A Man of Years

He smiles with slight of grin
A gate of hesitation walks in him
He understands friends' abuse
For life is that of no recluse
He sees the world which has been used
And travels the land with amuse
Knowledge comes from years of use
Which has passed with hope of no disuse
Years of strength have passed away
For his last years are on the way
And meeting his maker will come to pass
And talk to God with a quiet repast
While tears will fall upon his passing
He with God will smile, in the ever lasting

Remember God only gives us a certain number of days. I don't plan on wasting the ones I have left.

Until we talk again.

Mike

The Street Vendor

What you sell is a bother to me
Whether it's fruits are vegetables,
or art or pottery
You are but a seller on the street
Vendor you are unimportant to me
For my life is important you see
Truly the fault is mine, not the sellers you see
For God created both the vendor and me

Mexico has given me a perspective that I have needed far a long time. When I return to America I hope I don't loose the gift's Mexico has shared with me.

Remember: God only gives us a certain number of days. I don't plan on waisting the ones I have left.

Until we talk again.

Mike

The Trash Man

The trash man walks and rings his bell
Behind a truck of which little is well
As I ride behind, he my passing to impede
Does he have a story which he might plead
Of wife or children or maybe family
Which I chosen never to see
For I am most busy with self you see
As I pass through this world
I have thought little of others
Or what there needs could be
For others are of much importance
If I will only open my eyes and see

Mexico has given me a new perspective I have needed for a long time. When I return to America I hope I don't loose the gifts Mexico has shared with me.

Remember: God only gives us a certain number of days. I don't plan on wasting the ones I have left.

Until we talk again.

Mike

Day of the Dead ... Dia de los Muertos

Before I came to Mexico I thought Mexico's Dia de los Muertos was some macabre practice. Boy, was I wrong! Actually it is two days not one, November 1-2 each year. They are All Soles' Day November first, and All Saints Day November second. The first is not as big of an event as the second, my first mistake, I have learned. Day one is for the infants and small children who have died, while day two is for those older ancestors, family and dignitaries who are deceased. I am not sure of the exact age for demarcation. Both are days of remembrance, prayer and conversations about the deceased. While they are not official sanctioned government holidays, they are probably among the biggest observances in Mexico.

Day one is for the families who have lost children. On the way home from the cemetery the family will drop cookies or candy in hope of the child finding the way home. This to me seems so very sad. It is similar to day two, but more subdued.

I am told that day two has by far more participation. On day two, many families who don't set up shrines or altars go to the cemeteries for the entire day and part of the night. Here the family will make an altar for the deceased. Many are quite elaborate and very expensive. Usually there is the favorite food, drink and things the deceased loved, candles, pictures, skulls made from sugar, and flowers, usually marigolds, hoping for the love one's return. I am told there is much conversation about the persons life; what the love one enjoyed, things they accomplished. It appears much time is spent in celebration of a life well lived. The families and friends sit and wait for the appearance of the love one. Many are hoping that the prayers and conversations will stir the soul to appear. This time is also used to clean and repair the grave. At some point, I'm not sure when, the food which has been prepared, along with the drink (many times tequila) is consumed.

On the evening of the November 2, Kay and I went to see the many shrines which were set up at homes along the 4-5 blocks of Cinco de Mayo street in Chapala. Lots of people come out to see the shrines. At several shrines the families were offering pan dulce; a semi sweet bread. The entire street scene reminded me of a carnival; lots of teenagers with faces painted and dressed up to look like skeletons, music everywhere, many taking pictures, laughter and celebration. Many of the shrines included family members representing the ancestor in skeleton makeup and dress.

I see many of the little blue and white flags hung across the small streets from house to house, plus blue and white ribbon bows. It is my understanding this represents the Catholic church. At dusk the shrines were lit by candles.

Jose Guadalupe Posada: (1852–1913) is the Mexican artist that most Americans think of when Dia de los Muertos images come up. He created the famous lady skeleton with the large fancy hat and dress; called "Katrinas" now. Many skeletons and sugar skulls are a part of these two days of celebrations.

It is not my desire to made you unhappy with this blog. My hope is that you have found some information which will expand your knowledge. Remember, Dia de los Muertos, is a "remembrance celebration" of the loved-one's contribution to life, not a grieving of loss. The mood is very festive.

Remember God only gives us a certin number of days. I don't plan on wasting the ones I have left.

Until we talk again.

Mike

Four Months in Mexico

As I write this blog I pause to look out the window. Good, Kay is not packing the Venza for a move back to the US. That's a positive. Neither of us were sure what a move of 2,500 miles from Colorado Springs, Colorado, USA To San Antonio Tlayacapan, Jalisco, Mexico would do to our marriage of 27 plus years. Would things work out? Let's just say, I haven't seen any cards from an attorney fall out of her purse lately. That's always a good sign.

If I have any advice for those contemplating a move to Mexico, spend some time here. The old timers say that the 4-5-6 rule seems to work. First, a four week visit. Then later a, five month commitment. If this seems to work, stay a while. One can get to most any where in the US within 5 hours from most parts of Mexico by plane. Many travel to the states to see family 2 to 3 times each year. Plus some live 6 months in their home country, then 6 months in Mexico. Those that have been here a long time say, many who stay for six plus years do finally return home, however it's usually in a pine box.

Does Mexico work? Yes, it may not work like we think it should, or could, or even might, but work it does. Now in our forth month south of the border we must remind ourselves of a term: "The Ugly American". It is our sincere desire not to be one of those people. Mexico doesn't need us to fix it. It did OK before we arrived, it will do fine after we are gone. The good news here is I have time to read, write my blog, children's books, plus my novel. I exercise six days a week. Here, I have time to truly smell the roses, or is it the bugambilia (bougainvillea) in English ... or French ... or whatever that word used in the USA is)? I forget.

I have learned the important places one needs to go: Walmart, church, the Pemex gas station, Kay's hair dresser (Paty's), plus the best place to eat in town, the La Nueva Posada. Today I found the post office. I knew it existed, I just had not gotten around to looking for it. Being retired, as most Americans and Canadians seem to be, helps. My advice, don't get in too big a hurry. Most things work out over time. I check my blood pressure every day, I am not sure why any more. My numbers are down 10 on the first and 20 points on the second. Maybe it's time to put the BP tester in the cabinet.

Many, even most, countries are not like the USA. I have had an opportunity to live in three countries; America, Saudi Arabia, and Mexico. I have had the privilege of traveling in many parts of the world. Each is different, all have good and bad. Embrace the good, avoid the bad and you will be happier.

Remember, God only gives us a certain number of days. I don't plan on wasting the ones I have left.

Until we talk again.

Mike

Mexican Mirador's

I spoke of miradors in an earlier blog. I said then I would deal with the miradors later. Looks like that time has arrived.

Think of a patio on the roof of your house. Not a regular roof, a flat roof. Most of our neighbors here in San Antonio Tlayacapan have miradors. We can see other miradors from ours.

Different people seem to enjoy miradors at different times of the day. Kay likes to go up early in the morning to catch the sunrise and listen to the roosters with her coffee and a good book. I go later in the day or at sunset. This is the place to watch the weather change. They can provide a great deal of peace and solitude.

Ours is on the third level and the climb is worth the effort. On ours are a number of comfortable chairs, a table plus a Mexican swing. As far as flora is concerned Kay has arranged four large elongated flower pots with different types and colors of flowers and plants. Really quite pretty. Plus this is home for the famous lime tree which I devoted a complete blog to some time ago.

