, crotch rocket scooter, Ole Buick.. Louis Vutton, Nike, or, Wally brand.  No ID on bank balance, Bible of choice, or not, living in sin, or Cincinnati.  

OK, right you are. the naked, it was actually a 'josh', sorry, kinda. ..for MANY reasons, perhaps better we keep our clothes on... Maybe t shirt and shorts eh?  Besides, some rooms are really cold.  You pervert, I was talking COLD, not shrinkage.  Then again.  All things being equal, they ain't.  But some things are left better for the imagination, as, there are perverts out there!

T Shirt, shorts......... room.  Two people. Friends along the way.  Means kindness.  Understanding.  Listening, really listening. Talking, even if that can be a struggle.

War had a song in 1975 that said, 38 times in fact, Why Can't We Be Friends.  The resta the lyrics is made up of differences.

At the risk of sounding like Joel (and you may really like Joel I shouldn't say that, did, sorry, kinda)..  all we need is a drummer........

No, that ain't it.  All we need is a room.  T Shirt. Shorts. A path on our way to get there.  Happenstance.  Sit. Kindness.  Greeting (which, is almost spelled g r e a t.)  A handshake or a hug or a peace sign or a simple smile (which, sadly, ain't so simple sometimes)... 

All things being equal, they ain't.   But,  Why Can't We Be Friends?

Victor? Yeah?  You mean, EVEN be friends with a weird blogger?

Uh huh.  They're harmless.

Love, Victurd 

Urn the other cheek.........

My take......... and........ well, damnit, that's what blogs are...... blogger's take... my take in this instance.......

If you've come here with some frequency, first, I ask... "The hell is wrong with you?"  

Then, you'll remember I overdo stuff.......  the 'two beers at the Landing'...    sports, way too much..  love for little kids..... pets.. even cats!  LYRICS.  It's like chewing on a gummy, they get stuck in there somehow.

And, obits.

Obits is, are......... a two, three, four paragraph summation, of howintheheck one spent their life on our planet.

Most........... are prim, proper.  It's kinda like dressing for church... ya put on good stuff..  Shouldn't have that final take with collars and cuffs a mess... scuffmarks on the leather shoes... wrinkled knee pants...   Strawberry syrup stains from Denny's.  Nuh uh, no sir, don't. Stymie halt.  No can do.  Ya got one, ONE shot, to do it right, correct, within reasonably specific guidelines.

I vote, patooey.

In fact, one'a my favorite recent obits I read... stated...  "Life was never a straight line."  (If Fred Flintstone were an undertaker, I'm quite certain he'd agree, rejoice with, "Yabba dabba cadaver!")

No parking by the sewer sign, hot dog, my razor's broke, water drippin' up the spout, but I don't care, let it all hang out.

Like:

He much preferred the company of Cocker Spaniels over people.....

He enjoyed gardening, The Rolling Stones, and.. dumping an entire fifth of Old Crow in the punch bowl at Church.  

He had an addiction to sticky notes... He'd steal a bundle from work... He'd leave sweet nothing notes to his lady... uplifting, 'go get em' quotes for his kids, grands... and, once or twice a year, he'd drive to work, park in the Owner's designated spot, and leave a note "I had to pee.. REAL BAD."

Education was important to him... in fact.. he 'Babbled" his way to fluency in Korean, Chinese, Vietnamese with the express intent of walking into a nail salon... preparing himself so 3/4's of the way thru a pedicure, he would sing (in the corresponding Korean, Chinese or Vietnamese) either "God Bless America", "Bohemian Rhapsody", or sometimes even "You put the lime in the coconut and drink it all up", he'd mix it up.. . all, much to the chagrin of the little gossipers who'd been talking about him, giggling their way thru the entire pedi.  All in fun, he tipped well.

He (and his spouse) enjoyed fine dining, dancing, and an occasional cocktail.  Darn near ever Friday night, they'd go thru the list of upcoming weddings, pick the one that looked the richest, in the biggest church... put on their finery... walk in (not knowing anyone).. and eat, dance, drink. From this.. over the years.. he got two job offers... three new golf partners.. a seven figure 401K thanks to their untapped entertainment fund, and many a hangover.

He was emotionally deprived as a toddler... his mother was wonderful but quick to softly admonish when deserved.. , he'd be sitting in the seat of the cart in the store, would yank any, everything he saw, wanted, into their cart - and of course it was followed with "no.. put it back please."   This possibly played into his later in life aversion to tossing things into the carts of unsuspecting shoppers..  you know, at Kohls once he threw a three-pack of neon thongs into a granny's cart..  a 36DD lacy bra into the cart of a 5'2", 90 pound hotty...   and... he' d drop an unopened CD of Carly Simon's You're So Vain into some dude's cart that looked like maybe he earned it.

Perhaps his prized possession was his cardboard cutout of Bernie.  "They" would sit in the front porch swing and visit...  go on float trips... driving trips to nowhere in particular in his Tesla, with Bernie at the wheel.

Never ever a fan of "You Can't!" he would attend his neighborhood HOA meetings (remaining silent).. but soon after.. "Watch me!".. he'd pay his cousin Eddy fitty bucks to park his RV overnight infronta the HOA Pres's house..  he'd pull her trash bins out on Friday (Monday was trash day).. and he enjoyed spray painting her mailbox in psychedelic colors.. and, once every six months or so, hookup a clothesline between her Mercedes and her next door neighbor's Escalade and fill it with overalls.

He didn't really have a police record, but, over the years, he was tossed from three movie theaters when they spotted his squirt gun... came just shy of being up on assault charges at a teeball game when he threatened the mother of a seven year old after she'd screamed at his son (the umpire) at the top of her lungs.. and then that time he got pulled over for speeding, chose to remain silent, "speaking' to the cop in ASL.

Strangely, there was even one obit where the funeral was gonna be at night... hence, "We'll leave the light on for you."

Love, Victurd 

Understanding "A hill of beans"........

Awhile back....... oh, forty pounds or so... hella wrinkles ago...  I was a wet behind the ears punk, briefcase totin' dude with fancy resume' in hand.  Thankfully, landed a job at a nice, family owned company, largely in part to having gone to the same college as the President of the company.

Day 1.  All well and good.  Observation. Notes taken. Actually got to do some hands on diddies....

Day 2.  Meet with owner (actually, owner's son, who by now had taken over).. a direct boss.. and a coworker.  Conversation was going along ok, then, somehow I (ears still wet back there) related, "well.. I don't think this (this and this) is gonna work... we needta do this (this and this)."  Echoing in the background, me thinks I heard the song "All of me... why not take all of me."  Then....

Boss... owner dude... not quite as impressed with my take as was I, maybe some disagreement in me rearranging the procedures he'd setup........... looked me in the eye, conversed, and somewhere along the way I heard......."I don't need you."

That.  That's how I learned about 'A hill of beans'... as in, you ain't, it ain't, worth a hill of beans." 

Pride is hard to swallow, but, remember... I was job huntin' prior, which, means "Feed me Seymour, I ain't had a paycheck in a minute"... so.. I swallowed, made note." 

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As life, the World, turns... we 'cipher' quickly with our brains... "time is precious at any age.. but now, we measure... .yay/nay, do I need this? Want this?  Does this interest me?" 

The beloved local paper (The KC Star) this morning...  four articles on a hunnerd and sixty eight possibilities of who the Chiefs might draft tomorrow night.  Reading all about the 168? Not no's but hells no's, a hill of beans.. I DON'T NEED YOU.  Perspective.  It's kinda like prematurely picking your lifetime honey... you know, like, in 3rd grade. Although I will admit, I thought it was love at first playgound chase. (TBC)

Come time where, "The Chiefs are on the clock" Thursday night.. .well.. that's more akin to....   Senior Prom, you and eight buddies just pooled hard earned dollars from stackin' hay bales the previous summer so you can rent a limo for the night........ NOW, we're talking.  Closer.  Closer anyways to, "Is this the real life... is this just fantasy?....."   Good, important beans, regardless.

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And, I'll end with (OH, you're welcome) one final story where I ended up with bean syrup on my face.

I talk, and love, my grandkids.  I mean, who doesn't?  Most times, I walk the walk.  NOT SUNDAY.  Color me an idiot.  I worked 9a to 3p.  Tired, yet, no excuse. Right after work, my duty was to pickup my grands at ex's house.. fetch them back to Topeka, almost 3 hours round trip.  I'd texted, "Get off at 3, be there shortly thereafter."

