My dear sweet Texas cousin Brandy recently asked me if I was going to post new blog entry before I left for Kansas. I told her if I did it would be the most boring entry ever and it would read something like:
Packingpackingpackingsleep5mins.
Packingpackingpackingsleep5mins.
Packingpackingpackingsleep5mins.
Today I realized that I do need to post one more episode before I leave.
There is plenty of things I'm going to miss about Florida but mostly I'm going to miss my friends and family I'm leaving behind. To all that touched my life over past 39 years I owe a debt of gratitude.
Teachers, employers, ex girlfriends, fellow bar patrons, cashiers, police officers, random people on the street all have transformed me into who I am today. You may have brought out the best I have to offer. You may have seen me at my absolute worst.
Whether our interaction lasted seconds, like the person who cut me off in the parking lot. Who instead of flipping off and letting fly an exploitive filled discription of your lack of driving prowess, I decided it would a better lesson for my kids in the back seat and you for me to stick my head 2 feet out the window and blow you a 5 second razzberry.
Or if our relationship lasted years like my art teacher Mr. Kanarr who taught me one end of a pencil is as functionally important the other. He gave me same homework assignment every night for months. Draw 10 trees. The best grade he ever gave me was a C+. Until the day I cut out the sillouette of a tree in a large sheet of posterboard. Took that into the darkroom and contact printed it 10 times on a sheet of photo paper. That day he gave an A+ and never gave me that assignment again. He encouraged to spend more time "playing" in the darkroom. I made some really cool prints over the next few months. He then introduced me to screen printing. Later I would spend close to 20 years working in the printing industry.
Right now we are hitting the road to begin our new lives in Hutch. I'm not sure what I will do for a living when I get there. Maybe I'll resume my career in the printing field, maybe not. Regardless Mr. Kanarr gave me a skill I can always fall back on.
Hutchinson is a small town, hopefully if someone cuts me in traffic I will have the wear withal to blow him a razzberry and not take the low road. It would my luck our scheduals will mesh so closely that every day we will meet at that same intersection. I'd rather we blow razzberries and chuckle back and forth each day, instead of "mean mugging" one and other everyday for 10 years only to find out he is going to be my granddaughter's high school principal.
I'd be remissed if I didn't mention the people who touched my life the most over the past 4 decades.
Lee
You are my oldest and best friend. You have always been there for me. When I had nowhere to turn, I would turn and you'd be there. You put me up when I had nowhere to go. You've changed my life. You even found my wife for me and kept her safe until we figured out we were meant for each other. To Lisa you will always be her bucket. To me you will always be my super hero.
Charles
You were my first roommate, in fact you were there for my first lots of things. My first beer, my first smoke. We always had fun. From cruising in the Vega, to picking up chicks at 70 mph. on the highway on our way to the Steppenwolf concert. I'm most surprised we never got arrested together. From our "house wrecking" party to trying to incite a riot at said Steppenwolf concert. We should have been cell mates more times than I care to mention. When I moved to KS. when I was 16 you were the only one called to ask if I was coming back to FL.
Steve
We've worked together and watched our kids grow up together. Our friendship has been stressed over the past few months mainly due to time restraints. I really do miss meeting up on the road for our safety meetings. I just want you to know I will always consider you one of my best friends.
Tony
Growing up with you as my brother was one of the biggest influences on my life. My musical tastes stem from living in the same house as you. The diversity of the stuff you listened to made me realize there was more to music than just rock-n-roll. Even though a lot of the stuff I listen now at best makes you shake your head and at worst makes you cringe.
Not only are you my brother but for 5 years you were my business partner. I'm still sad that didn't work out. I miss needing to call you 20 times a week for work issues. It gave us a chance to catch up on everyday things as well. I hope you and Deb and Racheal will come up and see us sometime.
Sandi
My baby sister. I may just miss you most of all. I'll never forget the day I had to ask Dusty for the day off. When he asked "Why?" I looked him straight in the eye and said "I'm going to marry my sister."
I'm so happy you found Tommy. I've never seen you so happy.