The humming birds really like a certain type of yellow flower called a cameron. It looks a bit like a shrimp. That's the only one we have that seems to attract them. The humming birds are quite a lot of fun to watch. They are very colorful, but don't stay long. Maybe 30 second at best, then they're off.

If there is little breeze this is the place one can catch it. The mirador is the best place to nap, too.

Remember God only gives us a certain number of days. I don't plan on waisting the ones I have left.

Until we talk again.

Mike

We're different; you and me.

Equal or unequal, we look to see,
then we judge other's with plea.

Many voices rise, both loud and soft.
Should we listen in times of wroht?

Or turn them off, never to be raised,
voice's at times, that should be praised.

Offen we hear, only that we want to be,
while others listen and are set free.

Some are slight, while others tall;
our physical bodies mean little at all.

Our skin tone is different, some say with glee;
are we so different you and me?

Bereft of sight, some will see.
For some sighted, this shall never be.

Many are in bondage, while others walk free.
Some dream of walking, others dance with glee.

Many are locked within their minds;
medicine perhaps, there fetters to unbind.

We don't look or act the same;
perhaps our DNA is to blame.

We are different; you and me,
which I believe sets us free.

Remember God only gives us a certain number of days, I don't plan on wasting the one I have left.

Until we talk again.

Mike

Am I a creative person?

Creativity for me comes when I am manic. You see I have been Manic - Depressive since my early teen years. About 20 years ago I tried my luck at writing a song. It was country. As it turned out I co-wrote one other. Never really thought much about writing until one afternoon I stopped by a friend's house.

Doug was in the yard, is this starting to sound like a country song? He said he was writing a song. I said "that's not very good". Doug and I tell each other how it is. He stated that if I thought I was a song writer, have at it. Doug Schnorr is the kind of guy, whatever he touches turns out better.

I started writing my first song. Doug said "that's a good song". I said "yea I know". He said where did that come from? Now at this point (not wanting to lie) I LIED and said "oh I don't know". He said do you have any more? I said "maybe".

You see friends, my mother did not raise the brightest boy in Childersburg, Alabama, but I did go to AUBURN "WAR EAGLE" Sensing a business opportunity, we agreed to write more songs. Doug and I co-wrote another.

Please understand, when it comes to music. I would not know a treble from a cleft note if they ran over me in the middle of the street. I have no musical ability. I made a D+ in Mrs. Butts flutophone class in the fifth grade, and was happy I didn't fail.

Doug writes, composes, and produces music. I am a lyricist, a person who writes words for songs. I have learned over the years the best lyricists are good story tellers. With music today you have 3, maybe 4 minutes. This isn't the Beatles' "Hey Jude" 12 minutes.

As things turned out I filed with BMI (Broadcast Music Incorporated). Received royalties, it was kind of fun.

Over the last number of years my efforts have turned to books. I have finished one book. Where do the Tumbleweeds go? This is for children from the age of about 4 to 9 years. No it's not on the shelves yet. The art work is yet to be completed. The next one. What can You see When You're Three Foot Three? Is almost finished. A book for the same age group. Same art problem.

The other two children's book series are a collection of stories which I shared with my son from the age of about 3 until the age of 12, at which time he informed me that he was to old to be told a story in bed. The reason for the characters I created, is that Drew had some learning difficulties from the time he came to us on (9-25-90. Book series number 3 is Robert the One-Winged Horsefly. You see Robert has only one wing, which causes him to fly side ways. Book series 4 is Herman the Left-Turn Worm, here again, Herman can only turn left, so he ends up in some funny places. Both have many friends. Four children's books. Maybe that's enough.

May I add, that through a great deal of hard work Drew finished high school in 2009. Yes, Drew is our adopted son. Matter of fact he reach his 21st birthday on Monday 8-22-2011. What a blessing God brought to our lives.

The last book I have started is my novel, East of Flagpole Mountain. The story of a boy growing up in rural Talladega County, Alabama. The chapters are all fleshed out, some are started and all have their titles. Someone once said, there is a novel in all of us, we will see.

Remember God only gives us a certain number of days. I don't plan on wasting the ones I have left.

Until we talk again.

Mike

Off to the Mexican Dentista

Two new porcelain over metal crowns including X rays for a grand total of $750.00 no way! My last two US crowns cost $4,000.00 and did not include X rays. As I walk into the Dentist's office I see the clean white walls with the pictures of whales swimming in the ocean and lovely blonde furniture with matching wood trim and doors. Hanging on the wall was a beautiful chrome and white clock which showed perfect time. The young lady at the front desk spoke English with no accent. I inquired as to how she came to speak the Queen's language so well. She replied that she had studied English since kindergarten.

This is not my first rodeo. There is something rotten in Denmark and I going to find it. The price is tooo low. Off to the room with the reclining chair. Maybe I am on to something. Let's see; standard chair, runs up and down, leans forward and back. After placing the napkin around my neck, and safety glasses on my eyes. I start to notice every one except me is wearing a face mask. Hello, people, I don't have the plague. Then a face mask might create a problamo for the dentista. I am given not only a pillow for my head but one for my lower back. I'm starting to like this.

OK, on the left is the spit bowl. Question, why does the spit bowl not have running water in it anymore, is it something to do with the EPA? I remember when I was a kid the spit bowl had water whizzing around. As you can see I am easily entertained. Continuing on the left, three devices, one to suck, one to blow, one to spray. On to the right, this is where the really dangerous stuff resides, five items with long hoses attached.

Standard dental light with 22 baffles in the reflector, 30 2x2' ceiling squares. I started to count the holes in the ceiling tile but gave up at one thousand six hundred three. It's better than thinking about that high speed whine. But, it's not like I am going anywhere, might as well count things. Over to the blinds which are closed. Maybe they don't won't the outside world knowing what they are doing to me.

Upper and lower cabinets all white, with the obligatory stainless pull knobs. Speaking of the upper cabinets, whats up there? I have never in my 67 plus years seen them opened at any dentist office. My theory is that is where HOPE resides in Pandora's Box. If you have an opportunity you might open one of the upper cabinets when they aren't looking. If you find Pandora's Box you are own your own.

I digress.

Ever wonder what the Dentists and their assistant are doing behind you? It must be something nefarious ... otherwise, why would they be hiding back there. Just a thought. Since I am laying on my back might as well check, no there are no spider webs in the ceiling corners. Boy was I bored until the reason for my being where I was came back to me in a hurry. We seem to be getting down to what is euphemistically called the "real nitty-gritty," or the Novocaine may be getting a little low. Either that, are we are close to end.

All the work was coming to a nice conclusion when it came to me. The reason for the $ 3,250.00 difference in two crowns in the US and Mexico was I did not get a movie. I was so looking forward to seeing The Horse Whisperer again. I was sorely disappointed but, I suppose I have $3,250.00 good reasons to console myself. As I started this conversation I said "NO WAY". I suppose the correct answer is "WAY".

Remember God only gives us a certain number of days. I don't plan on wasting the ones I have left.

Until we talk again.

Mike

I Thought Retirement Meant Less Work

Living in Mexico takes a little more effort. What does a "little more effort" mean? It means there are many little things that one must do on a daily basis that one just doesn't usually encounter north of the border.

Kay and I open the house in the morning. Which consist of opening a number of doors, and windows throughout the house while making sure the screens are closed. The house is nether heated or air conditioned as most homes in this part of Mexico. Therefore, one must ensure the best air flow through the day. If it starts to rain, some of the aforementioned chores must be reversed. Since the house is two stories plus a mirador, that's a fair amount of up and down the stairs; three flights to be exact.

