Simple Things

     “IF I COULD, STILL I WOULDN’T,  TAKE NOTHIN’ FOR MY JOURNEY NOW.”

     Those were very important words to me back in 1975. Our family (Dad, uncle, cousin, cousin’s wife and me) had a gospel singing group.  Since my father’s last name was Jackson, we opted to call ourselves “The Jackson Five”. Unfortunately, we did not franchise the name, and it was taken by a group of young black men who sang something other than gospel.  No problem, we just stuck with “The Jacksons”.

     If I were talented enough, I would show you a photo of our little group, but I have not progressed that far into the computer generation. (You’ll have to use your imagination.)  Two of them played guitar (Dad & uncle), cousin played the bass, and the two girls just sang.  We didn’t have a lot of fancy “moves”, we didn’t have anyone who needed to see how long they could hold a note, we just felt the music and let it flow. 

     There were no talent scouts in our audiences, there weren’t even any recordings made (which I regret since I would dearly love to hear my Dad’s voice again.) What we did was share what small talents we had with any churches who wanted to sit and listen.  One of our favorite songs was the one mentioned above, and it seems to sum up a lot of people’s lives.  We all have done a lot of things that we wish we had not (Amen! Brother! Tell it like it is!)  Many politicians today will agree with that sentiment.  But a lot of us would not be the people we are if the mistakes had not been made. (Yeah, right, some of us NEVER learn - but the thought is good!)

     I don’t remember why we stopped, I only know that there are days when the songs fill my head and the words still come back.  I may have forgotten everything else, but I still remember the words to the songs.

     These are the kinds of memories that beg not to be forgotten.  If I could still I wouldn’t take nothin’ for my journey now! (Publishing rights available for a tell-all book if anybody is interested!)

     WHEN I WAS 16 I wanted a 1964 Ford Thunderbird, but instead I was given a l964 Ford Galaxy.  She was black with red interior, and the car was HOT! (Back then we would have said it was COOL - but whatever temperature it was, it was GREAT!)  I thought of that car today, because it was so simple to drive.  The gear shift was on the column, and the dimmer switch was on the floor, just where it should be, (instead of hidden on one of the other switches on the column- I hate washing my windows, when I intended to dim my lights!) The brake pedal was a big wide one that you could stomp with both feet in the event of a quick stop,(instead of the ones now where you’re lucky if you can get a toe-hold on it.) Windshield wipers were either on or off, there was no in between.  The radio had a knob that you could turn to get a clearer signal, unlike the stupid buttons that are on the radio now, which get you almost there.  I didn’t have to decide between radio or CD or cassette tape.  I didn’t have speakers that could blast me out of the car, and my neighbors did not hear me coming from 2 miles away.  If I wanted air conditioning, I rolled the window down.

     She was a great car, and until somebody told my parents, she was the fastest car in the quarter-mile.  All the kids who had cars, (which was few when I was 16) would take them outside of town on a country two-lane, mark off a quarter mile, and race each other.  Never for pinks, just for the glory of saying we won.

      Today I drive a PT Cruiser. I bought it when they first came out because it reminded me of an old Hudson that my dad used to drive.  Now I love my PT Cruiser, but I’ve had it for 8 years, and things have started to go wrong.  Of course, it is paid for - that’s the only time all the weird stuff begins to happen.

     A few months ago I went to the mechanic because the horn wouldn’t honk, and you know you have to have a horn so you can blow at all those idiots who pull out in front of you.  He checked it over and said it was a fuse.  He changed the fuse.  I think it honked once after that, then stopped again.  The radio and the horn are obviously connected in some way, because the lights in the radio don’t work, so I can’t see the clock or what station I’m on. 

     I can live with that.  I have a watch so I know the time, and I listen to the CD player more than the radio.  But what REALLY bothers me, is that my daughter can drive the car, the clock lights up on the radio dial, and the danged horn will honk it’s freakin’ heart out for her!

     This happened today.  Then I got back into the car to drive, the radio/clock light went out, and the flippin’ horn would not honk one beep.  (Christine, the car from the book by Stephen King, must have been reincarnated, and is living in my PT Cruiser.) 

     Oh, well, as they say: “Sometimes you’re the windshield, Sometimes you’re the bug!”

          I read this article that said the typical symptoms of stress are eating too much, sleeping too long, impulse buying and driving too fast.  Are they kidding?  That’s my idea of a perfect day!

     The article also said we should “be in touch with our bodies”.  Mine isn’t all that talkative, but the other day I said, “Body, how about going for a long walk today?” I heard it answer, clear as a bell, saying “Do it and die!”