I'm so proud of Alexis. The past couple of years she has really come into her own. You should be proud as well. You did a great job raising her. You guys should come see us too. I promise to not push you out of the back of a bus or stick a dart in your cheeck.
There are so many more. It would be impossible to list them all. Just know I will miss you all. But for now I need to get back to:
Packingpackingpackingsleep5mins.
Packingpackingpackingsleep5mins.
Packingpackingpackingsleep5mins.
I am Scott.
Saturday, March 31, 2012
Thursday, February 23, 2012
"He was talking before I knew it and as he grew He said I'm going to be like you Dad, You know I'm going to be like you. " - Harry Chapin
02/23/2012- Today would have been my Dad's 70th birthday. He passed away a little more than 2 years ago from Non Hodgkin's Lymphoma. It is a cancer that attacks the lymph nodes.
But this post is not intended to be about his death, this post is about his life. His life in his own words.
While cleaning out one of his many computers ( mainly looking for photos and his Barbecue sauce recipe ) I came across a file titled "My Story". I opened the document and it was a letter to one of his many online girlfriends.
Pops was always very open in his personal life and even more so in his love life. He didn't have many secrets, but the ones he had he kept well. This letter contained some of those secrets. I feel he kept these secrets because he thought they may tarnish some people's image of him and they would be hurt by them. I know he was not ashamed of them, as probably the biggest one of them, he shared with me 20 some odd years ago. He told me about it as I faced the biggest dilemma of my life. Not to solve my problem, rather to let me know that I was not alone.
In respect for my Dad's wishes, I have edited this letter, taking out the parts that are not common knowledge or may hurt the ones he cared for. I will however make the whole and complete letter available to a select few persons that I feel he would want to see it. They simply need to ask. If you ask and I turn you down please don't feel bad. Just know he loved you and wouldn't want hurt you or someone you love.
Without farther ado our guest writer from the beyond,
I promised you a short bio of myself so here goes:
I was born the son of a poor black sharecropper... Oops, that was Steve
Martin. I was born Feb. 23, 1942, World War II was in full swing, Benny Goodman
was still alive. Television had been invented, but there were no
broadcasts. I don't really remember any of this, I was young at the time. My family
lived on a farm South of Kansas City near a little town 5,000 people, called
Osawatomie. If you know anything about the Civil War, that was the home of
the abolitionist John Brown. "John Brown's body lies a molding in the grave."
Kansas is a small piece of hell that pushed itself up out of the bowels of
the Earth. In the summer, temps over 100 are not uncommon and during the
winter, minus 20 are a very occasional occurrence. 50 miles West of where I was
born, the landscape is flat and without distinguishing characteristics.
After the dust bowl, Steinbeck's Grapes of Wrath, they have planted a few trees
in the Western parts of the state. I started school too early, at barely
five, I started first grade. It was a one room school, they needed ten students
to start and I was the next eldest in the district. It was cool then, I was
a big boy, and besides, I had a crush on my teacher. She too was a
beautiful redhead. I still have a lump on my forehead because she hit me with a
baseball bat. We were playing baseball, she was batting and I was catching. I
was standing too close, probably trying to look up her skirt (giggles), and
she clobbered me.
In 1949, my father started working for the city, managing the waste
disposal plant. Through home study he received a civil engineering degree from KU.
When I was in fifth grade, the city made a rule that all their employees had
to live within the city limits. We moved to town. I had always played by
myself, that was a new experience. I started working when I was 12 years old,
I took a paper route. At that time I started paying my parents rent 25% of
what I made. Started saving my money bought a bike and took another route. By
the time I graduated high school I was delivering the KC Star for most of
the town. You can't do that today, child labor laws. You are not allowed to
teach your kids responsibility and values.
I was a good student until high school, but the redundancy of that training
was self defeating. I already knew that they wanted me to say that Columbus
discovered America. I also knew it wasn't true. I knew how to conjugate a
verb and diagram a sentence. In Junior English I wrote a paper saying that
Custer was not a hero, in fact he was an arrogant fool and received a D- only
because it was well written. The teacher disagreed with my views. I was so
glad that I didn't write that maybe Lief Ericson or even the Egyptians were
Chris Colombo's predecessors by centuries. All through High School, I never
took a book home. I graduated 56 in a class of 58 because of the validity of
my tests and classroom discussions. The last IQ test I took gave me a score
of 146, and said I store useless information. For instance, to write the
numeral 1 in Egyptian hieroglyphics, you draw a stick. Add another four 2 and
so on until 5 is drawn as a frog. The figure for one million is a man with
upstretched arms.