The kitchen is medium, but has no dishwasher or ice maker, yes I spill water on the floor each time I fill the trays. Dishes and utensils, must be allowed to air dry, because thry are washed and rinsed in non-potable water. I am told this process will not make the dishes sterile, but acceptable and won't make us sick (remember Montezuma?). We do not have a house hold water purifier.

For some reason the upper cabinets in the kitchen are set at 24" above the counter tops which makes it impossible for Kay to reach the upper shelves without a stool. Since Mexican people are not known to be tall, I am somewhat puzzled by this. The stove is gas, which is fine. However, the temperature in the oven is difficult to regulate. There is no temperature displayed on the knob; simply, low, medium and high. I think it is simply a quality issue, or this is how ovens are made in Mexico. Bettye brought an oven thermometer with her when she came. We still cannot accurately regulate the oven temperature.

The laundry has both washer and drier. After setting controls, both have to be started by a switch on the machines. The drier has a 110-volt element which takes longer than an American dryer. Plus a Mexican Maytag, a sink/wash board combination. Many Mexican women have washers, but just do not see the need for a dryer since the sun/wind will do the same in less time ... and cheaper.

The house water is gravity fed, from a storage tank on the roof. You have a pump which delivers water to the roof from a cistern in the ground. It operates through a float switch when the roof tank needs filling. The only major draw back to gravity fed water is if you are enjoying a shower and some one decides to flush the toilet. Yikes! The water temperature changes in a hurry ... and not for the better. One can have a pressurized water system. This increases the cost to build, plus a pressurized water system increases the electric bill. There is what is fondly (or unfondly) referred to as the "death penalty clause" in the electric company's billing. You do not want those rates. However, we've learned that you have to have a pretty big house and a lot of electric use in order to have to pay those rates. I think we may be safe on those counts.

In order to have potable drinking water, we make two trips to Walmart every month for 4 5-gallon bottles of drinking water, twenty gallons each time, at a cost of $16.00 per trip. That little feat means that you get to haul eight 5 gallon bottles of water weighting 40 lbs each out to the car, then home and into the house. No wonder I am loosing weight! Did I share with you that at least 10 gallons (2 bottles) are needed on the second floor each month? The water that's delivered to the second floor then must be pumped in to a pitcher for transport to the separate bath rooms as needed. If all this seem a little much, remember Mexicans don't drink water from the tap. Actually, nobody drinks water from the tap unless they pay for a water purification system.

The ceiling fan/light combinations must be adjusted as the needs arise for air flow and light during both day and night. There are some three-way switches in this house, but not like the US, so there is more walking to accomplish the levels needed. Even though we have screens there is a need to kill more flies, than back home. Those buggers get in the house somehow! We have a fly swatter in every room.

During the rainy months we do not have to water, otherwise there are plants and flowers to water both in and out. There are sprinkler systems around but not many. Here in San Antiono Tlayacapan the flora grows spring, summer, fall, and winter; which requires a great deal of clipping, pruning and hauling to the trash. The front terrace (of the casa) must be swept each day. I don't know why, it's what Mexican women do each morning. So I do the same (I think I may have the roles reversed, or maybe I'm the gardener, which are usually men).

Mexico is, for the most part, a cash society, however that is changing. One is constantly thinking, do I have enough cash to do what I need to do? Some bank ATMs will let you have 3000 Pesos, that's around $225.00 at a rate of 13.25 peso to the dollar; some only 1500 pesos. That seems like a fare amount of cash, right? Think about it. $100.00 at the food store, $50.00 for car gas, lunch out $12.00. We have yet to cover the doctor, dentist, meds, oil changes, car washes, movies, church contribution, etc.

If it sound like I am complaining, please forgive. Kay and I are enjoying our new life here in Mexico. I have always enjoyed living in different cultures, and we now have an opportunity to learn from some of the most kind gentle people I have ever met here "Lakeside" at Lake Chapala in the state of Jalisco, Mexico.

Remember, God only gives us a certain number of days. I don't plan on wasting the ones I have left.

Until we talk again.

Mike

The Lime Tree

Lets see limes, hum, OK I have seen them in California, Florida, even here in Mexico there no big deal right? Wrong! I had made it 67 1/2 years without a lime tree. I did not even know I needed one until the lady (my radishing or is it ravishing bride) the one who hits me in the head at night when I snore too loud, told me, we could not live without one.

So it's off to the tiengue ("tee ANG ee" open market) we go here in Ajijic, Jalisco, Mexico. Not studying Horticulture in college, I decided on a nice six footer. Lots of leaves, a number of real-to-goodness limes hanging from it's limbs. Plus many flowers which will turn into, with luck, you guessed it -- limes. The whole thing all green. Well the leaves were green the trunk was a shade of grey green.

My first limes, I was so proud. No, I don't mean like the first time I saw my first born, but close. Well off to get our Toyota Venza, that red v6 awd wonder. I knew the day I bought the Venza, a day would come when I would be hauling things in it, little did I know it would be a lime tree.

One of the first things one learns (for me the hard way) about a lime tree is that it has THORNS. No we are not talking pricks or small sticks. This hummer has thorns that will put a rose bush to shame. Not being armed with the aforementioned knowledge I proceed to take the lime tree from the nice fellow who is selling them out of the back of his green pickup truck.

Now, not wanting to let the lime tree salesman know that I am complete idiot when it comes to the physical property's of lime trees, I smile as the pain I am feeling in my hand plus the thorns which had stabbed me in the fore head. I make hasty retreat. Heading for the Venza before I bleed to death.

What a deal, lets see $150 pesos for the tree, and other $300 pesos for the three foot high by three foot wide pot, plus $50 pesos for fill dirt, $100 pesos for fertilizer, and the $50 pesos to Francisco and his friend to haul it up to the mirador and re-pot it for me. I am out a total of $650 pesos for a lime tree I did not know I even needed. That's about $60 USD at that day's exchange rate. At present, the tree has a total of 6 limes, plus twenty blooms. Understand, the blooms should turn in to limes if I can get the bugs to leave them alone.

I pulled one of the largest limes yesterday, well not exactly pulled, you see I was messing with it and it came off in my hand. Guess it was ripe. Down to the kitchen I go, cut the lime in half. Yep, tastes like a lime only not the kind you find at Walmart in the US. This tasted special.....better.

Please understand that in Mexico there are about 50 million limes sold in this country every day. I mean it's not like there is a shortage. Maybe it's the national fruit? If you go to the store, there they are ... thousands of them ... stacked three feet high ... and they're cheap ... about $9 pesos per kilo.

Lets figure, if I get 25 limes a year from this tree at about a 1/2 penny each that's a dollar every eight years. If I have a few bumper crops I could recoup my investment in, oh, about 50 years. Maybe my children or grand children can enjoy them. What a bargain hunter I turned out to be. It's a good thing we needed that tree.

Remember God only gives us a certain number of days. I don't plan on wasting the ones I have left.

Until we talk again.

Mike

Who was the White Mouse?

OK, I admit it, I am a HISTORY NUT.

The average person doesn't know who Nancy Grace Augusta Wake was.  She was born August 30, 1912.

Trained as a nurse, she worked in England as a newspaper reporter before the war. She was able to interview Hitler in 1933. That interview changed her life. She fought in Europe during WWII. During this time the Gestapo killed Henry Fiocca, her first husband. They tortured him until he died, trying to find the location of the WHITE MOUSE. That's what German Intelligence called Nancy Wake. It was said she was a beautiful small woman ... until the fighting started -- at which time she fought like five men.