     Skinny people really piss me off sometimes! They say things like “Oh, I forgot to eat today.” Now I’ve forgotten my keys, my telephone number, my anniversary, or my doctor’s appointment - but I have NEVER forgotten to eat!! 

     One thing (among many) that really irritates me, is that I can spend a whole morning writing out my list for the grocery store, then forget to take it with me. Also I got those little black cloth shopping bags to use at Walmart, to put my groceries in.  Where do you think they are when I’m in the check out line?  Yep, they’re back home on the kitchen table.

     I spent most of the day getting all my receipts gathered up for the tax lady.  Ah, yes, the only time of year when you clean out the car glove-compartment, all the junk drawers, and the filing cabinet, searching for any little scrap of paper that will add to your itemized deductions.    This is also the only time of year that I wish we still had dependent children at home.  We should get some money back, since we paid in enough to erase our share of the national debt. Yes, I look forward to the refund check - we will run right over to McDonalds and blow the whole thing!

     “I DON’T SUFFER FROM INSANITY, I enjoy every minute of it!”

     As if it weren’t enough that I live deep out in the woods, where things could be scary if I let it bother me, I start my day by watching “Chiller” on TV.  If you are not familiar with this channel, it’s 24-7 scary, gory stuff.

     Shows like “Tales from the Dark Side,” “Freaky Links”, “Tales from the Crypt,” and many more.  I wake up around 5 a.m. and start my day with “Freddie’s Nightmares”.  You may know Freddie Kruger - the “Nightmare on Elm Street” fellow with the knives attached to his fingers.  Well, I figure if I can watch creepy stuff first thing in the morning,  my day can only get better from there!  A good dose of horror and mayhem gets the blood pumping and the heart thumping.

     I follow that up with an equally scary hour of local and national news.  Now THAT scares me!  Somebody always got shot or stabbed, or killed their whole family because they lost their job.  Thousands more lost their jobs this week - that should scare any American who is old enough to understand what’s going on.  When the newscaster gets to the Sports section of the morning report, now that always makes me cringe.  Either some coach or some player of football or basketball has just been given millions of dollars - millions of dollars to coach or play a sport.  And I’m not just down on sports, movie stars and celebrities are paid millions of dollars to appear in movies which are so full of garbage, I don’t even want my dogs to watch.

     Somebody just jerked my soap box out from under me, so I’ll get back to the subject.  Give me Freddie in the morning anytime.  At least you know that he’s going to get you, unlike the government that pats you on the head with one hand while they prepare to squash you like a bug with the other. 

     Try my theory!  Scare yourself silly in the morning, and the rest of the day will be a breeze!

     ACCORDING TO MY STAR SIGN, which is Aquarius,  my good luck is about to begin!  Great!  It’s about time! I usually don’t even bother to read the thing, but for some reason I did this week.  Maybe that was the start of my good luck.  I may even go somewhere to gamble.

     If you think I’m going overboard about this, you don’t know what kind of luck I usually have.  If there was a contest with 1,000 entries and I had 999 of them in my name, I would lose.  Once when I read my horoscope, it said I would meet a tall, dark, handsome man.  What it failed to tell me was that I would meet him when I rear-ended his car.  Another time, it said I would find some money.  I did, when I dropped the jar of change that we had been saving for three years.  I found money under the couch, under the refrigerator, and under the kitchen table.  I found money for two weeks!

     This reminds me of a story I heard.  A man asked God, “Please, can you help me?  I need to win the lottery.” The next day his best friend won the lottery.  The man asked God again, “Please can you help me? I really need to win that lottery.”  A week later, his cousin won the lottery.  The man asked God again,  “Please, please, just let me win, even a small one.”  Then suddenly the thunder rolled, lightening flashed, and God spoke to the man, “I’m trying, George, but it would help a lot if you would BUY A LOTTERY TICKET!”

    That’s the way most of us are, we want something, but we don’t want to put out any effort to get it.  Maybe luck has less to do with it than hard work and dedication. 

     So, I’ll just sit here and wait for my good luck to show up!  I don’t think it will be Publishers Clearing House because I have a mail box full of magazines, and they’ve never shown up yet with MY check.   I don’t think it will be from my stock purchases; although I wish now I had bought stock in McDonalds instead of General Motors. Just goes to prove that even if we can’t buy a car, we’ll still find a way to go get a Big Mac. 

