MS Word Users: Use “Page Layout” view to see newsletter as it appears in hard copy.
Issue #822st Quarter 2006
NEWS FROM DOWN HOME
An eclectic selection of news, stories, and editorials from the heart of the Great State of Texas
1
I
n February of 2004 I decided to switch from monthly newsletters to quarterly newsletters, primarily to give me more time to work on my books. What I didn’t realize is that I’d have to remember what happened the last three months if I wanted to “report” on it.
In 1997, when I started writing these tomes, I could generally remember what happened the previous month, but now I’m doin’ good if I remember what I had for breakfast (What did I have for breakfast?). I wrote notes to myself. I couldn’t remember where I put ‘em. I wrote it down in my little Day Timer schedule book. But my eyes are so bad now I cain’t even read what I’m writing, much less read what I wrote (I guess I need to get a bigger book.). Then I’d forget where I put the book. I’d ask Cindy, but I couldn’t hear what she told me. So my memory’s gone, my eyesight’s gone, my hearing’s gone, and I have to carry all my “body parts” (eye glasses, hearin’ aid, false teeth, sun block, beano, etc.) around in a briefcase – gettin’ old is heck! Thank goodness I can still drive.
Speakin’ of drivin’, Cindy and I recently (translated: between now and the last NFDH) put over 4,000 more miles on these already-worn-out rear ends. Before I tell you about it, I want to apologize now for not stoppin’ to see more of our family and friends along the way. But drivin’ through 25 states, checkin’ on our family in Atlanta (only 1½ days), getting with most of the cousins in Rhode Island, attending our nephew Tim’s college graduation and party in Bah-stun (Boston), and seein’ many of Cindy’s kinfolks, attending a reception and beautiful joining in the holy wedlock of Cameron Cushman and Meghan Duke in Flora, Illinois on the way home (also 1½ days), and bein’ on the road somewhere around 8 days just didn’t give us much extra time. Sorry, I’ll quit whining now.
We did see a few cute things on our trip. I don’t remember where I saw it, but there was “Kiss My Ribs Bar-b-Que”. Then someone told us about Olie’s (pronounced “OL-lees”, for those of you not familiar with the Scandanavian brogue) Country Kitchen which, we were told, was located in the middle of a corn field in Illinois. Well, there are a LOT of corn fields in Illinois; we must’ve missed the one Olie’s was in. Then, I’d thought I’d seen everything, but a 30-ish lady in Sandoval, Illinois took the cake—she rode by us on her bicycle, talking on her cell phone.
A Retirin’ Story
Dad gum Guvnmint!
Movin’ right along. Even though I’m supposed to have retired a few years back (I don’t have to be re-tired, I’m always tired), I did turn that “magic” age on the 11th of July. I made the mistake of goin’ down to the Social Security office to check up on whether I was goin’ to get at least some of those millions I “voluntarily” paid in over my entire working life (translated: the Guvnmint involuntarily took out of my paychecks) to provide me a “comfortable life” in my old age. Before I went though, I decided to do a little research to get as much information about it.
The first place I went was to the Intelligencia group down at the daily mornin’ gatherin’ at the Lone Camp Trading Post. Then I checked with my brother-in-law, who is a virtual encyclopedia regarding such things, my own brother, a few aunts and uncles, my wife, and finally the SSA web site. While researchin’ it, I did find a few tidbits.
Most people know that Franklin Roosevelt got it all started in 1935, as part of his New Deal program. But I bet you didn’t know that the first office opened in Austin, Texas on October 14, 1936 (for which I’m sure that Austin is mighty proud). The first person to receive a Social Security benefit was Ernest Ackeman, who was paid 17 cents in January 1937 (which is about what I’m supposed to receive—after adjustment for inflation—except I have to pay 18 cents of it back if I earn over 39 cents a year). Ole Ern received a one-time, lump-sum pay-out—which was the only form of benefits paid during the start-up period January 1937 through December 1939 (I hope he didn’t spend it all in one place.). The first person to receive monthly retirement benefits was Ida Mae Fuller of Vermont (and she’s still collecting; however, she receives the checks in Mexico for some reason).
The last little tidbit of information I’m goin’ to titillate you with is that the SSA includes 10 regional offices, 8 processing centers, approximately 1300 field offices (“approximately”, because they don’t know the real number), and 37 teleservice centers—in all as of April 2006—over 65,000 employees (all of whom are paid by . . . you guessed it the Guvnmint [translated: us], and none of whom pay into the Social Security program). That kinda reminds me of the story of the restauranteur who asked the waitress what she recommended. She responded, dryly, “Look, I work here, but I don’t eat here!” Now I don’t want to pick on the SSA folks unfairly, none of our beloved Government employees pay into Social Security (I’m not goin’ there; this newsletter’s not big enough, and I don’t want to get any fights started).