Nancy spent most of WWII fighting in France. She is said to have saved several thousand Allied solders', plus others', lives through her efforts. Legend has it, she killed a German solider with her bare hands; broke his neck. I guess the Resistance Directorate Special Ops training paid off. Decorated by four countries for heroism, duty and bravery, she was honored with a total of eleven medals.

She remarried after WWII to a British RAF pilot John Forward who died in 1997. Wake went back to Australia for a number of years after the war, then returned to Britain. Nancy died a few weeks ago (August 7, 2011) in a nursing home for old soldiers in Britain. Ninety-eight years old -- almost made it to 99.

If you would like to learn more of the "White Mouse," just check the internet.

The media tells me that heroes are professional athletes and Hip-Hop artists.There are not many heroes left to look up to anymore. I think I found one. If you are looking for one you might consider Nancy THE WHITE MOUSE Wake.

Remember God only gives us a certain number of days. I don't planing on wasting the ones I have left.

Until we talk again.

Mike

Scorpions, Kay, and Judge Roy Bean

You ask what do scorpions, my wife Kay, and Judge Roy (the hanging judge) Bean have in common?   If you remember Judge Bean (of West Texas fame) would tell the defendants before him in the court room. Oh we're going to give you a trial first, then we will hang you.





About 50 plus years ago Kay, living in Texas, awoke in the middle of the night to find she was sharing her pajamas ...

... with a scorpion.





A condition apparently the scorpion was not to pleased about.


Anyway, the scorpion proceeded to let Kay know just how unhappy it was with the cohabitation of said clothing. In fact the scorpion made its presence known three times prior to Kay's decision to let the scorpion have the PJs to itself. As one might deduce from such an experience, Kay, how shall we say, has little love for scorpions.


Well as fate would have it, now that we are living in Mexico. A scorpion appeared in our living room. Much to the scorpion's surprise, or should I say it's misfortune, Kay found it first. Well, as you might understand the poor scorpion did not even get a trial. Just ... BAM! BAM! BAM!


I suppose that even after 50 plus years Kay has still not forgiven scorpions for the previous incident. Just goes to show scorpions may forget, but elephants and my wife DO NOT. There is a lesson in there for me somewhere, I will just have to figure it out.

Remember God only gives us a certain number of days, I don't plan on wasting the ones I have left.

Until we talk again.

Mike

A visit to the Principle's office

It happened when I was a sophomore at Childersburg High School in the spring of 1960.  It involved a friend, Leslie McInnish.  My thanks goes to Leslie's family from whom I received permission to write this story.

Now when the honeysuckle started to bloom in Talladega County, Alabama, something happened in my brain. I think it had something to do with testosterone. As fate would have it, Leslie and I were in Mrs. Nix's 10th grade English class.  And if memory services me correctly it was fifth period. Now at that time of day I was not really interested in learning the past perfect tense of anything.

I was minding my own business … probably day dreaming about something or looking out the window. That may have been the reason why the highest grade I ever earned in any high school English class was a D+. 

All of a sudden I felt the corner of the desk behind me starting to protrude through the wood slats into my back.  Now, I should explain. Childersburg High school was county school in 1960 and was introducing new desks, part wood-part metal, and taking out the old solid wood one's that weighed 6o pounds.  However, the transition to all new was several years in the making; thus causing many classes to have mixed furniture. Well, as “luck” would have it, Leslie had a new one, while I was sitting in front of Leslie, in an old one.

Being the nice guy I am. I turned and pushed the desk back through the slats and out of my back. Problem solved.  Well that did not last long.  As I was “intently taking in every word” from Mrs. Nix concerning a dangling participle, here comes that desk top again. Thinking that my friend had simply made a mistake the first time, I now realize that his conduct was, how shall we say, questionable?  At this point I turned to find Leslie grinning from ear to ear.  Now anyone who knew Leslie would say, yep, that's the Leslie I knew.

Realizing that a harsh look had not worked, I turned to Leslie and explained in hushed tones STOP!  Well maybe not so hushed, because at this point Mrs. Nix noticed that I had disrupted her English class. After my outburst Mrs. Nix requested my presence at her desk for a conference, at which point I was told I better not do that again or there would be consequences.  Being duly admonished I returned to my desk.  For a short period there was a calm. I thought "maybe it's over." NOT.

Here comes the desk again.  At this point the few cells in my male 16-year-old brain that were functioning told me it was time for action.  Standing up quickly, I turned to see Leslie with that grin.  I grasp the desk top that had caused me so much discomfort in the past several minutes, lifted it.  The end result was something to watch, which I must admit gave me a certain amount of pleasure, as Leslie's desk and contents went over backwards.  The sound, as I remember, was like that of a watermelon being dropped as his head hit the floor.  If you remember, those desks had no way of keeping books contained.  So out came Leslie's books all over the floor.  To say it created a scene was a bit of an understatement. Leslie, at this point was in shock.  And, as you can imagine, the class was in total disarray.

Leslie and I were told to go to the hall, a favorite parking spot for Mrs. Nix’, how shall I say, less desirable students.  It was not long until Mr. Boozer, the Principal, arrived.  After a short discussion between Mrs. Nix and Principle Boozer off to the principal's office we go.

To make a long story shorter we each took five licks. Stung like hell. That paddle had holes in it!  A question, since I did not take physics in high school, “do holes in the paddle increase its speed?”  Just a thought.

I can't remember if Leslie made it back to the Principles office again (give me a break … it been over 51 years).  I know I didn't.  Leslie was a nice guy who left us way too soon.

As you read my Blog, take a moment and have a little grin for Leslie, he would like that.

   In memory of Leslie McInnish July 12, 1943 - December 24, 1966.

Remember, God only gives us a certain number of days. I don't plan on wasting the ones
 I have left. 

Until we talk again.

Mike

Rouge elephants and young males

I was reading a few years ago about a problem concerning young rouge elephants.  It seams that because of over population, dough, or just poor planning.  One of the African countries with several large game reserve, decided to move a number of elephants from one reserve to and other.  Apparently, without a great deal of forethought or planning.  I am sure this effort was undertaken with the best of intentions.  If this is starting to sound like a government you know, raise your hand.

Anyway, as central planning usually goes, remember the old Soviet Union?  Well it wasn't long until things started to go, shall we say "south in a hurry". As Jim Nabor's on the Andy Griffin show, used to say" surprise, surprise".   The problem it seems was and abundance of teenage male elephants, without adult supervision. They  were running around harassing the female and baby elephants plus the rhinos.

What to do? The solution was, as in most issues of this type.  Look what has worked in the past.  Like for thousands of years, God's laws through nature work.  With the introduction into the herd of some old bulls, within a short period of time. Viola, problem solved.  Why can't we in the USA, or for that matter Europe, provide adult male leadership to young men before they reach the point where there only alternative is the streets and or prison?

Please don't ascribe this analogy to any particular race or ethnicity. I will not be bullied or silenced by the PC police.  If the shoe fits?

Remember, God only gives us a certain number of days. I don't plan on wasting the ones I have left.

Until we talk again.