     PEOPLE OFTEN ASK ME, “Aren’t you afraid to be alone so far out there in the country?”  And I always reply, “Not at all!  The only way you can find my house is by total accident, or with specific directions.”  If you have been given the directions, that generally means that I WANT you to visit, and if you show up because you are lost, you will have to take your chances with the dogs.

     At one time we had 5 dogs in the yard, but life has a way of adding and subtracting our number of pets, usually at the hand of some other human.  We only have two at this time, although a new member could be dumped out any day now.  Why do people assume that when they are finished with their pets, it’s OK to dump them out in the country?  We have gained some valuable animals that way, but some never make it as far as our door.

     My dogs are Duchess and Wolfie.  Both names are significant to the dog’s personalities.  Duchess acts very “royal”.  She is a picky eater, and will go out of her way to keep her feet out of a muddy spot.   Wolfie is a big boy that loves to goof around and will knock you down in his efforts to play, but don’t be fooled.  The one who acts like royalty is the one who would tear you to pieces if you threatened her masters, (she’s small and lethal!)

     Many a UPS or FedEX driver has learned to honk before exiting their vehicle (most don’t exit at all). She’s never actually hurt anyone (that lived to tell about it) but I wouldn’t take bets on whether she would or not.  Wolfie might hurt someone, but it would be from a concussion suffered when they hit the ground with a 60 lb dog on top.

     This is why my country comfort is seldom disturbed. There’s nothing as comforting as knowing that my two guard dogs will faithfully watch over me, night and day, with no expectation of any payment other than Old Roy dog food and all the scratching, petting and ball-throwing I can do.

     If they should fail in their duties, I have some inside pets too.   They are known as Ruger, Winchester, and Smith & Wesson.

     “IN EVERY WALK WITH NATURE man receives far more than he seeks” (John Muir)

     When we bought our chickens, we requested 5 hens, as our goal was to have fresh eggs right in our own backyard.  I proudly named them: Abby, Betty, Cindy, Darlene and Ellen.  As they grew, Abby, who was the bolder and more outgoing chicken in the group, suspiciously became much bigger than the other girls.  Yes, “Abby” became “Andy” and has ruled the roost ever since. 

     Though it was not our intent to have a rooster, he’s a beautiful Rhode Island Red, and takes good care of his little flock.  He struts his stuff, making sure the dogs and cats know that he’s the boss in the chicken pen.

     I don’t even mind that Andy learned to crow very loudly, but he seems to have no concept of the time of day (or night).  Roosters crow for various reasons, but Andy seems to have a bad case of insomnia and thinks that if he’s awake, we all should be awake.  I have opened the window on many occasions to yell “shut up, Andy”, but that only lets him know that he has succeeded in getting me up, and he cheerfully talks back to me.  I’ve reminded him that one o’clock in the morning is not appropriate for crowing, even if he does see the moon.  Yes, he takes credit for that too (just like a man).

     If he was not so gorgeous and the potential father of some beautiful chicks in the spring, he might be invited to dinner.  But I’ve already discussed my cooking talents (or lack of) and we know that chicken-n-dumplins will not be on the menu.

     I do think I could manage a chicken pot pie, however, so Andy may have to learn a little self restraint.

      GLOBAL POSITIONING SATELLITE, thats what it stands for, right?  Well, that’s one definition, but I’m going to give you a few more. 

     My huband and I wanted to be part of the “IN” crowd and bought ourselves a GPS, one of the most easy to use ones.  The first time we used it, we had to put in our home location.  Makes sense, how else would it know where to start from.  I put in our location (keep in mind that I live way, way out in the country).  The machine scanned, and scanned and scanned, then asked me to resubmit the information.  I did, and it scanned, and scanned and finally found us.  Now we were all set!  We were only going to take a short trip, just to learn how the thing worked.  Thankfully, we already knew where we were going, but the machine was having a little trouble with all our country roads, so we decided it was GIVING PITIFUL SERVICE.

     We wanted to give it another chance, so we ignored the voice telling us where to turn, until we were out on a major highway, taking a two day road trip.  We made it all the way to Memphis - where it was just our luck that there was a lot of road construction.  We followed her directions (I named her Gertie the GPS), until we came to a blockade that put us off the main road onto a detour. Gertie was not aware of the detour.  She took us around in circles, searching for that elusive left turn she kept demanding.  Finally we found our own way back to civilzation because the area was GETTING PRETTY SCARY.   But we forgave Gertie, because after all, she’s only a machine.