While in high school i rarely dated, I was too busy working to have time
for girls. After high school, I dated a girl that had pursued me for a long
time. At first I felt sorry for her, she was a very pretty girl but had a
large strawberry birthmark around her left eye. We discovered sex together. That
was a real mess, two virgins attempting copulation in the backseat of a '50
Ford. We broke up shortly after that, premarital sex was very much frowned
upon then, and the guilt trip was terrible. After our breakup, I had saved
some money and left to travel around. I would drive until I was nearly out of
money then work and save and travel some more. I have been to all the
states except Maine, to Canada and South as far as Honduras.
I returned to Kansas, I knew better by that time of course, but that is
where my family was then. I applied for nurses training at KU Med Center in
Kansas City and was accepted for the next year. During the time I was waiting,
I met my first wife and dropped those plans. At that time, nursing students
could be married only in a few schools. "Living in sin" was even worse. She
was having trouble with her tuition and we agreed that I would take care of
them, and that I would start college after she graduated. We were married a
year later.
I enrolled at Kansas State Teachers College with psychology and art as
majors. I was there 2 years. Money was tight in the middle of the second year
and I started working part time at a gasoline station. Within 6 months I was
offered the job as manager at another location about 150 miles away. I
compared the salary offered against that of a baccalaureate in psychology, it was
about twice in favor of the gas station. We needed money so I accepted. Bad
decision, that company went bankrupt two years later.
For most of this time, I had been very conservative politically, but when
Pres. Kennedy was shot, I started to change. The college exposed me to more
liberal views, until, by the time the Beatles invaded New York, I had made an
almost complete reversal. When the gasoline company went belly up, I
started a small sign painting company. I had been doing a few for a few friends,
pin striping cars, things like that. I did a large job for a furniture
company that had a large fleet, designing a new logo and applying it to all their
trucks. The president of the company liked what I did and asked if I could
do his newspaper ads. My reply was, "No, but I know someone who can." I was
hired. Shortly after that, another new client asked me if I could do his
radio ads. I gave him the same answer. The same happened with television until I
had a complete advertising agency. Because their was no modelng agency in
the whole state, and I needed models to perform in the ads, I had to start
one of those too. Soon we were placing musicians, actors, I even at one time
had 6 go go dancers working for me. At that time, they were dancers and only
stripped if they wanted to. I had a band called Ghengis Khan and the Horde
performing mostly in the Eastern part of the state and Western Missouri. The
leader was a skinny blonde kid who had often hinted that he was running from
the law. I learned later that he had stolen some amps and guitars to start
a band. He came to me one day and said that he was going to go back home,
meet some friends and start a new band. He wanted me to go along and manage
them. I told him I had my business, my family, I couldn't leave. He didn't go
home, it was still too hot because of the guitat and amp thing, so he went
to Louisiana. There he changed his name from Jim Mungrum to Jim Dandy. The
town he was originally headed to was Black Oak Arkansas. I just learned he is
trying to start a new tour with two of the original members.
All this happened in about 3 years, it grew too fast, and I was still pain
ting signs, because I liked doing it. The cost of the print room, sound
studios and TV stages was overhead I really couldn't afford. Vietnam was growing
in intensity, Patty Hearst was making news, Charlie Manson was stirring
things in the Southwest. A doctor told me I had inhaled too many paint fumes and
I should sell the business. I sold it to my employees and it is still
going, the only ad agency in Western Kansas. I didn't really start it, it just
happened. I took a job as a salesman, but was really an activist at heart.