Mike

ENGLISH the class room subject not the language

The language seems reasonable enough.  Not the stuff you must learn in school. Now if someone asks me, "Do you speak, understand, write, English?" I say, "why yes I do". I never understood why I needed to spend the next 12 years studying a subject which I had pretty much mastered before the first grade. You know what I am saying? Then in the ninth grade I was told  if I planned to graduate from high school (which at that point,  according to my father was at best 50/50)  I would have to endure 4 additional years of what I was doing since the I was small.

Now let me see, hummmm, one hour a day, 5 days a week, four weeks a month,  nine months a year for 12 years holy cow that's 129,600 minutes of my life. That doesn't include college. Are you kidding me? Don't answer that. It's a rhetorical question. What does rhetorical mean?  Hey Wisenstein your the one who just spent 129,600 minutes of your life studying English. Well there's a good chunk of my life i"ll never get back.

Funny, the subject of English is not even called English until one reaches the seventh grade  Before that we are told we are in spelling, grammar, reading, or writing class.  What's the big secret?   Helloo, it's called English.  I mean are they embarrassed to tell the truth?

As I remember the only class in high school I was taken out of, thrown out of, asked to leave (you get the picture) was, if my memory serves me correctly, Mrs. Nix's Tenth grade English class.  I wasn't a bad student I just didn't see the need to spend a inordinate amount of time studying a dangling participle for Pete's sake.

What is the past pluperfect tense of "break"? "I believed I had broken my leg."  Hey you're the one who is suppose know this stuff not me.

Remember, God only gives us a certain number of days. I plan not to waste the ones I have left.

Until we talk again.

Mike

I gotta Learn (MEXICAN) Spanish

I gotta learn Spanish. Actually classes started in September. Understand people, I had a hard enough time getting through English, a language I already spoke. Highest grade I ever made in English was in the 10th grade was a D+, my dear mother cried, she was so proud. English, a subject I will deal with in another blog.

I went to the liquor store today. Can I say that ... being a church goer and all. Anyway, where was I? Oh ya liquor store. Not being the best speller in the fifth grade and dyslexic to boot, I am reading the labels at the store I can't mention. Well people, I have tried the Jose Cuervo Original Margartia Mix and found it, how shall we say, lacking. So on the shelve up pops, my dear conneseurs of the Margarita, Margarita Careyes. My mind says, a margarita mix, very cool, "NOT". Actually Margarita Careyes is a margarita drink with, guess what's in it, TEQUILA. Go Figure.

After arriving at my casa (home) it's off to the cocina (kitchen). I go with above said "mix" in hand. Standard mix ... one part tequila two parts tequila mix, fresh squeezed lime juice, a little salt on the rim (am I making you thirsty)? Two guacamole, onion, tomatoes, garlic, salt, cilantro, and lime . Voila! Guacamole. Grab the trusted Tostitos. Off to the patio I go. Call my bride of 27 plus years to join me . Her first comment was, isn't this margarita a little bitter? Well being the great bartender I am, I said "NO". "Seems, a little bitter to me" was her reply.

This started a conversion. What's in Margarita Careyes? After additional study it turns out that the main ingredient is. You guessed it, TEQUILA. Not being one to waste good distilled spirits. I drank both glasses. Mexico is a learning process, I am getting there.

Please understand, I have been trying to write this blog with way too much Tequila in my system.

Remember : God only gives a certain number of days. I don't plan on wasting the ones I have left.

Until we talk again.

Mike

Lunch at restaurant El Porton

Sunday lunch started normally. The El Porton is located in a suburb of Guadalajara called Tlaquepaque [tlah key PAH key]. Think of a Mexican Denny's. Kay ordered a coconut&chicken plate with some mashed potatoes with a mild red chili gravy (a weird sauce) . Me, I am in the land of Montezuma. So I go for the tortilla (Aztec) soup with guacamole on the side. So far so good. We ordered the coka zero. Now understand, two cold coka zeros arrive with three glasses. Two empty, one with ice. The idea being if you need ice, cool, just share. Put it in the empty glasses. I really don't need ice, the coke is cold. Kay gets the ice.

One must understand with a meal at Denny's south, and most restaurants of this ilk, they don't throw napkins around like there is no tomorrow. The rule is, one person, one napkin, and there really small, thin and not very absorbent. Lunch comes and we start.

The guac is smooth, the chips are crisp, the tortillas warm. I go after the soup. Well it's not long, I start to cough. I now notice, not only are my throat, tongue and lips on fire , I have somehow managed to rub my eyes ... which have now started to water profusely. With no way to see my bride sitting 3 feet away. I now reach for the lonely napkin laying some where to my left. When a voice passes through my hearing aids saying your face is red, go figure.

As fate would have it, yes, over goes all of my coka zero because I had managed to pour the complete contents of the can in said glass. Remember as I stated, I am the one who needs no ice.

Kay jumps to avoid the coka zero,since it heads directly at her. Me, I haven't a clue since I am blind because my eyes are now full of tears. I can't see ANYTHING. I manage to feel around and find my napkin. Place it in what looks like a light brown lake.

Remember our previous conversation concerning the napkins. Well folks, Bounty or the quicker-picker-upper this ain't. Kay adds her napkin to the lake. I reach for my back left pocket surely my nose blower is at the ready. Not a chance ... left that at home. I look through my very watery eyes for a waiter, NOWHERE IN SIGHT.

Here we sit. It's time for the old standby ... my sleeve. At least now I can see.

Remember God only gives us a certain number of days, I don't plan no wasting the ones I have left.

Until we talk again.

Mike

Why did I Move to Mexico?

My first answer I thought would be quick and easy.  As I spend more time reflecting on what, or how, I will answer the question became much more complicated.

First let me say that reaching the decision to leave one's family (especially the children and grandchildren) plus friends is one which was not taken lightly. After a several years of study I believe we came to the best choice.

No, I am not fed up with the government.  However, I do believe we are in need of some changes.

Let me state, we, Americans have the best country on earth. We have some problems. However, WE WILL FIX THEM! We don't have a choice. They will be fixed or we as the greatest nation on earth will cease to exist.

How this decision was reached is one in which many personal issues and preferences were entertained.  For example, how much will it cost to move, set up a home, and live? What to do with home and furnishings:  sell or rent? What do you take?  What do you sell, give away or store? We do tend to accumulate things over time.

What do you plan to do with your leisure time? Can you find things of interest to do? Will you travel while living there? Where would one go to church? How would you communicate with home and at what cost  How will you deal with transportation? How often do you plan to return home, and at what cost?  What if there was an emergency here, or back home ... either physical or financial ... how is it dealt with?  How fast, and at what cost, would you be able to get home? How do you handle medical care/medicines?  All of these questions were reviewed and dealt with. To not do so will, in my opinion set one up for some very difficult times.

One very large question remains, where is home now? I remember when our youngest son was five we went through several tough years ... we had to move a lot. One day Drew ask Kay "mommy, where is home?" Her excellent reply was "wherever mommy and daddy are." You see, it doesn't matter where you live. If there is love, you're home.  Wherever Kay is, that's home for me.

Now lets deal with the elephant in the room. Security, or the lack there of.  Please let me state unequivocally that I have now, nor will I in the future take unnecessary risks with my life or Kay's.  Having said that understand a few rules we follow.

1. I don't travel at night. Why you ask?  Because Mexico has open range laws, too much live stock, and at times too poor fences. Too many people driving without proper lights, reflectors on there cars, motorcycle's, bicycle's.  Street lights that don't always work as one might think they should. That doesn't mean that I would not drive to the pharmacia to get some meds if the need arose.  For reference please note my musing Driving While Still Alive in Mexico. 