3:14pm, I pull into the driveway.  I honk.  Nuthin, not a creature is stirring. 3:18pm, I text.  Nuthin'.  3:22pm, grandson finally comes out.. "It's gonna be a bit.."  I ain't had blood pressure meds in a few years (my excuse for semi-irritated answer) "HOW COME?"  They're eatin'.  Pretend this -> is larger type "GEEZ".....  My selfish brain switched to "They KNEW I was coming shortly after 3, couldn't they have eatin earlier?"  Absolute, on purpose, quiet set in.

3:34pm, all three grandkids in tow. A silent, idiotic grandfather pulls out.

What little wisdom that is left in this 73 year old brain, talked to me.. "Victor.. you don't see them often... today, when you finally DO get to see them.. you demonstrate being an ass by allowing 20 minutes of your day to paint you "You ain't worth a hill of beans." (TBC)

"And I'm talking, you ain't CLOSE to bein' Bush's Best beans.. or Hunt's Beans.. you ain't even Best Choice Beans... you MAY BE "Always Save Beans".. you know, them are the ones everyone buys and takes to homeless shelters.. .and them dudes won't even eat 'em." 

I feel worse than a Royal's 8 game losing streak.  Worse than hearing, many years ago, "I don't need you."

Forgive me Father........... and, grandkids.  I am human, hear me snore.. and I promise, I'll be better, happier, funner............... next time.

Love, Victurd 

Life...... Libra....... Scales... It's all a perfect balance ain't it?

 

Yes, I am that, Libra'n born.  Wiki done learned me "The symbol of the scales is based upon the Scales of Justice held by Themis, the Greek personification of divine law and custom. She became the inspiration for modern depictions of Lady Justice."

SHE? Well all KNOW I'm a misogynist.. that's what Jimmy in Arkansas calls me..  VICTOR, git ridda your dirty laundry. (Don't say laundry, I JUST DID five loads...... hate it.)

Back to Libra... we all know the Clifton Keith Hilligass version.. VICTOR?  Whothehell is that? That's Cliff.. the orginal CliffsNotes guy.. he actually grew up in GBR Country, ifn's you know your athletic abbreviations.

The CliffsNotes version of Libra is basically balance and justice.  Just like life eh?  Yes? No? You have the right to remain silent? (Why don'tya then Victor.) Bite me.

Tastes great... less filling.. we need equal parts, votes of each. And, they can't fist fight, then justice would have to step in.

Life is weird.  "911 what's your emergency?"  "Well... there's a basket with 15 people in it in my backyard... and... it's attached to a hella big hot air balloon."  Nuh uh.  "Uh huh."                   versus, cops pull into lemonade stand, buy two glasses from the kid, hand him a ten dolla' bill.

Newton, Grundy I think it was, says "For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction." That's all about Libra.

Pennies from Heaven. Not no more.  Did you know they quit makin' em?  So, the opposite reaction is, "we will round to the nearest five cent increment."  Yeah but... the hell do we do with Penny Lane...... JC Pennys...  Penny Marshall (I mean hell, without no Laverne ya can't have no Shirley...  don't call me Shirley.)  Penny slots...  Penny for your thoughts?  Sorry, we tariff'ed that, it's a nickel now.

That's all well and good Victor, and we get the balance, equal and opposite but, that ain't got nuttin' to do with justice.  Seen any copper thieves of late?

Speakinowhich......... the NFL Draft.

Huh?

Yeah, always interesting.  This guy is can't miss... an assured Pro Bowler for years... No he ain't, he's got alligator arms.  (Oh whatthehell, I'll keep my misogynist rap.. and, there was worry about Miss America in a swim suit?)

Back to balance......

Little turds... fresh outta the belly.  Them bones ain't hardened yet, and, there's built in padding (baby fat) for slips and falls. Oh, might get an occasional bump on their noggin', and, anything smaller'n a teacup better be at least 6' off the ground or it'll be in their mouths once they get upright............ versus.......

Old turds. We take Tim Conway steps.  The 3 inch 'partition' tween the bathroom floor and the shower is a sonofagun. Should be a geezer Olympic Sport, I mean, hell, Curling? London and Lloyd Bridges falling down will in all likelihood result in a 911 call (or a tug on whatever that bracelet is we geezers wear) and, a new hip.

Victor, two paragraphs, not one damn word about justice.   Wills, Probate, relatives never speaking to relatives again. Funk, Wagnalls, line and sinker.

Recent, Facebook Swap and Shops ads.......  PRICE FIRM. (Smokefree, petfree home.).......  MAKE OFFER.. (4 cats, 3 dogs, we smoke like fiends)

All things being equal.....................  are they ever?

Dr. Seuss say, "Life's a great balancing act."

Einstein say "To keep your balance, you must keep moving."

Actual video below... Liberty High School Class of 1970 fifty year reunion, Football team on a seesaw.  Them, and the Pep Club, had flipped a penny (someone still had one) for the right to go last... Football team lost, had to go first.  Those of us that could still walk a tad after, gathered around John C (our class lawyer) and discussed possible litigation agin' the Pep Club.  Stay tuned.

Be sure to mind your P's and Q's...  Dot your I's and cross your T's.  Oh hell, who am I kidding.  I wish I were an Aquarius or a Gemini... they're known to come outta leftfield, ie, behave in unpredictable ways.

Same ole same ole.. .toodles with doodles.......

Love, Victurd

(Ya might have to copy and paste in a new tab) 

https://www.youtube.com/shorts/KPKjS_6QtUg

  

 

 

 

 

My broker is EF Hutton and.....................

DANG! You haven't paid attention here haveya! i ain't gotno broker..... while you, and you, and you, and you over thereeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee... were busy, facepaced young pups dumping buckaroos into 401K's (YOU CAN'T TOUCH THIS.. DON'T TOUCH IT.. DON'T TOUCH IT.. Ya mean no second mortgage? NO!.. We can't take no funds out and buy a real nice camper? NO!  YOU CAN'T TOUCH THIS.. DON'T TOUCH IT.. )

I was...............................  60 when i thought about being 60.

Pardon my French........... merde.  (AI or Google, I forget which, tells me that's 'sh*t' in French... or, an exclamation of frustration, similar to 'damn', or 'shoot', or that other one.

ie, IB Po', and that's ok.   It's not the way, uh huh uh huh, I like it, but, it is what it is...... I've got my cardboard sign/idea all ready...... Later, I'm heading out to the intersection of The Corner Cafe (just down the road apiece from Aldi's).. a bit past where are the regular beggars like me line up (usually they're at the entrance to Wally... this is the next light)... 

And the sign says you got to have a membership card to get inside.................. no damnit, that ain't it...................... the sign says 

"Forgot my quarter for Aldi's, can you help?"  (I know, I ain't gonna stack George's, but hey, mebbe they won't gimme mean stares.)

On a serious note........ I do get uncomfy at those intersections...  the deep stares into the car...   I'm torn between "Damnit Victor, throw a buck out, true, probably not a real need, but, ya just never know, maybe you would be helping"....  and, the other part of being torn, "HEY! I BE PO' TOO!"

But this blog is really about namedropping today.

Victor, I give up.  You are one messed up dude.

Eh, oh well, mebbe. Prolly.  Sticks and stones........ hurt.

George Brett and I went to different schools together.  That's my #1 namedrop.  What celebs have you seen in 'real life'?  When I worked for an airline........ Lucille Ball (you don't wanna know, she tweren't especially pleasing to work with).. Dom DeLuise...  he was FUN..... FUNNY.  Ferguson Jenkins....... BIG MAN. Wowzer.

I can jump in my car............. ok, you're right....... cripple my way to my car........ ease, grump, groan whilst I get in.  Drive, and in 20 minutes, go past Eric Stonestreet, Bobby Witt Jr, and, he done moved Whit Merrifield's old house.  Rumor afloat, Vinnie, as in Sasquach Pasquantino's house is being built, nearby his shortstop.

NAMEDROP NAMEDROP.

TAG. You're it. TELL US YOUR NAME DROP STORIES!

FOR LIBERTY EYES ONLY!   Huh?  Yeah.  July 21st, our 4th annual Liberty Townie Golf Invitational...  it's a prestigious (HA!) golf tourney I put on............ for.............. fun.  It's mostly guys who played in Billy Barne's Sunday Night beer softball league for 30, 40 years (beer, softball, prolly in that order).. or.. for those who worked, lived, went to school, in LIBERTY. It's by invite only (Hey, color us cliquish, we don't care.) Victor? Wouldn't that be "YOU don't care?"  Correct........... I don't care. Friends. It's for friends.   BUT TOO.. .we are raising money for Liberty's Shop With A Cop... kinda proud of that.  Last year we asked everyone for ten bucks... raised $640, not much, but HEY, helped some kids.