I joined several groups, NORML, SDS, NAACP, etc. became involved in voter
registration, most of the hippy things. I'm still a hippy at heart, and think
that many of the things we fought for were right. My absolutely favorite
song is J. Lennon's, Imagine. The problem as I can see it is that we simply
can't get everyone to be reasonable. There will always be someone who wants to
be a Hitler, or a Ted Bundy or David Duke. This does not mean we were
wrong, we were correct, but ignorant of all the facts. There were even some that
incorporated Manson and the SLA into our ranks. There will always be
injustice, and there is no real answer. What is right for me might be wrong for
you. Tolerance is the key. Okay enough soap boxin'.
We moved to Florida in 1972 after Kaye was offered a job here. Here, I
worked both as a photographer and in circulation for the local newspaper. It was
at the newspaper that I met Viv. You already know that story, at least
closely enough. The story in ES was essentially factful. Shortly after that
night, Kaye and I were divorced. We had drifted apart, and were only in like
with each other. She is still a good friend. I am proud of the fact that with
the exception of Viv, I can go back to visit any of the women I have ever
been with.
After Viv and I had been married only a few months, and our department at
the newspaper had been eliminated, I learned that my mother had terminal
cancer. I moved her, her 2 kids and 1 of mine back to Kansas to care for her.
She died in August of 1982. During her last months, I changed her bed, bathed
her, all the thing a home care nurse would do. Believe me darlin', your job
is hard, but 100 times harder for a family member. But I would have made a
good nurse if my life had gone that way. Once Kaye was exposed to something
and had to take gama globulin. I was instructed in the procedure and did a
little home care there too. She still talks about how good I became and would
prefer me over most others when she needs a hypo. Sorry, I started rambling.
MY father died in February the next year. He had had angina for years, and
came by my house after work. Yes, the whole family likes to work, and he did
the day he died. He had retired from his job at the city, but within 2
months, he had a part time job as a clerk in a liquor store. When he arrived, he
did not come in, just sat in the car. When I noticed, I went out
immediately, asked him what was wrong. He told me that he had just had an attack of
angina and that he had taken his nitro and was feeling better. I tried to get
him to come in the house, we were going to his house later that night. I
went to visit him at every other day, prepared a meal for him, and made sure
there were left overs before I left. He argued that we should not change our
plans, and be at his house at the appointed time. When I arrived, he was dead.
We had bought a house, and had developed some ties there, so Viv and I
started a bridal business. We had several designers lined up and if nothing was
liked by the customer, I could design a custom dress and Viv did the sewing.
I also had a photo studio. Life was good. Then we learned our landlord was
selling the store front. There was no where in our small town to move we had
to close shop.
Viv cheated on me throughout our marriage. Toward the end
of the marriage, I told her she was sleeping with every man in town. Her
reply was, "It's a small town." fidelity is very important to me, and after
admitting to the affair in my first marriage, I learned my lesson. I did not
stray with her at all. After our divorce, I moved back to Florida, to be near
my children, and have been here since. That was 1989.
I dated a little since my return, but it was such a hassle and every woman
I met was filled with cupidity. I don't like the times we live in, greed and
disdain of things of true value have clouded our vision for the things that
really matter. Frankly, I am surprised that you have shown me none of those
foul qualities. I gave up, and have been celibate for more that 8 years.
And, I have enjoyed my solitude. Recently, I realized that there is an extreme
difference between alone and lonely, and that I have become the latter. I
searched the net, and started writing to a lady in Ukraine. She seemed to
have all the qualities I was looking for in a mate, but that is another
story.You have sixty years condensed into maybe twenty minutes tops of reading.
There is more, kids grand kids, hobbies, etc. but this should keep you busy for
a while. If you want more, ask and ye shall recieve.
I am Ron
But this post is not intended to be about his death, this post is about his life. His life in his own words.
While cleaning out one of his many computers ( mainly looking for photos and his Barbecue sauce recipe ) I came across a file titled "My Story". I opened the document and it was a letter to one of his many online girlfriends.
Pops was always very open in his personal life and even more so in his love life. He didn't have many secrets, but the ones he had he kept well. This letter contained some of those secrets. I feel he kept these secrets because he thought they may tarnish some people's image of him and they would be hurt by them. I know he was not ashamed of them, as probably the biggest one of them, he shared with me 20 some odd years ago. He told me about it as I faced the biggest dilemma of my life. Not to solve my problem, rather to let me know that I was not alone.