2. I do not visit bars on any regular basis day or night.  Having said that doesn't mean I never have a beverage with dinner.

3. I follow to the best of my ability all the laws of Mexico.

4. I am careful with whom I spend my time. Is this beginning to sound like an OLD PERSON?  Don't answer that.

I live in  a community where I see women Mexican and Americian walking alone on the streets both day and night . I have talked with many women who tell me that they feel perfectly safe here walking are riding the buses alone.  I know of no deaths in this area in the last 30 years. Is there crime, drugs? I am sure.  If it's drugs  I would guess the vast preponderance would be some old 60's hippy pulling on a toke.

The point I am trying to make is this. Is Mexico dangerous YES, so is the good old USA. I am very careful to avoid places where I would have contact with people who might do me harm.  Please don't tell me you go any where you please day or night with out thinking of the danger. Of course not.

Now for the answer to my question.  Why I Moved to Mexico? 

First a quick diversion. The word wanderlust comes from the German meaning "to wander."  I remember when my wanderlust started I was living in a small town Childersburg, Alabama. Going to elementary school (the fourth grade) we had a small library in our building. This was my first introduction to National Geographic magazine.  I know, you thought 4th grade boys only looked at NG to see pictures of the topless African women.

From that day forward I went to that library as often as they would let me. Being dyslexic, and not knowing it, I looked at pictures a lot, because reading was difficult. I found a big world out there I had no idea existed. I knew if possible I would see and experience as much of that great big world as I possibly could.

I have lived in three countries and travel to many others.  I find different cultures to be both interesting and stimulating. I found many good and a few bad people everywhere I have been.  Beside the universal language, a smile and laughter has always worked.  According to Kay, since I am a male all I have to do to communicate is point and grunt.  Works for me.

 Remember: God only gives us a certain number of days, I plan not to waste the ones I have left.

Until we talk again.

Mike

Is living in Mexico cheaper?

Good question. The answer is ....

Yes and no. I mean, how many boxes of Cheerios do you want at $ 6.50 per box? I don't mean the large one. Just scoop up all you want. To me $85 pesos is a little stiff. The good news is that you can get your 2000 SF home cleaned for 150 pesos $11.60 (4 hours).

When one looks around at the food stores like Walmart, Soriana (the biggies), some prices are lower. However, if you want American brands there is usually a 25% premium. One thing to remember is IVA is 16%, but not for med's. The tiengue [tee ANG eh] (out-door market) is a source. They are busy crowded, loud, colorful, and in general, lots of fun. Prices seem to be a little lower. However, one must be careful to check the quality.

If you go to the ATM they charge 1% of the total to change dollars to pesos. All places if they take credit cards at all, will charge 1%. I guess they don't want to eat the bank charge.

Many things in Mexico are less expensive, car repairs, hair cuts, manicures, pedicures, bus rides, and entertainment are probably 25% less. To see a doctor or dentist is about $20.00 a specialist a little more or you can have the government health plan for $400.00 per year. Covers everything including med's. The government subsidizes electricity and fuel (Pemex). Dry cleaning and laundry seem to be about the same.

One exception is all electrical, electronic appliances and furniture at least a 10% premium. Also the quality seems a little off on sum products. Internet/cell/phone service is about the same. We have to buy bottled drinking water at about $25.00 per month, for three people. You may install a water purification system. Mail service is not great, so we spend $250.00 in the states and $400.00 in Mexico per year so we are assured that we get our mail. Cable/satellite, same as the states.

Now let's discuss housing. In our town you can rent a small one bed room one bath Mexican style home, no garage, heat, AC, fans, water pressure and a Mexican kitchen for $150.00 a month. Most Americans would not think of living in such a place. On the opposite end there are a few $1,000,000.00 homes here. As in all places it come down to location, location.

Question: what do Paris, London, and New York City have in common? They're all expensive. Where you move to Mexico from will have an effect on how much cheaper you feel things are. Generally you will spend less for a home here than many places. How much less will depend on your taste, and needs. Do you require pressurized, purified water at the tap? Do you require a bath tub, or will a shower work, OK? Do you need a home for your car to live in? We are not discussing safety here that is a forgone conclusion.

As an example, We are renting a 3 bdrm 3 bath 2200 sf townhouse, with most American features, fully furnished for $800.00 per month. Are there places for $750 to $700 that would have worked? Yes, but having to rent our first home site unseen (we had lots of pictures) This is the route we took. We are happy with our choice.

Can one live on $1100.00 per month? Yes, but not very well. No car for sure. This suits some people just fine. Probably a good minimum for most would be $1,200 to $1,500 for a single person, and $1,700 to $2,300 for a couple. Do we spend more? "yes."

Fuel, for the car, Manga (regular) is about $3.15 a gallon.  It is subsidized through PEMEX, (the government oil company of Mexico). It is all pumped by an attendant. ou do not pump your own gas. Which means that he/she is expecting a tip. This adds a little to the overall cost.

Another conversation one must have is geography. Mexico is a large country, it cost more to live where others want to live, than living where no one wants to live. However, if you are willing to forgo a few comforts, things become cheaper. The closer you are willing to live like the average Mexican lives the cheaper life becomes.

As with with all things, life is a series of choices. Some better some worse.

Remember: God only gives us a certain number of days. I don't plan on wasting the ones I have left .

Until we talk again.

Mike

Driving while still alive in Mexico

A few  things one learns in Mexico after driving for even a short period of time, is that there are many unwritten rules one must observe.  For those of you who have never had the beegeebers scared out of you, or have never reached for the HELP ME JESUS HANDLE, thats the one usually found over the door windows or have never had the pleasure of driving in the land of Montezuma, allow me to expand  a few.

Rule Numero Uno: When driving on any road, airport runway, pig trail, ditch, bridge, carratera, over- or under-pass, whether libre (free) or cuota (toll) there are one of two speeds one must maintain. You ask "what? pray tell!"  Yes, they are 40 and 80 ... not kilometers. No sports fans, I am talking (MPH) good old American miles per hour. These speeds are maintained no matter the weather, visibility, condition of the road, curved or straight as an arrow, whether paved, dirt, or under construction.

Rule Numero Dos: Neither the brand, condition , age, value, service records or lack their of, for any automobile has any thing remotely to do with Rule Numero Uno.  

Rule Numero Tres: Speed bumps are best hit (literally) at as high a rate of speed as one can achieve (minding the vehicle in front of you is moving out of your way). The reason for this is that more than likely your entire vehicle at this point in time is airborne (think Starcky & Hutch) so as to pass over said encumbrance with as little time spent on this device as possible. Don't worry about the suspension, undercarriage, tires, or aliment.  It will all be just fine.

Rule Numero Quatro:  Large trucks which have a great amount of difficulty maintaining the 40 MPH (see Rule Numero Uno) going up steep hills have no problemo reaching or surpassing the 80 MPH going down the other side.

RULE Numero Cinco: If there is at least one inch (or is it centimeter) of clearance on either side of one's vehicle that's plenty of room. You can all ways turn the mirrors in. "Hey, he needs a new paint job anyway."

Rule Numero Seis: Federal Policia have mental telepathy and are clairvoyant. They must be, otherwise how could they have stopped me south of San Luis Potosi for driving 120 KM in a 110 KM zone, when my cruise control was set dead on 110 KM.  P.S these guys had no radar. 875 pesos ($70 lighter) and I was on my  way.

Rule Numero Siete:   Possession is nine tenths of the law.  If you see and opening to get your car through, take it, it belongs to you. Other wise why would it be there in the first place? It's your God given right.