This year, we're yanking 20 bucks outta everyone's pocket... so..  with fitty or sixty of us, we hope to get $1200 - $1300 or so for, a Merrier Christmas for kids in our town.

Soooooooooooooooooooo...  you Liberty folks........ my goal is a seven minute speech about Liberty.......general crap...  year founded... them big buildings.. you know.. the Arsenal (it ain't there no more, was by the river, which, don't bend thru there any more.. No merde, they moved it, cut out the bend......... other big buildings..  The Liberty Ladies College (which, burnt down, now, the old High School stands there..   WJC College... Odd Fellows Home... The Courthouse........... WHEN, WHAT YEAR for each? I hopeta have answers.

Then, I'll try to Liberty name drop...... like..... Bob Barker took Navy pilot training at WJC during WWII...   Carry Nation, ironically, lived catacorner to The Corner Bar way back in the day.... Pavorotti and his voice graced our town (WJC)...  Reagan rode thru.. I dunno... prolly more...

And, no promises, but, I'm gonna try to get up to the Clay County Archives, peek thru old yearbooks, see if I can come up with pics of when the golf participants were actually young.  If I do, I might have to get my "Forgot my Quarter for Aldi's" sign out again 'case them critters charge 25 cents per copy... and, scroll to IB PO'.

That's all.

Glad, ain'tya?

Love, Victurd 

"Does he want anymore beans?"

This, this came from my beloved mother inlaw as I was indoctrinated into the family.  Her way, I think (hope) of officially welcoming, liking me.

As I awakened, and wiped, warshed, 'yesterday' from my face... thoughts raced (does anything really race when one is retired?).. .thoughts raced to Nothing.  Full. Relatives.

So, from the first sentence... "No thanks" (I'm full.  Didn't want nuthin more.  Relative. All three).

How are you and YOUR relatives?  Bright bright bright spots in our lives - and it's my hope you still have many still with us... that you communicate with good frequency.. there is something special, lifelong - about blood. (Inlaws too... in divorce, you NEVER lose your love for inlaws... just the legal relationship to.)

Full. Dunno where you live.....Storms, rain, wind, repeat repeat have made our creeks, rivers, lakes and ponds FULL.

Hail (Hail, the gang's all here), hail and more hail, got folks outta their easy chairs to clear out garages so they could keep the SUV from getting pelted.  There was a pic on Facebook of a car in a driveway (either the garage already had the max of cars in it, or, too lazy, too late to clean a spot for it) and it had a mattress cover AND two mattresses atop - no hail damage for it.

Nothing, is my usual daily retirement plan.  I'm pretty good at it. You?  Ya got any trips lined up?  I'd love to hear.  I've had buddies recently travel to London, Thailand/VietNam, Mehico, Jamaica-man, Vegas, Maui, yum to all. Me?  I'm lucky to make it to the Mall.  Am going to Field of Dreams sometime this Summer, that's a big'n for me.

Full.  Went to Sam's Club, cheapest gas in three counties..  watched, (gulp) with one hand over one eye as the dollars added up... lo and behold, the car infronta me, he was washing windshield, pump RAN OVER... precious 'gold' ($6 at least) spewed out before he could run, stop the pump.  Sucked.

Victor?  Is this the best you can do?

I know, what I thought to. So, I'll scoot.  You're correct.  I'm full of nothing and, that's relative to me bootscooting. 

Please, share any, all tidbits about beloved relatives..... specific gatherings you miss.. where, what town, who's house were they at?  Did you, do you have cousins close in age?  I think back to Christmas... grandparents, their 3 daughters, families, gathered, small living room (but perfect).. FULL... of love, presents, memories. Nothing to forget, and we don't.

Happy Saturday............. us retired folks getta go to bed tonight, awaken tomorrow.. anudder Saturday........ rinse, repeat.  This nothing life is quite full.

It's relative to a good life..........

Love, Victurd 

Here to there........

Life, kinda.... is like GPS any more.  Ya enter a "whereya goin'? point, and then ya gotta define/enter, your starting point.  (Initially, I placed my fingers on the keyboard HERE (incorrectly, one key off)... then, started typing about all that... and it didn't take long to realize my dayum fingers were not in the correct starting position and my typing looked like: kujwm jubs.. ua kujw,,, 

Which, translates to life, some of us have trouble with any, everything from the get go.

Every so often, I drive across the great State of Kansas  (said no one ever, sorry, that was to get Schwabby all grumpy, he's a transplanted Jayhawk.. .forgets his roots)... 

As I'm driving with the grandkid's house as the destination punched in... I have some "Well ahlll be dammmned" moments when the GPS lady with the sexy voice warns "There's debris in the road ahead."  Saved me  a fender or two by slowing down... then, it pops up "Still there?" You can input 'yes' or 'no'.

Same with cops.  "There are police ahead." I'm glad for that and don't slow down because we old people drive slow anyways. "Still there?"  I ain't a fan of driving fast so I always white lie "Yes" when they ain't there any more.

When my brain was exploring the blog possibilities of "Here to there" (skeery, I know) I Googled it too......... it brought up a board game, something along the line of "Even old people can play it."  My first thought was....  well you little piss ant...ya done think "it's over" for us don'tya? Then, I looked at the clock, realized it was prolly about time for whoever wrote that to get up and go to work... so, I farted, took a nap, had a bowl of cereal (sliced bananas atop)... THERE.  That's my Here to There today... touche' whippersnappers, I don't wish debris in the road for your commute.. but mebbe cops hidden on the side of the road.....

Here to there.  I believe most of us are 'in the camp' of......... had someone sat down beside us in our youth... and told us "Now this is exactly how your life is gonna go..." and they visualized an exact Xerox of how our lives here to there actually panned out.. we might retort "There's NO FRIGGIN' WAY!".........

Way. 

Age, I've noticed, rearranges "here to there."  Bedtime.  Movement (lack thereof). Our bods and wrinkles, which, have transended from baby fat wrinks, to taut, flatbelly six packs,  to belly dunlapped over, to grandma's hands (MISOGYNIST VICTOR!) NO, them's Bill Wither's words, not mine. Grandpa's hands be that way too!

I loooooooooooooooooooooove me some wrinkles. Hours, days, months, YEARS of outside play.  Wiffle ball.. recess... sports junk... pic-a-nics, work.. pleasure, gardening.. walks..   much, compliments of Sol!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  and.........

Laughter, smiles.  We are dayum lucky........the more 'pictures', memories, moments, shared love, wunnerful stuff we accumulate day in, day out... we laugh MORE.. and smile MORE!  Thus, them wrinkles are like trophies of Here to there.

Lordy....  I seen me some pics of 'the 50th Reunion of Charlie's Angels'..  my, my my.  I know too, many men get Botox.. 'help'...   to me, that's kind of a sad "Here to there'....  Sure, looking in the mirror ain't as appealing as it usedta be, but, the lines, the wrinkles.. .represent a whole lotta love. good times... .yes, some sadness too... but, a tribute, to Here to There.  I vote, be proud. 

Here to there memories over the years..... yabba dabba Barney and Fred...  Wile E. Coyote.. the Roadrunner... Mighty Mouse..  Superman... Bo Jackson up the wall...  OJ's 'joy ride'... Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin.. Pong, Pac-Man, SANTA CLAUS!..   teeballers everywhere on their very first path to first base.. . Evel Knievel..  Captain Chesley "Sully" Sullenberger III...  the greatness of Tiger Woods on course driving, but, on road driving not so much... 

"Sarah, get me Helen Crump please" to, texting your buddy in Mehico.

At the risk of sounding like I'm preaching (I promise I ain't... if anything, I'm talking to myself)... as we age, oft times when we consider going Here to There we lean more and more to "Nah... I'll just stay home."  If we don't move, we die.

Where are you thinking about going next?

 Love, Victurd 

Prophetic? The glass is neither half empty, or, half full.

Long ago, a screw fell out of the cabinet door that holds every plate, glass, bowl, I own.  Most, would search high/low for the screw.  Nomme.  I cheered, maybe (probably) even downed a beer.

From that day forward, I now use, solely, Solo cups, paper plates and bowls.