In respect for my Dad's wishes, I have edited this letter, taking out the parts that are not common knowledge or may hurt the ones he cared for. I will however make the whole and complete letter available to a select few persons that I feel he would want to see it. They simply need to ask. If you ask and I turn you down please don't feel bad. Just know he loved you and wouldn't want hurt you or someone you love.
Without farther ado our guest writer from the beyond,
Ron Wright
My Story
I promised you a short bio of myself so here goes:
I was born the son of a poor black sharecropper... Oops, that was Steve
Martin. I was born Feb. 23, 1942, World War II was in full swing, Benny Goodman
was still alive. Television had been invented, but there were no
broadcasts. I don't really remember any of this, I was young at the time. My family
lived on a farm South of Kansas City near a little town 5,000 people, called
Osawatomie. If you know anything about the Civil War, that was the home of
the abolitionist John Brown. "John Brown's body lies a molding in the grave."
Kansas is a small piece of hell that pushed itself up out of the bowels of
the Earth. In the summer, temps over 100 are not uncommon and during the
winter, minus 20 are a very occasional occurrence. 50 miles West of where I was
born, the landscape is flat and without distinguishing characteristics.
After the dust bowl, Steinbeck's Grapes of Wrath, they have planted a few trees
in the Western parts of the state. I started school too early, at barely
five, I started first grade. It was a one room school, they needed ten students
to start and I was the next eldest in the district. It was cool then, I was
a big boy, and besides, I had a crush on my teacher. She too was a
beautiful redhead. I still have a lump on my forehead because she hit me with a
baseball bat. We were playing baseball, she was batting and I was catching. I
was standing too close, probably trying to look up her skirt (giggles), and
she clobbered me.
In 1949, my father started working for the city, managing the waste
disposal plant. Through home study he received a civil engineering degree from KU.
When I was in fifth grade, the city made a rule that all their employees had
to live within the city limits. We moved to town. I had always played by
myself, that was a new experience. I started working when I was 12 years old,
I took a paper route. At that time I started paying my parents rent 25% of
what I made. Started saving my money bought a bike and took another route. By
the time I graduated high school I was delivering the KC Star for most of
the town. You can't do that today, child labor laws. You are not allowed to
teach your kids responsibility and values.
I was a good student until high school, but the redundancy of that training
was self defeating. I already knew that they wanted me to say that Columbus
discovered America. I also knew it wasn't true. I knew how to conjugate a
verb and diagram a sentence. In Junior English I wrote a paper saying that
Custer was not a hero, in fact he was an arrogant fool and received a D- only
because it was well written. The teacher disagreed with my views. I was so
glad that I didn't write that maybe Lief Ericson or even the Egyptians were
Chris Colombo's predecessors by centuries. All through High School, I never
took a book home. I graduated 56 in a class of 58 because of the validity of
my tests and classroom discussions. The last IQ test I took gave me a score
of 146, and said I store useless information. For instance, to write the
numeral 1 in Egyptian hieroglyphics, you draw a stick. Add another four 2 and
so on until 5 is drawn as a frog. The figure for one million is a man with
upstretched arms.
While in high school i rarely dated, I was too busy working to have time
for girls. After high school, I dated a girl that had pursued me for a long
time. At first I felt sorry for her, she was a very pretty girl but had a
large strawberry birthmark around her left eye. We discovered sex together. That
was a real mess, two virgins attempting copulation in the backseat of a '50
Ford. We broke up shortly after that, premarital sex was very much frowned
upon then, and the guilt trip was terrible. After our breakup, I had saved
some money and left to travel around. I would drive until I was nearly out of
money then work and save and travel some more. I have been to all the
states except Maine, to Canada and South as far as Honduras.
I returned to Kansas, I knew better by that time of course, but that is
where my family was then. I applied for nurses training at KU Med Center in
Kansas City and was accepted for the next year. During the time I was waiting,
I met my first wife and dropped those plans. At that time, nursing students
could be married only in a few schools. "Living in sin" was even worse. She
was having trouble with her tuition and we agreed that I would take care of
them, and that I would start college after she graduated. We were married a
year later.