Rule Numero Ocho:  One way street?  Of course, I am only going one way. Why do you ask?

Remember: God only gives us a certain number of days. I plan not to waste the ones I have left .

Until we talk again.

Mike

Do I REALLY Live in Mexico?

Let's see ...
The address is

Ramon Corona  #170 Interior # 19 

Coto Los Lirios

San Antonio Tyalacapan, Jalisco

Mexico 45915

... yep, so far so good.

Nice home, lots of art on the walls.

Three bed rooms, three baths, living room with 47" Samsung TV, dinning room (with a really cool 6'-8" tall and 3'-diameter beautifully glazed pot).

There's a terrace with table, 4 chairs, umbrella, large potted plants, BBQ grill, and a great view of the pool, all the normal stuff you'd expect in a condominium complex...in America or Canada.




We have a mirador with a killer view (what is a mirador? an enclosed roof top terrace), I will try to cover miradors in a future blog. A mirador is very Mexican.


Now where was I? Oh yeah, we have a laundry room with washer and drier, even a Mexican-Maytag. Not my words, that's what a Mexican friend called it, which is a sink with a built in rub board.

We have 3 TV's with cable. Hot water, you bet, most of the time, when we have water. Water we don't have right now. I checked the neighbors, also no water over there either, hmmmm. (We discover later that the water to the complex from the municipal water has for some reason been turned off.) It's Sunday morning and I guess Kay goes to church with dirty hair. I took my bath last night Ha! I just remembered, I need to brush my teeth no problem, we have bottled water.

I suppose that makes us all in this ship of fools together. This morning I am reminded of the Stone's song "YOU DON'T ALL WAYS GET WHAT YOU WANT, BUT GET WHAT YOU NEED". So true here in Mexico.

As I go for my morning walk each day I greet people on the street, buenos dias, they usually reply the same, unless they are from New York then they say "YO," or Minnesota, then it's "EH" or Texas then it's "Hi Y'all."

I was in Walmart the other day here in Ajijic and I had a question about mango. Are the green ones no bueno and the red ones bueno? So I look around for a nice lady to whom I might ask. I walk up to this lady smiled  and ask. Her reply was "HELL, I don't know!" Now I have moved 2,000 miles to Mexico only to run into someone from New York, go figure. Seriously I have found the people here in San Antonio are very kind to a Viejo from Alabama.

We attend the church at the Iglesia de Christo Tlaquepaque. The minister is Mexican. The songs, sermon, and service are all conducted in Spanish. The church is in a very Mexican neighborhood. The service is 2 hours long, with the sermon a full 1 hour and 20 minutes....en espanol.

As I look out my second story office window I see two futbol (soccer) fields. As usual some of the games are quite good, some, well," hey" they're free. The neighbors across the way, Barry from Canada, and Emily from Greece, teach the kids futbol two afternoons a week. There are two official season. Barry was with the national soccer team of Canada as their sports physician for a number of years. We also have another neighbor, Jaime Carlos, who played futbol with the Jalisco State futbol team.

Our gated community has 8' high walls all around. Wouldn't want to have to meet the neighbors you know. But this is very common throughout the villages. The complex has a make-up of approximately 40 % Mexican, 40% Canadian, and 20% American. We have a cabana near the pool and met a lot of nice neighbors there the other night at the meet and greet.

We have a gardener/gatekeeper, Jose, who does a great job with the common areas and the trash.  Down by the road we have a large double entrance gate made of iron. We have a remote key for when we are in the car. Don't really have to slow down much when coming or going [speed demon that I am....not]. It can even be operated from the house phone. You dial the special number, and say esta aqui, we say bueno and dial #01 from our phone and Velado! the gate opens and we don't have to walk to the gate to let you in.

Up on the carraterra (main road) Bubba's BBQ has all the catfish you can eat on Friday nights for 120 pesos. There is one Chinese restaurant, at least three Italian restaurant, a German restaurant and a Thai restaurant. Plus a beaucoup of Mexican places.

Down at the end of our gated drive, during the mornings one can see the caballeros towing many horses to La Floresta, the next neighborhood to the west. Here they will wait for customers all day, sitting on the stone walls in the median and talking to each other and watching their horses eat grass.

Actually not a bad spot during the summer, many trees, which provide lots of shade for both man and equine. One question, the caballeros drink coke and agua during the day (no beer) why? My guess is that it would look bad for business, what with leading children on horse back rides and all. Also, I guess they wouldn't want to fall off their horse on the way home. And what's with the sword on the white horse's saddle?

For the most, people speak the Mexican language except for the Huichole Indians who live along the north side of Lake Chapala. The Huichole are a story for another day, interesting people.

In my car I can drive to the Guadalajara Airport in 30 minutes. With a two hour flight I can be in Houston or Dallas, Denver in three.

To answer my original question. Do I live in Mexico? Maybe yes. Maybe no.

Remember, God only gives us a certain number of days. I don't plan on wasting the ones I have left.

Until we talk again.

Mike

1950's Church Rules

The things I am about to share with you are not now, nor have they ever been to my knowledge written in any of the worlds languages, nor have they been seen on the walls of any church, synagogue, Buddhist temple, or mosque (trust me on this one I lived in Saudi Arabia for several years). It is something that your mother knows. Where she learned it, I haven't a clue. I am talking about "church rules."

The day you come into this world they applied to you. Oh, they are easy at first, but over time they get harder. They come in three groups.

Group One is from birth to about 4 years of age  (the actual age depend's on your mother, it's all a bit iffy). These are the easy ones.

Group Two is from no later than five years until you have completed the sixth grade.

Then the final Group Three: junior high and high school. This is the serious one, here you can actually receive the DEATH PENALTY( more on that later).

Group one:  Do you remember the first time you went to church?  I don't either. All the ladies crowd around and say how cute you were. Are you kidding me?! All red and wrinkled, please! Anyway you are allowed to make as much noise as you like, NO PROBLEMO. You can throw up on your mother and its OK, really. Is life cool or what?  At about the age of one you are now big enough to make some noise. At this point the dreaded 1950's church rules start (you just don't know it). From this day forward life as you have known is about to change. Don't get me wrong it's all still good.

From the age of one forward you get to make noise and act out, but their are consequences. Like if you are disturbing the nice man in front of you. This seems to me a bit odd, I mean how can you disturbing some one who is asleep? Whatever. It's the young women who have the babies because and the old women have stopped doing that stuff.  If your mother gets "the look" from one of the older women, usually one of the elders' wives, the look means, take the kid out!  So off your mother goes up the aisle toward the outside (used to be called the vestibule),  right? Purse, diaper bag, or whatever paraphernalia. Anyway, there she goes, you're screaming, arms flailing, legs kicking and if you have a older sibling they have your mother by the leg. By this time you have noticed that the scenery is changing. You may start to get louder, or with experience, softer. If you get louder it's outside for you, bud. Now at this point life gets a little weird. Not for you but for your mother. I mean here is this poor woman with all this stuff. If she is standing on the church steps you are still screaming. At the church I attended you step thru that door there is no cover. That right sports fans, you are outside. Whatever the weather.

Now the rule on being taken out varied from church to church. Some have the two-time rule, some the three-time. To my knowledge there was no fourth time. Folks, stay with me here, there was no such thing as a "cry room" in those days. I suppose your embarrassed mother could walk to the car. [I say walk to the car because in those days the church was in town, and the cars parked on the street. The first arrivals got to park closer.] And there you two sat until church was over. Alone. I'm sure you were happy as a clam then to be alone with mommy and out of that stuffy place with that "person" droning on and on. You were probably thinking Mommy was happy about that two. You had no clue.