A very kind friend, happens to have an English background, recently discussing a blog, mighta been mine, ain't sure... I mentioned using self deprication quite frequently... she laughed... then, told me "Some is good, sure, but (and then she raised her hand up as high as she could) it gets to a point..........." hinting, stop, don't do that, change your ways, that.

Here's where I mention that wunnerful tune by Phil Collins "I Don't Care Anymore"... which, will probably be closely followed by (once he gets over jet lag, just flew home from England) my buddy Pup who will say "Vic, wake up on the wrong side'a bed?"  There's a wall on that side, impossible.

When you're single, divorced (or, perhaps simply lazy) ya do that... ya don't care.

Already this am, I've waged battle with my  youngest niece in Wordle.  We both awaken too damn early, she, her hubby has a Frito route... me, I just always have.  We were discussing rain today... she texted me......."Yep, rain here too... life in 2026, me thinking I hear it raining instead of looking out the window, I Google it!"  Me too! Grease ain't the word, it's 'lazy', at least for me anyways.  Right Phil?

Phil didn't answer.  He don't care no more.

So.......... of course I Googled "things people do that are incredibly lazy."

The VERY FIRST ONE had me in the mirror!  "I bought new undies to avoid having to do laundry."

I'll only steal one or more from this blog - it was pretty good (This is where YOU, the blog reader says, "Victor, you tell it, WE'LL decide if it's good or not.") Fair enough.  There was a pic of a fancified push button light switch.  A gal, when turning in for the night, wrote "I've thrown everything within reach at my light switch and then just gone to bed with the light on cuz I missed everytime.'  As a rock-chucker from long ago, I could see me doing that.

"Sometimes I don't skip ads because I'm too lazy to move my hand.".... "I ate ice cream with a credit card."...  "When I'm selling something online and someone messages me for the measurements... I find someone selling the exact same thing and message them asking for measurements."

"People who throw kisses are hopelessly lazy."  Bob Hope

It was 3am almost 40 years ago.  A month old baby upstairs.  His two parents, 3am mind you, sitting in the living room, each, with cig in hand.  Baby was colicky. When the 14th colic outburst happened minutes later, a very lazy (smart?) husband stared across the room at his wife......."My cigarette is longer."

Short blog today because.... well, I'm lazy.

Sorry, not sorry.. .tell 'em Phil:

Well you can tell everyone I'm a down disgrace
Drag my name all over the place
I don't care anymore

 

You can tell everybody 'bout the state I'm in
You won't catch me crying 'cause I just can't win
I don't care anymore
I don't care anymore, d'you hear?

 

Just a song before I go...  actually a story.  Do you think I, and other lazy people, Mona lot?  How about this fella?

 

The Mona Lisa is one of the greatest portraits in history.  It's so iconic, you don't even need a picture as you can imagine it already.  It's also kinda small.. 30" by 21", the size of  a smallish TV.   Given that it's a masterpiece, you'd probably expect it to have taken a while to paint.  How long do you think?  Six months?  A year?

 

Try 15 years.  For a decade and a half, da Vinci failed to finish his iconic portrait, not because it was so difficult, but, because he was so lazy.  That's not being judgmental. On his deathbed, the great man himself even admitted to his chronic procrastination when he apologized "to God and Man for leaving so much undone."  For comparison, it took Michelangelo a mere four years to paint the entire Sistine Chapel, around 1,100 square meters.

 

The Paul Harvey crap to ole da Vinci is that, in his times of laziness, he used to dabble filling notebooks with doodles and ideas.  Some of those doodles would later turn out to be inventions that have changed the course of history... ie, some actually 'took'.  A helicopter drawing... underwater diving suit..  triple barrel cannon.. parachute... catapult.

 

Hell yeah 'Vinc'! Tell 'em to leave  you alone, you don't care any more, you'll get done when you get done.

 

In closing, I raise my paper cup and say  "CHEERS!"....  I'm headed to WallyWorld for some boxer briefs.

 

Love, Victurd 

 

 

 

Duke, Duke, Duke, Duke of Earl Duke, Duke, Duke of Earl Duke, Duke, Duke of Earl Duke, Duke, Duke of Earl

Sorry, and disregard - was just going thru my brain... I like that part.  1961, Gene Chandler, whoeverintheheck he is.  I was 9.  Pretty sure I couldn't hit those bass tones, but, a hunnerd percent sure I tried.

Good Morning. Is it?

I reckon that all depends if we are Karen, Ebenezer Scrooge, you and or me at age 9, or mebbe even 9 year old John O'Leary.

Who's John O'Leary?

One sec..........

First, one more obit.

Victor, morbid. NO.

Sorry, gotta.

Lived until a couple weeks shy of her hundreth Birthday.  After HS, graduated college, then got her Master's in Speech Pathology.  Spent 20 years helping kids in school with their speech. THAT'S IMPORTANT!  Ya think not?  Howabout asking these folks who struggled as a child... Emily Blunt, Joe Biden, Samuel L Jackson, Tiger Woods, Nicole Kidman, Bo Jackson. Paycheck, but with purpose.

 Then, near and dear to my heart she voluntarily worked one on one with stroke victims to help them express themselves. No paycheck, with purpose. Then, she slid over to help Seniors with poems and short stories as they dealt with diminishing voice quality and volume.

She didn't do much besides that... well... she and her hubby did raise three of their own, and oh yeah, took in another... and..add to that, taught Sunday School, water-skied, tap danced, ballroom danced, played tennis, the gym, yoga, exercise classes. photography (had her own dark room), made sure and visited lifelong friends when they themselves could no longer get out...... and there's a lot, lot more.  SOME LADY!

Now, John O'Leary.

Who?

John O'Leary.  Remember?  The 9 year old? In a boys will be boys unintened accident at age 9, a gas can and a burning piece of paper got together and blew him across the room... semi conscious... burns over 100% of his body............ 1% chance to live.......

Live he did.  Thanks for a village.  A village that included, of course, his family... hospital workers, experts, Jack Buck........  WAIT?  Jack Buck?  THE Jack Buck?  Yes.

He was from the St. Louis area.  Jack had overheard Red Schoendienst talking about it (Red's relative lived nearby John).. That night, Jack went to the Hospital. And the next night. Soooooooooooooooooooooooooooo many prodded, championed John on... including Jack who told him, "You WILL walk, and, when you do, we're gonna have a John O'Leary day at the ballpark."  Did.

Fast forward... years, tears, struggles later - rehabbed houses in STL (quite a feat considering his fingers were burned off).. got up the gumption to ask his lady friend out.. she said 'no'.  Tried again (three times) No. No. No. A bit later, she then asked if they could still go out.  Marriage, kids, love, amazing.

Now..........he's a motivational speaker.  A renowned one.

Everywhere he goes now they ask him about his movie.  MOVIE?  Uh huh. It came out last year.  Rotten Tomatoes gave it an 80. "Soul On Fire."  Was Jack Buck in it, if so, wonder who played him?  Uh huh, and, ever heard of a guy named William H. Macy?  Uh huh, what I thought.. .one'a my favs too. 

John whittles things down to three basics.........

Uno....  Our life is a sacred, awesome gift.

Dos..  We get to choose our mindset in every situation, no matter how bleak it seams.

Tres.. Together, we can change the world.  Starting with our own.

SO VICTOR?

Yes?

You don't always address it.. but, through the cracks, we done seen comments about your geezer scooter..  poor poor pitiful me jokes(?)...   there HAVE been some blogs, you gotta admit, you seem mad at the world..  why me kinda stuff.  Yeah?

Ahm.......

Mebbe.

But, now that I think of it, that's why I'm here.  After the smoke clears.. (Bad pun John, sorry).. Through it all.... even my whiney butt (we've all heard the story of the boy who felt bad and wanted new Nikes, and the one who had a hole in his sole, and, the one that only had one shoestring, and, the one that only had hard shoes, no tenni's.. and, the one who had NO shoes... and then the one who had no feet.

Takes awhile to sink in...........but......... LIFE IS PRETTY DAMN GOOD. Yeah?  

Yeah.

Soul of Fire is available online.. it's like 6 bucks (7 if you count Jack). Much, filmed in our neighboring STL.  I'm a tightwad, I'm gonna check the library first. If not, then I'll rent. Crap, if I can pay 6 bucks for the NCAA Championship game, I can pay for something like that.

Life is good, and every nowandthen, I needs me a reminder. 

Duke, Duke, Duke, Duke of Earl Duke, Duke, Duke of Earl Duke, Duke, Duke of Earl Duke, Duke, Duke of Earl 

Wait for it.................