I enrolled at Kansas State Teachers College with psychology and art as
majors. I was there 2 years. Money was tight in the middle of the second year
and I started working part time at a gasoline station. Within 6 months I was
offered the job as manager at another location about 150 miles away. I
compared the salary offered against that of a baccalaureate in psychology, it was
about twice in favor of the gas station. We needed money so I accepted. Bad
decision, that company went bankrupt two years later.
For most of this time, I had been very conservative politically, but when
Pres. Kennedy was shot, I started to change. The college exposed me to more
liberal views, until, by the time the Beatles invaded New York, I had made an
almost complete reversal. When the gasoline company went belly up, I
started a small sign painting company. I had been doing a few for a few friends,
pin striping cars, things like that. I did a large job for a furniture
company that had a large fleet, designing a new logo and applying it to all their
trucks. The president of the company liked what I did and asked if I could
do his newspaper ads. My reply was, "No, but I know someone who can." I was
hired. Shortly after that, another new client asked me if I could do his
radio ads. I gave him the same answer. The same happened with television until I
had a complete advertising agency. Because their was no modelng agency in
the whole state, and I needed models to perform in the ads, I had to start
one of those too. Soon we were placing musicians, actors, I even at one time
had 6 go go dancers working for me. At that time, they were dancers and only
stripped if they wanted to. I had a band called Ghengis Khan and the Horde
performing mostly in the Eastern part of the state and Western Missouri. The
leader was a skinny blonde kid who had often hinted that he was running from
the law. I learned later that he had stolen some amps and guitars to start
a band. He came to me one day and said that he was going to go back home,
meet some friends and start a new band. He wanted me to go along and manage
them. I told him I had my business, my family, I couldn't leave. He didn't go
home, it was still too hot because of the guitat and amp thing, so he went
to Louisiana. There he changed his name from Jim Mungrum to Jim Dandy. The
town he was originally headed to was Black Oak Arkansas. I just learned he is
trying to start a new tour with two of the original members.
All this happened in about 3 years, it grew too fast, and I was still pain
ting signs, because I liked doing it. The cost of the print room, sound
studios and TV stages was overhead I really couldn't afford. Vietnam was growing
in intensity, Patty Hearst was making news, Charlie Manson was stirring
things in the Southwest. A doctor told me I had inhaled too many paint fumes and
I should sell the business. I sold it to my employees and it is still
going, the only ad agency in Western Kansas. I didn't really start it, it just
happened. I took a job as a salesman, but was really an activist at heart.
I joined several groups, NORML, SDS, NAACP, etc. became involved in voter
registration, most of the hippy things. I'm still a hippy at heart, and think
that many of the things we fought for were right. My absolutely favorite
song is J. Lennon's, Imagine. The problem as I can see it is that we simply
can't get everyone to be reasonable. There will always be someone who wants to
be a Hitler, or a Ted Bundy or David Duke. This does not mean we were
wrong, we were correct, but ignorant of all the facts. There were even some that
incorporated Manson and the SLA into our ranks. There will always be
injustice, and there is no real answer. What is right for me might be wrong for
you. Tolerance is the key. Okay enough soap boxin'.
We moved to Florida in 1972 after Kaye was offered a job here. Here, I
worked both as a photographer and in circulation for the local newspaper. It was
at the newspaper that I met Viv. You already know that story, at least
closely enough. The story in ES was essentially factful. Shortly after that
night, Kaye and I were divorced. We had drifted apart, and were only in like
with each other. She is still a good friend. I am proud of the fact that with
the exception of Viv, I can go back to visit any of the women I have ever
been with.
After Viv and I had been married only a few months, and our department at
the newspaper had been eliminated, I learned that my mother had terminal
cancer. I moved her, her 2 kids and 1 of mine back to Kansas to care for her.