Now, back to how all this affects me personally. I’m so glad I did all this research, ‘cause now I’m more confused than ever. I did find out that if I wait until I’m 66, I can earn all I want without affecting what I should rightly receive from Social Security, and I’ll get about 50 percent more than I’d get if I started collecting at age 62. I also found out that I’d get about 10 times as much if I wait until after I die to start collecting. The one little catch was signing my checks.
Larnin’ Texan
omlettea statement of intention
“I should bust yore head for puttin’ beans in that there chili, but since you don’t know no better, omlette it slide.”word from Gary Hankins, definition and example mine.
A Little Story
Git Along, Little Rattlers
I’ve been out of “retirement” now for about eight weeks (except the two we were gone on our trip) working a few jobs in Fort Worth. One little job seemed to lead to another, and then I was working on all of ‘em at the same time; which was a new experience. I don’t mind working occasionally, but I sure do miss bein’ back home in Palo Pinto. I don’t get to see many beautiful sunrises and sunsets at the hotel. I don’t get to sit out on the deck and watch hummingbirds battle it out to see who gets to take a sip from the feeder, or watch the titmice, wrens, cardinals, and painted buntings eat from our sunflower feeders. Or watch Cindy herd the rattlesnakes¯did I just write “herd the rattlesnakes”? Indeed I did.
One cool morning a few weeks ago, while I was in Fort Worth working, my sweet honey went out to the “Rob” building (so named for the gentleman who sold it to me) to get something, and on her way back she came across a small snake all curled up in the grass. Undeterred, she went to the garage and picked up a sharpshooter shovel. Back she went, and “stobbed” (Texan for “prodded”) it a few times to make it move. When it stuck its little head out from under its body, Cindy took it off cleanly with the shovel. It wasn’t until after she stretched it out that she discovered it had seven “buttons” (that’s Texan for “rattles”) on the other end. She’d just killed her first rattlesnake; albeit only a two-foot one. When she called me at the hotel that night, I could hardly believe my ears. Who in the world would flip a rattlesnake around to get it to move?
Two nights later, after I’d returned from Fort Worth, it was such a beautiful evening that we just had to sit out on our deck, take in the solitude, and look at the stars. As we usually do, we were calmly contemplating the celestial bodies and the constellations, trying to sort out the scorpions from the dippers from the hunters. Cindy got up and stepped off the deck to show me Scorpio, and I followed her around the side of the house. As we began to return to the house, I noticed a dark line on the porch. I thought it was the shadow of the hummingbird feeder in the moonlight, until I realized the moon was on the other side. I told Cindy, “Hold it!” And she did. Then she heard a rattling noise.
“What do we do?” she asked.
“You get a light and I’ll get a gun, honey.” (sung to the tune of “The Crawdad Song”).
As I ran around to turn on the porch light and get the gun, the snake took off towards the cedars.
“Hurry!” I heard my sweetheart say as I tore into the house. I flipped on the porch lights on the way in. As I was comin’ back to the door with my trusty shotgun, I noticed Cindy out the window, waving her hands above her head, trying to keep the snake (which was headed directly towards her) from slithering into the cedar trees and escaping. She was herding this rattlesnake, and it worked! The snake made a right turn and stopped in the open. I ran out, lifted my gun, took aim, pulled the trigger, and nothing happened! I’d left the safety on (here’s your sign!). By the time I’d clicked it off and fired, the snake had headed for another group of cedars and I just winged her.
Cindy then ran in the house and got the big torch (as they say in England). I ran around the other side of the cedars and tried to keep the snake from crawling through the fence, which would mean she’d get away. Cindy shown the light, we spotted her, and I quickly dispatched what turned out to be a four and a half foot female diamondback rattlesnake (with 13 “buttons”). Needless to say, neither one of us got a very good night’s sleep that night.
So for all you rattlesnake’s out there, “Don’t mess with Cindy!” There is another story about a poor little six-foot-long bull snake that Cindy discovered in her little garden area at our last house, when she and our neighbor Marcia “took care” of it with two 38 revolvers, but that’s another story. All I can say is, “Snakes beware!”
Date Bombs
Heard on Radio
One day, while I was drivin’ into Fort Worth to work, I was doing my usual “surfing” the radio just to try and find anything worth listening to. Most times I turn it off and meditate while I watch the world pass by me at 80 miles an hour. On this particular occasion, I picked up the beginning of a discussion regarding “Date Bombs”. Fascinated by the phrase, I listened in on the discussion.
