Skipping School in First Grade

First Grade: Mrs. Novak’s class. By then we were living in the now-non-existent Pleasant Homes Mobile Park on Aviation at the Santa Fe railroad tracks (which, also, are now non-existent). I was allowed to ride my bicycle to school… the first day I was so excited that I was looking back, waving at my mom, when I plowed into the back of a parked car and bloodied my lip. Apparently that didn’t keep me from being able to ride my bike to school, since it wasn’t long before I was skipping school with it.

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"Would you like Tweets with that?"

I drove through a McDonalds yesterday. At the window there is a sign asking "Would you like Tweets with that?" I asked the young woman who was handing me my Coke what a Tweet was.

(Sure, I know, but I'm old and like to be a pain sometimes.)

She looked at first surprised, followed by confused. She didn't know how to answer. She said "It's a computer thing, like Facebook or Myspace."

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Are you ready for Christmas? Here we go! Sing along with me!

 

God rusted Mary's jungle gym; she'd left it in the rain.
I told her she should bring it in, but she said, "It's a pain
to take it down and bring it in and set it up again."
So she left it to rust out in the rain, in the rain;
Mary's jungle gym got rusted in the rain.

 

Perhaps she will think twice next year, of jungle gyms and rain
and take the time to tear it down no matter how much pain
to take it down and bring it in and set it up again;
So it won't be left to rust out in the rain, in the rain;
Perhaps next year she'll save it from the rain.

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Last night's weird dream (caution - violence)

I can still remember it, so here it is:

Scene: Modern day. A desert, mountain range in background. There is some sort of grimy industry, possibly a foundry, with a main structure with another equally grimy structure just west of it that is a railroad car loading or unloading facility. A railroad mainline runs through the scene from the west to the east, horizon to horizon.

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I hear that my father is angry with me.

How does one deal with the elderizing of one's parent(s)?

My father, I am told by a source close to his wife, is quite angry with me due to the role I have played in his inability to drive.

Don't get me wrong, I love my dad and respect him very much. But the fact is, he should no longer be behind the wheel. Driving is a major part of his life, and I think to him it is the last symbol of independence he still has.

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My first remembered spanking ... and cottage cheese

The first spanking I remember ever getting occurred in my grandmother’s kitchen at the breakfast table. Grandma was pouring a glass (actually, an aluminum tumbler) of orange juice for me and I, being the curious tyke I was, moved the tumbler to see if the stream of orange juice would bend and follow the tumbler. Naturally, it didn’t, and my dad was decidedly not happy with me.

I attended Kindergarten and possibly part of First Grade in Mehama at a small two-room school house that still stands there (but is no longer a school). My grandmother was the school’s cook – the cafeteria, if you will, was in the basement of the school. She was a great cook and made everything from scratch. Only things I didn’t like were that she made me eat cottage cheese whenever it was served, and she always put butter on any bread she made sandwiches with, no matter what else was on the sandwich. Even if it was a PB&J. She made PBB&J sandwiches.

I loathe cottage cheese to this day and like butter on my bread when it is only bread and butter, or toast.

- yet another excerpt from my autobio

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