She died in August of 1982. During her last months, I changed her bed, bathed
her, all the thing a home care nurse would do. Believe me darlin', your job
is hard, but 100 times harder for a family member. But I would have made a
good nurse if my life had gone that way. Once Kaye was exposed to something
and had to take gama globulin. I was instructed in the procedure and did a
little home care there too. She still talks about how good I became and would
prefer me over most others when she needs a hypo. Sorry, I started rambling.
MY father died in February the next year. He had had angina for years, and
came by my house after work. Yes, the whole family likes to work, and he did
the day he died. He had retired from his job at the city, but within 2
months, he had a part time job as a clerk in a liquor store. When he arrived, he
did not come in, just sat in the car. When I noticed, I went out
immediately, asked him what was wrong. He told me that he had just had an attack of
angina and that he had taken his nitro and was feeling better. I tried to get
him to come in the house, we were going to his house later that night. I
went to visit him at every other day, prepared a meal for him, and made sure
there were left overs before I left. He argued that we should not change our
plans, and be at his house at the appointed time. When I arrived, he was dead.
We had bought a house, and had developed some ties there, so Viv and I
started a bridal business. We had several designers lined up and if nothing was
liked by the customer, I could design a custom dress and Viv did the sewing.
I also had a photo studio. Life was good. Then we learned our landlord was
selling the store front. There was no where in our small town to move we had
to close shop.
Viv cheated on me throughout our marriage. Toward the end
of the marriage, I told her she was sleeping with every man in town. Her
reply was, "It's a small town." fidelity is very important to me, and after
admitting to the affair in my first marriage, I learned my lesson. I did not
stray with her at all. After our divorce, I moved back to Florida, to be near
my children, and have been here since. That was 1989.
I dated a little since my return, but it was such a hassle and every woman
I met was filled with cupidity. I don't like the times we live in, greed and
disdain of things of true value have clouded our vision for the things that
really matter. Frankly, I am surprised that you have shown me none of those
foul qualities. I gave up, and have been celibate for more that 8 years.
And, I have enjoyed my solitude. Recently, I realized that there is an extreme
difference between alone and lonely, and that I have become the latter. I
searched the net, and started writing to a lady in Ukraine. She seemed to
have all the qualities I was looking for in a mate, but that is another
story.You have sixty years condensed into maybe twenty minutes tops of reading.
There is more, kids grand kids, hobbies, etc. but this should keep you busy for
a while. If you want more, ask and ye shall recieve.
I am Ron
 |
| Dad, Robert, Alexis, Danielle. |
I've been told that I look like my namesake Grandpa Scott. I have also been told I that I look like my Uncle Mike. I can see the resemblance in both and regard those comparisons as the highest of complements. But when I look in the mirror I see my Dad's face. I credit him for the person I am today, both by example and genetically and I thank him for that.
By most accounts he was a fairly ordinary man. But to me he was a great dad.
About all I can say is Happy Birthday Pops. Miss you.
I am Scott
Monday, January 9, 2012
No time for being miserable, walkin' 'round all pitiful and sad, Life ain't all that bad. - Her and Kings County
Recently I did a Google search on Hutchinson KS. just to check it out. You know, just to find out what there is to do, where to pay the water bill, that sort of thing. I found several cool things.
The city of Hutch's website was pretty helpful. They have several pages encompassing, general info about the town. They have a page on local business, civil activities and events, and a page on the arts.
Several links down on the Google search page I saw a link that caught my eye. The headline read something along the lines of "Hutchinson KS. The 10th most boring town in America". Well I want to know the good with the bad so I clicked on the link.
The article was a blog on a travel site about the 15 most boring towns in America. I don't recall the other towns on the list, but most of them were small towns in the Mid West mainly in Kansas and Oklahoma. The author of piece obliviously had a bias against these sort of towns.
The articles were based on a photo of something inherently boring ( an apartment under renovation, an empty parking lot, empty chairs outside the back door of a business in the alley ) accompanied with a snarky captions like "Nothing to see here." or "This apartment has no one living here." of course no one lives here the apartment is being renovated. If you follow this guys train of thought, I could take pictures of Disney World's back allies and dumpsters and convince you there's nothing fun to do there either.