No. No. And, No.  It ain't whatya think.  There's no amazing surprise, funny story (you should know better if you thought that.), and fer sure no "I can't believe my eyes" story, picture, yada, at bottom.

Wait for it is........................  procrastination.  A struggle, I, (you?) deal with, day in, day out. 

All dogs go to Heaven, and all blogs start with Google, as in, what causes procrastination, how do we overcome it... and, funny NOT, first I gotta get mo' coffee.

"Procrastination is an emotional regulation problem, not a time management issue.  We choose immediate mood boosts over long-term benefits.  Overcome it by breaking tasks into small, manageable steps, reducing distractions and using temptation bundling."

Gee thanks, now I feel better said no one after such gobbledy goop.  Google seems to think we all got good grades, unnerstand that crap... the only thing I took out of it is, to plugin your headphones to the ole Pioneer, then,  stack a buncha Motown records on a 45 spindle (Temptation bundling)  Yeah baby, now THAT, I like. 

Procrastination, procrastination
Is makin' me late
Is keepin' me waitin' 

So, using my C+, M+ skills, the next time I asked Google, "In layman's terms, how do you stop procrastination?" as well as, "share stories about how regular ole regular folks overcame procrastination.... as, it's making me late... keepin me waiting........

First up:  "I got a whole lot better by using Google Calendar."

Vomit. Upchuck. Even though I DO use Google initially to blog, I am sick of it.  Google is akin (at least to me) to WalMart.. .McDonalds.. The New York Yankees..  You're old, I'm old, remember Chickenman? "He's everywhere he's everywhere"  So, is Google, haaawwwkk, patooey. (I promise I did that into my spittoon, not at you.)

I have a hotmail email addy.  Quite awhile back, the multi-colored monogrammed arrogant company (at least they are to me) said, "You can't do that, you gotta have Google."

I don't want Google.  YOU GOTTA HAVE A GOOGLE ADDY.  But....... THERE IS NO BUT. GET ONE.

So, I did, their Gmail thingy.  NO (SOUP). CAN'T use that one.  I mean, how could a gmail account, using my name, EVEN with the "E" on the enda Schultze, be taken. I tried both Vic AND Victor. Nope?  So, I added some other crap to my name, ended with Gmail.  Whew, Gee thanks, I have a Google email.  I NEVER use it.

Then, they forced me to later when I wanted something new.  If you want this (app, link, whadever) you gotta use your Google addy.  I don't even remember it, letalone the password. I've been emailing friends for, oh, twenty plus years, not long after that hideous AOL noise thingy, why, GMAIL NOW?  A year later (teasing, but it did take probably two hours to get it).. I could use, open my Google, gmail thingy.

Six, seven, eight, I don't remember, months after using my Hotmail account, they want it again for something. So.......... thankfully, I'd recorded my gmail addy and password, logged in.

Or, so I thought.

Sorry.  Your Gmail is full, can't open.  Another year (three hours) trying to figure out how to delete emails.  But, howinthehell are you sposeda get any visited too long relatives outta your house if you can't even get in the door to let 'em out?

Sorry, you're going to have to pay $1.99 a month for Google Gmail, it's full, storage costs.. That's funny! Next thing ya know we'll have to pay for water in a bottle, or, air at the gas station. I call BS, but I dunno who to call it to?  DO NOT PASS GO, FER SURE DO NOT VALET PARK IN BOARDWALK OR PARKPLACE (WE, GOOGLE, MONOPOLY, OWN 'EM BOTH). GO STRAIGHT TO JAIL.  FORK OVER YOUR CARD, EXPIRATION, CVC THREE DIGIT NUMBER, AND ZIP CODE, then you can have that app from Google Play (and that get outta jail free card.)

No. Not No's, Hells No's.  I won't pay. I'll find another way. You guys (Google) are POOPY.  

A few months later........... I think I wanted to get the Royal's TV package... 

OK (damnit) and here's my zip code. damnit darnit. 

Back to Hotmail.

TV went out.  Bought a new one.  (Close your ears, yes, from WalMart.)  Get home.  Still undecided about stream provider, studying rates...   Unpacked the TV, wanna watch regular channels until  I decide.  Not to worry, all Hisense TV's come equipped with Google Play (DAMNIT DARNIT, THEY'RE EVERYWHERE THEY'RE EVERYWHERE) you can decide later. 

Finally, choose Disney, Hulu ESPN package (I'm a tightwad)... Just email us from your Gmail to get started.  GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR, but I don't wanna.  Sorry, haveta. Gmail, or, hit the road Jack. 

Victor?  WHAT? Oh, sorry..   This gmail thing has given me an emotional regulation problem, again, I'm sorry.

It's ok, but.......... BUT WHAT?  Dangit, sorry again.   You'd mentioned procrastination... about what?

Well, first off... I'm so worked up now, I think I just missed the trash truck. (That, is what I was procrastinating. and I'm pretty sure they just drove by.)

Well............ can you gmail the company, see if they'll come back by?

i think mebbe, I'll take a nap instead. 

Procrastination, procrastination
Is makin' me late
Is keepin' me waitin' 

(He'll never make it to the laundromat today.)

Bite me.  

(Blogger's note... after rereading this, I think this is either my worst blog ever, or, next to worst.   PLEASE email me with your take (Worst, or, next to worst).. at vicschultze............ hang on, I'll brb as soon as I find my gmail addy. $1.99 a month I might as well use it eh?

So I've noticed...........

Life is good.

And of course, that comes with those moments we wanna crawl up into a ball... spout "leave me alone perty please... I don't wanna 'today' today. My (back, hip, knee, shoulder, tooth, foot, pride, demeanor and meaner) hurts, help, I've fallen and I don't wanna get up, I've got an itchy itchy rash." Them moments.

Don't tell no one, my faith in life, love, hope is assisted daily by reading the obits.

I used to say I read the obits because I don't wanna be embarrassed, make someone even sadder when I mention a loved one of theirs and I was unaware of their passing. We all, by now, have lost someone - and that (the idea of being embarrassed) is goofy - because - ifn's you're like me (First, I would really pray for you if you're like me!).. Ifn's you're like me, I take delight in someone even mentioning the name of a loved one that has gone to the beyond.  It somehow helps keep 'em alive. 

Back to my faith in life, love, hope is assisted daily by reading the obits.  People, are, amazing.  Obits bring "Dang I missed knowing him/her... I wish I had've."  (And maybe, hopefully, we one day will.) To me, anyways, it's remarkable when you use pen, paper to encapsulate the events, the person - between two remarkable dates.  The things you learn.

I did use the word hope because that's true - I get a new hunger for learning any, all about people that are out there.... before each of our time is up. Fascinating.

 Tidbits from today's obits...... Gent was a surgeon... "and once proudly displayed a life-sized cutout of Gene Simmons in his office—because of course he did." ... "life was not a straight line"...   'always (always) on time'...  "somehow managed to both avoid attention and quietly become the center of every room."

Another spoke of traveling, but, delighting in returning home, where, "loved listening to the water gently splashing against the shore and the tranquility of the evening breezes blowing through the trees. "

"He was a natural salesman that could sell blarney to an Irishman."   Another... entrepreneur. cleaned the entire store with a toothbrush, it was spotless...

"very active with Uplift, an organization that feeds the homeless. He drove the van every Wednesday night for 11 years. He knew the people that he served and many had his cell number and they knew if they called, he would help them. "  

"was not a showy man but rather was a quiet man with a dry sense of humor. If you were lucky enough to be near him and hear his side comments, he would be your friend forever.

"faith was paramount to him. He was a vibrant member of Church...  He enjoyed being with the other men of the parish and grilling burgers while drinking a beer with his friends. He was a daily communicant for many years, a beautiful model of how a man of God should live."

Without fail,  one after the other mentioned their greatest joy in life was family. Prayers to all in their loss.........our loss...

i've spent a lifetime kinda hanging out "in the background", not real sure why, mebbe the "better to be thought a fool than to speak and remove all doubt."  More and more though, I'm gonna try (and, I hope you do too IF that's your wish) to get to know the wonderful people we share life's zip code with.

There should be a place, a 'stage' to learn about folks. before, in addition to, obits.  We can utilize regular ole regular life to work on that hope, love, faith in meeting new people, wonderfully 'further, or deeper interrogating' the ones we've already befriended, to - find out more.  Dig deeper. Seedlings of friendship.  Roots, for rooting. Rings, for our years built together.