The radio persons were touting some book or article that listed several things that might be a “turn-off” to your date, and though I probably won’t be dating anytime soon (not and be alive for long), I thought I might pass it along to my brother, who is available. Here’s the “Top Six Date Bombs” they came up with:
1.Bad Breath – That’s a “no-brainer”. There’s no better way than to start off your date with a big, breathy “Hhhhhhhello!” If your date’s hair turns curly when it was straight, or vice-versa, you need to gargle with something (haven’t you seen the trillion Dentine or Listerine commercials?).
2.Allergies – I really hadn’t thought of that, but I’m sure it would be a turn-off if, while scarfin’ down your Big Mac, you had to call 911 because your partner was sneezin’ his/her head off and sprayin’ French fries over everybody.
3.Sweat/Body Odor – Well, DUH! There’s nothing I enjoyed more than datin’ a gal that smelled like a wart hog (unless she looked like a wart hog).
4.Acne – Oh, puh-leeze! I don’t even want to go there.
5.Gastro-intestinal Difficulties – They cited two types, along with the causes: swallowing/exhaling excessive air just before the date and/or eating certain foods that can not only cause your date to pass out, but yourself as well. I’ll let you guess the two types of difficulties. I presume these occur after dinner, not as you’re picking up your date. They went on to suggest keeping a diary of when these occurrences happen and a diary of what you eat (as if you didn’t already know).
and finally,
6.Warts – Well actually, I thought that humongous wart with the six black hairs sticking out of it was quite attractive (I also thought the Wicked Witch of the West was a babe, too.).
What was frightening was that these guys were actually describing some of my dates (just kidding, honey). They did give all of us a warning sign: if the ash tray contains airwick or beano, look out!
This is a Test – for all of us
A Room with a View
It doesn’t hurt to take a hard look at yourself from time to time, and this should help get you started.
During a visit to the mental asylum, a visitor asked the Director what the criterion was that defined whether or not a patient should be institutionalized.
“Well,” said the Director, “we fill up a bathtub, then we offer a teaspoon, a teacup, and a bucket to the patient and ask him or her to empty the bathtub.”
“Oh, I understand,” said the visitor. “A normal person would use the bucket because it’s bigger than the spoon or the teacup.”
“No,” said the Director. “A normal person would pull the plug. Do you want a room with a view?”
—my thanks to John Hannabach, President of the USS St. Paul Association, 2004-2006
A Shameless Plug
Palo Pinto County Jail and Historical Museum
I joined the PPC Historical Association a few months ago, and one of the perks is that I get to visit the Old Jail Museum & Log Cabin Complex. And you can too – FREE! It’ll be open to the public every Saturday from the first Saturday in May until Labor Day weekend. Hours are 11am-4pm. Individual tours can be arranged by calling 940/769-2503 or 940/659-2555. The museum is located on the street east of the Courthouse, and a block and a half south (left side).
Brief Comment
I Can’t Help Myself
You know that I do my best to stay away from the “challenges” of day-to-day news stories (unless I’m satirizing them), but I just read a few articles about Hugo Chavez, President of Venezuela. After reading ‘em, I won’t be buying any more Citgo gasoline or anything else from Venezuela. I encourage you to do the same. We as Americans should not knowingly support terrorism or anti-Americanism. Let’s get educated!
Headlines
“Astronaut Takes Blame for Gas in Spacecraft”
I wonder if he was on a date.—the editor.
1
Holy Smoke!
Church on fire? Holy smoke!!
Here’s another excerpt from a church bulletin:
Due to the rector’s illness, Wednesday’s healing services will be discontinued until further notice.
From the Editor
Answered Prayer
A voyaging ship was wrecked during a storm at sea and only two men on it were able to swim to a small, desert-like island. The two survivors, not knowing what else to do, agreed that they had no other recourse but to pray to God. However, to find out whose prayer was more powerful, they agreed to divide the territory between them and stay on opposite sides of the island.
The first thing they prayed for was food. The next morning, the first man saw a fruit-bearing tree on his side of the land and he was able to eat its fruit. The other man’s parcel of land remained barren.
After a week, the first man was lonely and he decided to pray for a wife. The next day, another ship was wrecked and the only survivor was a woman who swam to his side of the land. On the other side of the island, there was nothing.
Soon the first man prayed for a house, clothes, and more food. The next day, like magic, all of these were given to him; however, the second man still had nothing.
Finally, the first man prayed for a ship so that he and his wife could leave the island. In the morning he found a ship docked at his side of the island. The first man boarded the ship with his wife and decided to leave the second man on the island; he considered the other man unworthy to receive God’s blessings since none of his prayers had been answered.
As the ship was about to leave, the first man heard a voice from heaven booming, “Why are you leaving your companion on the island?”
“My blessings are mine alone since I was the one who prayed for them,” the first man answered. “His prayers were all unanswered and so he does not deserve anything.”
“You are mistaken!” the voice rebuked him. “He had only one prayer, which I answered. If not for that prayer, you would not have received any of my blessings.”