Group Two:  Here life, for boys at least, starts to become some what difficult. The term sexual discrimination to my knowledge was not used in polite company during the 1950's. However, that's what life for boys was all about. Yes, we were were whooped ... and I am not talking about a tap on the butt ... at a rate of 25 times to one, compared to girls. I do not have statistics for that, it's just a gut feeling, OK? If that was not sexual discrimination, I don't know what was.  Where was the EEOC or one of those alphabet government agencies when you needed them.

In Group Two you were usually still sitting with your parents. Hey is was the 50's.  Now the "rules which you are never told" are starting to become more serious.  It starts simple enough ... your mother says in a nice low voice "that's not nice." For a boy that's a challenge. You do it again. Then you get yanked over by your mother.  At this point something in the male brain should be sending at least a small alarm that things are going south. Nah. You do it again. Now, it's up the old aisle for you, bud. At this point in your life you're more than capable of walking. Hell, you could run if you wanted, but who wants to rush to what's about to happen to you?  So you start the famous "digging in of the heels", do a "sit down if possible", hollering "no, no, I'll be good", any thing to slow down that whoopin'.

Now whoopin's have a protocol of their own. They took place by the closest bush to the front door of the church. And if there were a lot of little boys your age, that bush began to get pretty bare. Why you ask? Because the quicker your mother could beat your butt for acting up, the quicker she could get back in church. Makes sense to me. But please answer me this one question. Why don't churches have bushes like that any more? All they have now are pine trees or curly-leaf lugustrum.

Lugustrum lucidum

Now mother's could swat you with a tiny vine or a pine cone.  Anyway. You knew you were in trouble when the leaves started to come off that 3 foot limb. Damn, did those switches sting!

The best part of whoopin's was when they happened to your best friend.  If you were lucky your family would be setting next to the window. That way you could look out the window (talk about fun). We didn't
have GameBoy back then, you got your entertainment where you could find it.

Group Three:  Junior high and high school. When you are allowed to enter group three, I say allowed because their is a hierarchy, with the high school seniors having the final say. Everyone gets in eventually, even if you were uncool, you were allowed in by the tenth grade. With this group the rules are pretty much understood. I was not the brightest bulb in the box and I pretty much had a working knowledge of right and wrong as for as what was allowed in church.  You were not really interested in following the rules as much as you were seeing which ones you could break without getting caught.

THE TEENAGERS, as we were called at church, were looked at by the old people like we had a disease. Anyway, we sat as a group, usually as far as we could away from the front of the church.  Wouldn't want to get too much of that holy stuff on us. The first rule of church teenagers is to see if you can seat 22 kids on a pew suitable for 10 adults.

As I said earlier. we are now ready to discuss the dreaded "DEATH PENALTY."  The death penalty was only given in the most severe cases. It all starts when your mother turns her head in the middle of church and looks back at you. She has to do this because, number one, you are setting in the back with the teenagers, and, number two, because you have created a situation where the whole church now realizes that something has happened. So you get THE LOOK.  Now if there was a brain in your head that would be enough but nooo. You do it again. The sad part to all of this is that you think it's all very funny. That doesn't last very long because up jumps your mother.  Since you haven't a clue the first thought that passes through what's left of the few brain cells that you still have functioning, is she not feeling well?  No, Wisenstein, she's headed your way. At this point fear starts to set in; there is no place to run or hide. Remember that pew with 22 kids sitting together:? Yep, here sits your mother right beside ... you.  You slump down in your seat thinking, "Just shoot you now. Put me out of my misery. Life as I have known it, is over. I will never again be able to face my friends." And she leans over and whispers loudly, "Sit up straight!" Things get very quiet on that pew.

Remember those days? I do. Maybe if we had a little more of that discipline today, the world might be a better place.

Remember: God only gives us a certain number of days. I plan not to waste the ones I have left.

Until we talk again.

Mike

I'm Retired

My first job came in 1955 picking cotton in Mr. Basset's cotton fields at the ripe old age of 11 (boy, was I lousy at that!). In just a few years I had advanced to the level of house painter. Later I became a boat and trailer shop helper at Mr.Murphy's boat shop and finally an electrician's helper in Birmingham, AL.

I then went on to attend Auburn University [WAR EAGLE] for about two years.

My draft status at that time was 1-A with a rather low lottery number and since my college grades, shall we say, weren't all that great I had to make a decision. What to do? As a 20 year old, how does three years in the army or six months active duty then 5 1/2 years in the Alabama National Guard sound? I chose the Guard. But, wait! It's three months before I leave for basic training. As any self respecting young man in 1964, I needed a job and took a three month stint as a tin knocker working for a sheet metal contractor in an Orlon/Rayon plant (terrible job, fumes were awful). Finally, off to the army (but that's a story for another day).

Back home from the army, I enter the electrical field. This is a craft which will carry me for the rest of my career. It was really a great run and took me to many parts of the world! I've managed the electrical construction for car plants in Batavia, OH and Shreveport, LA; high rise office buildings in Dallas, TX and Nashville, TN; and a power plant in Jackson, AL. I even built the electrical for tug boats in Bayou La Batre, AL! I was project manager for electrical construction projects in parts of Saudi Arabia for 3 years. During that time I got to visit Austria (learned to ski here), Switzerland, England, Cyprus, Germany, Belgium and The Netherlands I later managed a time-sensitive, around-the-clock electrical rewiring of a burned-out defense plant in Irving, TX. And then was project manager for the electrical wiring of several Black World projects for the USAF in the Western United States.

Finally, I had the privilege of working the last ten years in one of the most top-secret government facilities in the world: Cheyenne Mountain Air Force Station, Colorado Springs, Colorado. [And, NO, Star Gate SG1 is not housed there.] I consider it an honor to have been able to work in the power generation plant inside that granite mountain ... with NO windows to see outside. I believe the hardest days were in the winter. You see, we worked 12 hour shifts around the clock. I'd go to work before sunrise and come out after sunset. Or when I worked nights early on, I'd go in after sunset and come out before sunrise. That will wear on a person. In my small way I hope I helped keep this country a little safer.

My retirement day came through a series of starts and stops, as the belt-way-bandit (a term used for goverment contractors) for whom I had worked for almost 10 years advised us that the contract would be terminated on September 30, 2010. As the date changed from September to October to November to December then to January to February, it is starting to sound like the government is in charge.  I submitted my resignation; then withdrew it at least twice. Hey, I am trying to hit a moving target here.

The actual contract termination date turned out to be March 31, 2011. But I left on February 11, 2011 because on that date, I completed 10 years of service and not leaving on that date would have cost me about 40 hours of vacation pay.

Anyway the final day came. The usual things one must do when leaving a job with a security clearence were completed around noon. There were good-byes and a few hand shakes. Traditionally, one walks through the double blast doors, catches the bus and rides down through the tunnel to the entrance. Here we get off for the special retirement picture taking. HOWEVER, on this memorable day, they forgot to put film in the camera. AND it really was a camera that still used film, not a digital camera. Hey, Obama was in charge and there'd been budget cuts. What can I say? They have no record of my officially leaving...and neither do I.

If you total it all up I beleive you will find 50 years of work. I am satified with that.

Remember: God only gives us a certain number of days. I plan not to waste the ones I have left .

Until we talk again.

Mike