Live life.  Don't await the sound of the newspaper on the sidewalk. 

Love, Victurd 

 

 

 

People try to put us d-down (Talkin' 'bout my generation)

Just because we get around (Talkin' 'bout my generation)
Things they do look awful c-c-cold (Talkin' 'bout my generation)
I hope I die before I get old (Talkin' 'bout my generation)
This is my generation
This is my generation, baby

This, is an ALT, not to be confused with a BLT.  Aging-Lettuce-Tomato. Stealing the lyrics from The Who... and tips on aging gracefully from Ecumen.  All, thieved. Sorry, kinda, you're used to it.

Why don't you all f-fade away (Talkin' 'bout my generation)
And don't try to dig what we all s-s-say (Talkin' 'bout my generation)
I'm not trying to cause a big s-s-sensation (Talkin' 'bout my generation)
I'm just talkin' 'bout my g-g-g-generation (Talkin' 'bout my generation)
This is my generation
This is my generation, baby

Do something you enjoy every day.  Whenya awaken, thinka five things you're thankful for. For instance:  awakening.. Chili Cheese Fritos..  I can still walk (not far, but I can)..  friends... pets... in any order

My, my, my generation

Work at friendships... congratulate yourself... Embrace change... Learn, exercise your brain continually.  Know yourself.  "Hi, I"m Victor." "Nice to meetya Victor, I'm Victor, and I've seen you do some really stupid crap." "Takes one to call one."  You know what you like and don't like and have the power to emphasize good.

Why don't you all f-fade away (Talkin' 'bout my generation)
And don't try to d-dig what we all s-s-say (Talkin' 'bout my generation)
I'm not trying to cause a big sensation (Talkin' 'bout my generation)
I'm just talkin' 'bout my g-generation (Talkin' 'bout my generation)
This is my generation
This is my generation, baby

Get a massage frequently.  YEAH BABY!  Touch feels good and it's so relaxing.  Be gentle with yourself, listen to your own inner voices and senses (that's some scary stuff eh?) and do what makes you feel best.

My, my, my generation
My, my, my generation

Eat with friends and family.  Prepare food together. Eat the things you like.  Eat smartly, but every once in awhile line up a row of warm chocolate chip cookies and dip them in milk.

People try to put us d-down (Talkin' 'bout my generation)
Just because we g-g-get around (Talkin' 'bout my generation)
Things they do look awful c-c-cold (Talkin' 'bout my generation)
I hope I die before I get old (Talkin' 'bout my generation)
This is my generation
This is my generation, baby

Get sufficient rest.  Living takes work, we all need a break. Laugh and cry, but, more of the laughing. Something about endorphins.

My, my, my generation

Smile, a lot. Pray, daily.  Spend time with other generations, you can learn something new from any age.

 
[(Pete Townshend & John Entwistle) Roger Daltrey]

WHO?  Uh huh.

 (Talkin' 'bout my generation)
(Talkin' 'bout my generation) My generation
(Talkin' 'bout my generation) My generation
(Talkin' 'bout my generation) This is my generation, baby
(Talkin' 'bout my generation) This is my generation
(Talkin' 'bout my generation) This is my generation
(Talkin' 'bout my generation) This is my generation
(Talkin' 'bout my generation) This is my generation

Write. Write a letter.  Write a blog (HOLY CRAP, what an idea).  Write a poem, a journal. Helps ya think, express and generate new ideas.

Dress in current style. (I call BS here.) Travel. Exercise.  Drink and eat...... in moderation. Realize, although your body deteriorates your spirit grows stronger if you let it.  Treat others with respect and dignity, we find it's a two way street.

Cut down or eliminate multi-tasking.  Walk. Get a pedometer and take 5,000 to 10,000 steps a day.  Walk in a pool if it's easier.  Keep your weight at a healthy level.  Don't fear aging, grow to the very last breath.

It's me again.  As I transferred this from the article to the blog, after awhile I stopped trying to insert 'funny ha ha'....It is serious stuff, but... not too serious.  Seems as our physical prowess wanes, the hardest part is the mental.  At the risk of "Dr. Laura'ing, or Joel Olsteen'ing, enlist help, friends, professionals if need be.  Most of us probably have better insurance than at any point in our lives - don't fear using it, as we certainly ain't taking it with us.

Talkin' 'bout our generation.  The best. Greatest music.  The Golden Rule. Character, with characters within.  Creating our own fun (still can).   The want to help, assist, be nice, kind.  We learned from the Greatest Generation then took it onboard for ourselves, and those after us.

People try to put us d-down (Talkin' 'bout my generation)

It's ok.  We know who we are.

Love, Victurd 
 

I see your red door.......

Doors are interesting, that's an open and shut thought eh?

Don't let the door hitya where the Good Lord splitya!  Show them the door please. Knock knock knock'n on Heaven's door..... 

You make a better door than window..... Check your ego at the door....    Get one's foot in the door...  Open door policy...   Shut the front door........

Friend was on a cruise, fire in the kitchen... allofasudden, four hundred and however many doors automatically shut. 

I grew up in the home of an old Dentist..  he was wheelchair bound, so all the door handles were well below regular height. (I know, aren't  you glad I shared that, your life will never be the same.......... sorry... kinda) 

Door dash...  Sliding door..  Storm door... trap door..  

Entrance.  Closed.  Fire door, use only in case of emergency.  Men's.  Women's. Family.  Whichever.

Three couples, 40-something, at the hotel.  Been to the pool, each, drink in hand. Elevator door up to 4th floor.  Just before arriving at the 4th, funny haha wife of hubby standing right infronta door, "Pete, can you hold my drink for me?" Sure.. As the door opens, down go his swim trunks.  Oops.

Story on Facebook today, Betty White - 1950, the day and age when women weren't allowed in board rooms, but, expected in the kitchen.. had her own variety show. She had a really talented tap dancer, happened to be a black gent, performed weekly.  Network said, "Southern Stations threatening to take the show off the air in their markets if you don't take him off the show.  Take him off the show."  "I'm sorry, I'm not taking him off, live with it."  Then, she gave him more time. Network dropped the show from every market. "Betty always found another door."

The Doors started performing in 1965.  Lead vocalist, songwriter Jim Morrison died in uncertain circumstances 6 years later - yet, in those years prior to his passing they recorded six albums, sold over 4 million of them, as well as 8 million singles.

 September 17, 1967, the Doors would perform "Light My Fire" on the Ed Sullivan Show.  Executives asked the band to not use the word 'higher' due to a possible reference to drug use.  They either forgot, or, used it on purpose. Neverless, six future shows with Ed were cancelled.  The Doors found another door - and soon after performed the same song on The Jonathan Winters Variety Show.

Buddy'a mine, buddy'a many (ie, well liked).. Billy Jewell College, circa 1973. At the end of his Freshman year, a Dean who seemingly had a thing agin' him said, "Don't come back next year, we don't really want your type."  Showed him the door.  Went to another University, got his BS.  Then, his Masters. Then, Doctorate.  Dean, long gone, soon, "Hey, here's your office door, we'd love to have you on our staff."  Uh huh, Billy.  Karma provided him a nice career, even retiring from "we don't really want your type".

1980-something.  Kansas City International Airport. Beautiful terminal A, automatic, all glass doors, led to checkerboard wood floors in the building's entirety.  Once, twice a year, Bambi would see reflection in door, think, "I'm gonna run say "Hi"", oops... was a deer facade... anyways.... I will NEVER forget that sound as the frantic deer ran from one end, past gates, baggage claims, ticket counters, all the way to the other end.  Clippity-clop'ed, a thousand times over.

I done runned outta door stories.  Oh, one more I guess. Buddy of mine, heap big KU fan, awhile back planned a sale's trip in New Orleans simply to time it when KU played in the Final Four basketball Tourney. Prior to the days of Stub Hub, Tickets For Less - he marched up and down the street, finally buying one ticket from a scalper.  Pranced up in his Crimson and Blue KU duds, handed the ticket taker his ticket.........."Sorry Bubs, that's fake."  Damnit darnit Jim.  So, he went, explained Lucy to a nearby cop.  Would not give it up. Finally, after twenty minutes the cop says "Alright, alright... we're gonna walk up to the Door of the Superdome, I'm gonna open the door, you shake my hand, and there better be something in it."

Doors keep us warm, protect... allow depressed ones to hide.  Others, go, meet greet, get married, have beers, go to church, work, shop, yada. Ya can't do much without doors.  Doors are ends, beginnings, where we meet 'deer' friends.