      On one other foray,  into the wilderness known as Arkansas, we depended on Gertie to take us to a camp ground hidden in a small town, where we were to meet my sister and brother-in-law for a week of camping.  Gertie got us to the town, but she could not locate the campground, sending us in circles until I pulled her plug because I could not stand to hear “Make a left turn at the next available exit” one more time!  I decided that the longer she talked, the more “snooty” her voice sounded, like she was tired of telling us idiots where to turn.  My brother-in-law had to come and find us and guide us back to the campground. 

      Now I do feel that the GPS is a fine tool for knowing which exit to take off the interstate highways (provided there is no construction going on), but my own personal definition of a GPS is:  GO PURCHASE STREETMAP!

      Technology and I do not agree;  the old fashioned way is the best for me.

     NO, THAT AIN’T A SOUTHERN GREETING!  I hope I’m not the only one who remembers the little guy from the 50’s.

      Howdy Doody was the little marionette that entertained both children and adults, usually right before a Western was showing on television.  There was a man there with him, but all the attention was on Howdy.  He didn’t get as much “promo” as such things do now; he may have had a lunch box with his picture on it, or a few story books, but not the mass media that Elmo and Big Bird inspired.

     What made me think of Howdy Doody?  You know, it’s sometimes scary that I can’t remember what I had for breakfast, but I can get a flash of something that happened 50 years ago.  Of course, if it were not for those flashes, I wouldn’t be able to write much on my blogs!

      Back to the subject, there is a man I see on CNN or one of those news shows, who looks exactly like Howdy Doody (except for the hair color and the lack of freckles).  I don’t know the man’s name, and if I did, I wouldn’t put it here because that would not be nice.  But, if you ever watch those news programs where they ask the opinions of some guy with a long title, usually involved in politics, you’ll know who I mean.  The man is in severe need of Botox around the mouth and cheeks. 

      I don’t mean to make fun of him, he actually speaks very intelligently, his mouth moves with every word, and he does not jerk around when his strings are pulled.  It’s just that every time I see him, I flash back to Howdy Doody Time.   I can even hear the theme song in my mind.  It’s one of those that gets stuck there and goes round and round - ooops, I probably gave it to you now. 

     Did you know you can still find collectibles of Howdy Doody?  You can “google” it, and find a few items in antique stores or from ebay, but you’ll have to sign over your next S.S. check to get it.

     I’ll leave you today with another phrase I read somewhere (no, I don’t remember where):  “Due to the energy crunch, the ‘ light at the end of the tunnel’  has been turned off.”

       AaaCHOO!  I was going to start out my blog today by saying that I think I have a new internet virus, but I was afraid that you would shut the blog down right away without reading.  It’s not THAT kind of virus!

      Since I have been writing this blog, it has become an obsession.  I find myself thinking about what I will write the next day before I finish writing the one for today.

      The problem with blogging for the what-in-the-world-does-that-mean crowd, like me, is some of the terminology.  I have been trying to act all “cool” or “hot” or whatever means “with-it” these days, but there are some things I just don’t understand. 

       Like, widgets.  I always thought they were the little plastic things that you used to scrape paint off of places where you had dropped it when you were painting something without covering the places where you didn’t want the paint - I guess that definition would be too long for Websters, wouldn’t it.  Well, according to the internet, a widget is some little thing you put on your blog page where other bloggers can come and “drop” their “cards”.   ?What?? 

      And there are “links”.  I think I’ve got that one figured out, as it is actually similar to a real link, like on a chain.  I can send links to other sites and blogs, so I can pass along the things that I like. Those are cool - or hot - or phat - or one of those things. (Most of the blogs are pretty good - but I think some have been written by a “missing” link.)

     Then there are “tags”.  There again, I can accept that this means marking something so others will know where it belongs.  After all, that’s what we old-timers used to identify our clothes, which were cool - or hot - or phat. (Ever notice that your prom dress is now vintage clothing?)

     The one I really don’t get is “spam”.  Why would you use the name of a perfectly good (although salty) canned food to indicate something that you want to get rid of?  The first time someone told me to “spam it”, I had visions of smearing the canned meat by-product all over my monitor.  I knew better than to put it on the keyboard - this time.  (Dog slobbers can short out your keyboard - did you know that?)

     No, I am not really that dumb, but there is a computer technician at a local Circuit City who thinks I am.  I had gone in once to ask a question, and requested that he give me the answer in a very detailed manner, step-by-step, so I could write it down.  He said: “Pick up the pieces of your computer, including the monitor and the keyboard;  place them in a large box, send it back to Dell, then do all of us a favor - and never buy another computer!

      I think I’m going to spam him, and take the dog along!