Favorite doormats.... "Don't just stand there, bust a move."    "The dogs only bark at ugly people."   

 

 

 

On second thought.........

Alvin.....   Alvin?....   Alvin???...   ALVIN???!!!...   ALVIN!!!!!!!!

Bueller.......  Bueller........ Bueller......  Bueller.....

Waldo?...   Waldo?...    Waldo?...  Waldo?...

"....... 6, 7, 8, 9, 10...  Ready or not, here I come!"

Allee allee in free....

That really ain't got squat to do with this...  Well, OK, I guess it does.  Memory of all things past - or, as much as we can remember.

I guess life, or, perhaps me, my life, could be dyslexic. I find glee in thinking bassackwards...  yes, what happened last week, last month, in 2024, 1999... '85...  '70...  and all the years prior, starting with when we made the transition from "He's 19 months old..." to... "2, terrible 2."

Every stop, year, thereafter, blessed.

I KNOW, I KNOW, I KNOW.....   with the good of life, comes the poopy mems....  Mayonnaise (YUCK, sorry, not really).....  FINALLY getting up enough nerve to ask whatshername out, so, ya run up to her, lo and behold, she's got a ring on her finger with enough yarn on it your granny could make you a hat.

Rain outs.  A tube goes out on the TV, making Leave It To Beaver impossible until dad gets home, can fix.

Intermixed, there's some hella good....   slip and slide....... sled, back to top, sled, back to top, sled.... hot chocolate.

Then, mebbe like, 9th grade...  you's more scared than the first time you went to the dentist... and some Senior with a probable small thing (VICTOR!!!)... ok, some Senior who was bullied horrifically HIS 9th grade year has picked YOU ("But I didn't do nuttin'!) as his psychologically this will make him feel better. Mine pulled a knife on me, 3rd floor bathroom in school.. nuttin' happened, I'm certain worse ends have happened. Bullying, sadly, lives.

We learn, along the ride in the second row of the station wagon, not every one has station wagons.. some like Edsels, Citrons (ever seen those dudes go 'up and down'!), T Birds, Falcons, his dad runs a business, the cargo van doubles as their family car.

We notice........ the perfect(?) mom, dad, kid, kid family.... then, the family with no dad.  Another, no mom.  Yet another, lives with his, her grandparents.

We see, but are now old enough, not to say something.......... how come he walks funny?  Why is she in 3rd grade again this year?  Mom, he's worn the same shirt and pants four days in a row....  DID YOU SEE THE SIZE OF THEIR HOUSE? They actually have people that ain't family that LIVE there and do the stuff, kinda work, our moms and dads do.. and  they ALWAYS get new duds.

Where ya going with this Victor?  I ain't sure.  That's a thing about life I really like, but, sometimes it's sad. Whaddaya mean? I mean, we can love, love, love our immediate family...  or not, and the 'or not' is really sad to me.. .but, I get it.

We overcome that, or.. we don't.

In spite of the present day 'climate', this is the greatest Country in the World, my take anyways.

Free to choose. Free.  We trip and fall, sometimes sue, sometimes punch out the owner, sometimes say "I'm ok, I simply wasn't paying attention."

We hold doors for others because there ain't nuttin' in life in that bigga hurry where we can't be nice..........or, we walk in, let the door close, 'cause mebbe we didn't learn we should be nice.. or try to be. Or, don't care.  That's a sad one, but too, we ain't never worn their Chuck Taylors.  Maybe they're sick, hurt, just divorced, being bullied, had a just had a hound pooch go over the rainbow bridge.

Somehow, we all make it. Quality for one, is differn't for another.  Fun for me, might be disgusting to you.  One might be looking for a crown to put atop their head after having loaded three loads of clothes in the car, successfully washed them, brought them home, put them away -------- whilst anudder may be staring in the mirror after returning from the marathon they just completed and they deem themselves a failure because they didn't finish in the top fitty in their age group.

McDonalds, Arby's, The Capitol Grille, we're having leftovers........ perhaps equally yummy to all.

Pet a hound, buy one'a them 12' tall carpeted things for your cats to go crazy climbing.  "ACHOO, no thank you."  Honey, can we get anudder puppy?  I'm not so sure the four we already got, and you and me, AND a puppy, can all fit in this bed.  PLEASE?  OH, OK.

Life is a remote control, cause we like different things.  I'm a fidget spinner.  I fall asleep in the recliner every night by 9.  Morning person. Night owl. 

Road trip.  All inclusive joint for me. Choo choo, all the way across the county.  Caribbean cruise. Oh  you oughta try Alaska.  Brrr...  We really enjoy tugging the camper up to Smithville lake, we can do round trip in 37 minutes.

This all came to fruition because I was thinking about what an awesome childhood I had.  I know some didn't.  We, in life, can worry about what we don't have.   While sure, I've been divorced a long, long time - know I've missed a bunch, I've had a blessed life.  I'm happy. I hope I choose that, live that.  In the end, it's smile or not.  Kindness or not.  Being thankful or not.

Life is fun, funny, hard, tough, lazy, hurried, hot, cold, rainy, snowy, too hot, just right.  I once told a buddy of mine, he happens to be black.... "If I were black, I'm pretty sure I'd be dead from fighting back."  He quickly smiled, said, "No you wouldn't."

I love me some people............ hope you do as well....

We're in it together...............or, we ain't.  Sometimes we ain't got no choice.  I'm a remote person. I like flippin' around the channels of life. Sure, usually land back at the same ole same ole ones. but, I really enjoy seeing what others are watching, doing, how they're living, what they like, don't like.  Life's fun. Good. Or not, I guess.

Love, Victurd

Fabiosa Digest(ion) issues........

Hi, my name is Vic.  I'm old.  Feeble.  Ya know, one foot in the urn (I have really small feet.)

Picture wrinkled arms... actually, wrinkles allover, you know, like onea them Shar-Pei hounds.

I have actinic purpura.  GET AWAY FROM ME THEN OLD MAN, I DON'T WANNA CATCH THAT CRAP.

It ain't what you think.  It's the purple spots we geezers get on our skin whenever we barely bump anything, sometimes, we don't even remember howintheheck we got/get them.

I'm the poor poor pitiful me person in dayum near every Fabiosa Digest 'reel', story, whadever you call 'em on Facebook.  Our time has past, move along OG, where'd ya put the will, I wanna take a peek.

Old man river..  Any possible contributions in life, water under the bridge.  Get along home little doggie.

Arguments, amongst the 'children' of Fabiosa Digest folks, center around, "here's a nice little flat for ya Grandpa.. it's only a block from the Assisted Living place, which is next door to Golden Acres, which, has a really nifty cemetery in the back forty.  Mark, set, get them tennis balls'a rollin. Rollin' rollin' rollin', keep them tennis balls rollin'... . Oh.. and......

Handover the keys to the 4 bedroom, 2 bath place, and, couldya, before ya go, call that dumpster place and clear out all the crap in the second garage door spot so I, er, someone could park two vehicles in there?

In fairness to the Fabiosa Digest folks, I ain't read a ton of 'em, but, whenever I do, I swear to goodness I can hear Roy Orbison singing "It's Over" in the background.

Just once..........................

Just once..........................

I'd like to read one where..........

Gramps SPRINGS OUTTA BED... showers and shaves in nuthin' flat.  Races (you hear me, RACES) down the stairs....... as gramps does, he swings by the record player (YES, I said record player..........) puts Sly and his Stone family on...

Say, get up and dance to the music
Get on up and dance to the music

Dance to the music
Dance to the music
Dance to the music
Dance to the music (hey, Greg), what?

 

All we need is a drummer
For people who only need a beat, yeah
I'm gonna add a little guitar
And make it easy to move your feet

 

Then, Gramps moonwalks into the kitchen. makes him some Chia pudding.. a dab'a cottage cheese...  three scoops of Greek yogurt.......warshes it all down with a glass'a 2%........

 

(Reread up above there... there ain't NOWHERE where the OG put on clothes..  YES, he's nekkid to the World.  That's the way, uh huh uh huh, he likes it... slides open the patio door....... (There's a 12' privacy fence, relax a little)..   does a cannonball into the deep enda the pool, followed by twelve, count em, twelve, laps.

 

"AHHHH YES!" he hollers to no one in particular...... back into the house. put's Sly's album back in the cover.. .runs upstairs whistling the theme from Andy Griffith.......

 

T shirt....... shorts.......  a pair'a neon green boxer briefs (whitey tighty? FORGET YOU!)... ankle socks (whadever damn color he wants).. . His favorite Hoka shoes.........

 

AND HE'S OFF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

Out the door......... jogs up by the college... around the Square (4 times).......up the hill to the High School... he's up to two miles.. but he's timed it perfectly, slides into the Elementary School, salutes, waves, 'howdy's' all the office staff...  walks into granddaughter Aub's 3rd grade class... has a seat on the stool the teach provided.......... and reads the book of the day (right after he's winked at Aub and flashed her the love sign.)

 

Blows her a kiss... says 'thankya ma'am" to teach.... "Morning Herk" to the custodian............. and, continues his jog....... defying the perceived odds of "geezers don't know crap about electronics", he calls the 7-11 from the phone on his ear, orders 8 different scratch off tickets... "be there in seven minutes Betty".. before he set foot outta the schoolyard, he'd eyed the pull up bar on the playground... did 20 pull ups (didn't wanna be late for his tickets, prolly coulda done forty or fitty.)

 

He no longer walked in the door, said 'howdy', snatched the tickets, tapped to pay (thoughts running through his head, "SEE? I know how to do this crap too!).. says thanks to Betty.......

 

Two miles to home......... but, the Police Scanner in the other ear warns him about trouble at Al's Bar and Grill..........he's there in a flash.... seems four thugs from a nearby town are making fun of, bullying. Duke... a nice kid, some call him 'simple', but, wouldn't hurt a flea.. anyways, Duke is in near tears...... It's like Gramps downed a can'a spinach, three karate kicks, four jiu jitsu's later, there's "Four on the floor", Al, and Duke, thank him... wiseacre Otis, in the backgound, already had a few, starts singing the Might Mouse theme............ 

 

Ten minutes later (a 5mph pace) Gramps is in the door at home, pets the dog and cat... feeds em...  takes a seat on the couch.. but only for a little bit.. to binge his latest favorite Netflix show.

 

Fabulous idea, (my take anyways).. I dunno if Fabiosa would ever break from their feeble Geezer, take advantage of the old man, old woman ways..... but, I'd like to see it, read it.

 

Oh well, I'm off to swim a few laps, happy day!

 

VICTOR?    Yeah?  You ain't gotta pool, and, FYI, that's the front porch, not the back porch.

 

Oops.

 

Love, Victurd 

 

I'm positive....... I think. Are you sure, Shirley?

I have admitted lazy streaks.  OK, call it years if you prefer that, I'm 73, I mean, how many dayum years can I consternate, be PO'ed at that?

I have a 'new' computer. It's behaving like a wife. VICTOR!  Er, I mean, like a persnickety partner.  That ain't gonna get you off the hook Victor, you're still gonna be labeled a misogynist. I'm 73, I mean, how many dayum years can I consternate, be PO'ed at that?

Where was I?  Victor, that's a very common question asked by 73 year olds.  I believe you were set to explain or demonstrate how your computer is persnickety, or, husband-like, HA!

Funny, not.  I'm sure of that. The regular path to open this (to do a new blog) is to go way up the left upper hand corner, click 'new window', then wait for three years for it to open.  I'm 73, I mean, how many dayum years can I consternate, be PO'ed at that? Ya know? I'd get pissed for like a year, that's why I chose to select a window that was already opened, type in the site for the blog, then, carry on my wayward son..

So............ when it opened, it didn't open, rather......"DANGEROUS SITE".  I kinda agree. It drives me crazy sometimes anyways.

So... I went back to the regular method, opened, waited a year, I'm now 74, how's things with you?

Sure.  That's a huge word (to me) in life.  Same with the word doubt. When I find myself in times of trouble.......no, wait, that ain't it.   When I find myself in situations where I don't really know any, many...I thinka the sure doubt first.. I look for someone who seemingly has self doubt in themselves.  I admit to that for myself sometimes, but, I think it would be a literal hell to live in a world where you always doubt yourself, and for that, I feel sorry for them.

Then, there's the sure word.  I'm sure I'd like that one, that one and that one.  I'm sure that one hasn't cleaned out his car in three months. (Victor, you're in the bathroom peeing, again, that's you in the mirror.) Oh yeah, sorry.

That one, is SURE of him, herself.  That one, is TOO sure of him, herself.  I do not wanna sit by them, nor become acquainted to them. I would ride across the country 'with' them, provided they were heading East on I-70 whilst I was going West. We get it Victor.  Ya sure?  Yes, Shirley.

Which, has absolutely NOTHING to do with Carter Jensen (but I do.)  Carter is a tremendously talented 'rookie' for the Kansas City Royals.  Every stop along the way in the Minor Leagues, reminds ya of one'a them cheesy Batman cartoons with "POW".. "BANG"..  "ZAP"... "KABOOM!"  That is, he can really really hit.  I'm sure of it.

At the end of last season, he was brought up from Triple A for a look see.  Look? See? Dude can hit.  Thus, for this year, he was bequeathed the backup catcher role.  Prominent.  Huge in that our Captain, Salvy, will only catch a little over half the time.

Third game of the season... Home run... and.. RBI double..  Royals win, Royals win. Sixth game of the season, a 1pm Sunday noon start..  Salvy had caught the night before, so, Carter penciled in (emphasis on pencil) to catch with his 22 yr old legs, so Salvy could rest his late 30-something legs.

Team meeting before game.  Where's Carter? Ring, ring, ring, ring, voicemail.  He's a local kid, so, they tried his parent's number... ring, ring, ring, Hello?  Mr. Jensen, ya seen Carter?  Nope, I'm sorry, I haven't.  

He overslept. Nuh uh?  Uh huh, I"m sure of it Shirley. They scratched him from the game. Salvy not only caught, but, they lost an all important lefthanded bat against a very fine righty pitcher.

This is where............. I go ballistic, of sorts. I WOULDA GIVEN MY RIGHT ARM AT THE CHANCE TO PLAY MAJOR LEAGUE BASEBALL!  (OK, maybe right index finger fingernail, now's that?)  I mean, what a goofball, some might even call him an idiot.  MY. GOAL. IN. LIFE. WAS. TO. PLAY. MAJOR. LEAGUE. BASEBALL.  Carter, how couldya?

Ahm, Victor?  Yeah?  Can I help you here?  What's to help about it, it's ridiculous.  OK OK, back to that in a sec.  When you, Victor, went to that tryout for the Royals, remember, the one where you realized you sucked?  Yeah, so?  So, you went on, successfully I might add, to your second life choice, to teach PE and coach in your hometown.  Remember?  Sure, but what's that got to do with this?

Ahm, Victor?  Yeah?  Remember how, in teaching, you really stuggled at first. Yeah.  Then, after awhile, with the help of many, you had the kids walking in for PE quietly, and, they even remembered to wear gym shoes for PE Day.  Yeah, I DO remember that, and, I thought pretty cool of me, I even made up a "GYM SHOE" award that after so many times in a row, they got this nifty "GYM SHOE AWARD" colored construction paper thingy to post on their class door.  YES, that's right, you did.

Then, Victor? Yeah?  Do you remember your second week?  Wow, that was a long time ago. I just remember, I think most of the teachers liked me, man, they helped me, for sure.  The Principal was awesome.. and the cooks, OH the cooks.  The gym doubled as a cafeteria, I spent a lotta time in with those nice, fun, ladies. I even got TWO cinnamon rolls on cinnamon roll day. I had it going smoking!

Uh huh, but, then do you remember what happened?  Well, not specifically, remember, that was long, long ago.

Week 2. YOU OVERSLEPT.  Damn, that's right, I did. By the time they got ahold of you, you'd missed two classes, the teachers of those two classes didn't get their break time.  You felt horrible, and, rightfully so.

Victor?  yeah?     Do you remember your office door?  Well yeah, it was wood, barren.  Nothing stood out about it.   Except when..........

The Principal put up a GYM SHOE AWARD that day for you on it.

THAT'S DIFFERENT.  No it ain't.  Job = oversleep.  He's a people just like you're a people.  I'm sure of it, Victor. 

OK.  There's no way to wiggle outta that one.  I did it.  It's twue it's twue, it's reawwy twue.  I am human, hear me snore.  It was the last time, in however long this dayum working career has gone... that was.. gosh, almost 50 years ago... and it ain't happened again.

So Victor, do you want a GYM SHOE AWARD or a chest to pin it on?  Bite me.  i would, but, I'm heading East on I-70.

Good day, Paul Harvey