More amazing to me was the thread of comments left on this post. The post originally went up in 2006. And the comments were still coming in as recently as last month. Nearly 6 years later. Most of them at first were in agreement with the writer. Albeit I'm assuming from the infantile screen names and the complete disregard of spelling and grammar ( which I like to call "Internet Ebonics") , these posters were mainly teenagers to 20 somethings.
Some obliviously more seasoned posters were there also. They made some more valid points. All in all the comments that weren't a hate filled diatribe of expletives, hit the same beats.
It seems to be the consensus that Hutch has a meth problem. I didn't see any evidence of that while I was there, but never the less, I don't see that being an issue for me or my family. I once saw that stuff being made. Muraitic acid, starting fluid, benzedrine inhalers, menthol cigarette filters were just some of the ingredients that went into this concoction. You may as well grind up a hardware store and snort it. No thank you.
Another reoccurring theme was a lackadaisical attitude on behalf of the police and local government. No one sited anything in particular, just that they were lazy and never did anything. If that's the case, then the meth problem can't be that bad.
The third most common complaint was the residents were lazy. That they would rather lay around and collect unemployment or disability than go look for a job. Everyone I know there is either gainfully employed or in school. Even still, if it is true that's just less people to fight over the job I'm applying for.
One frequent poster challenged people to list 10 things uniquely cool about Hutch. Surprisingly to me most had problems doing so.
I decided to try my hand at it. Now keep in mind I've only spent about 3 months in Hutch in my entire life and almost all of that was 29 years ago. So here goes nothing.
1. The Cosmosphere
If you don't know about it or have never been there I highly recommend checking it out. It's an aerospace museum with lots of cool stuff on loan from NASA and The Smithsonian as well as artifacts of their own. They have real space traveled flight suits, return capsules, and a back up lunar rove. Heck they even have Sputnik 2,the back up for Sputnik 1 in case it blew up on the launch pad. I spent a lot of time there back in '82/'83. I had a friend who worked there who would sneak me in to hang out until he got off. Back then they had 1 of 5 true IMAX screens in the country. Amazingly cool.
On my trip back home in July of last year, my awesome Aunt Peggy scored Lisa and I some tickets for The Cosmosphere. They've added even more cool stuff including a SR71 Blackbird ( the worlds fastest spy plane ) hanging from the ceiling in the lobby. Or how about the entryway to the gift shop made from the heat tiles of a space shuttle? And did I mention the 2 full sized rockets they have outside?
2. The salt mine museum.
I've never been there but it sounds really cool. The atmosphere is so cool and dry they use it as a film vault. They even have the master copy of "Gone With The Wind" and others down there.
3. Skaets
Nothing super special about this place. Just good food at decent prices. The cool thing about it is that it's been there forever. If I'm not mistaken my Aunt Peggy went there on her first date. And remember steaks spelled backwards is Skaets!
4. Bogey's
If I counted right, their online menu lists 140 different flavors of shakes. One of their recent online specials was a family dinner,8 cheeseburgers, a pound of curly fries, 4 medium soft drinks, and a half gallon of ice cream for $20. That would feed my family of 7 for $20?!? Unheard of.
5. Danny Boys
6. Location
Hutchinson is within a couple hundred miles of the geographic center of the lower 48 states. Which opens up the opportunities for travel. We could vacation in L.A. , N.Y.C. Seattle or even back here to Sarasota and travel about the same distance. Chicago, Houston, or Las Vegas would be even closer.
7. 3rd Thursdays
A monthly street party with live bands and dinner and drink specials all up and down Main St. We have something similar here in Sarasota called 1st Fridays or The Gallery Stroll. All the art galleries stay open late. Although most don't have live music and the event is often ruined by being over run by Sarasota's snooty elitist class.
8. Emancipation Days
A yearly local celebration featuring a parade and street festival. I recently took my Granddaughter Kaylynn to our local Christmas parade and we had the time of our lives. I'm looking forward to taking her to the Emancipation Day parade.
9. The State Fair
Come on, it's the state fair. I can sum it up in two words. "Corn Dogs". 'Nuff said.
10. The Fox Theater
The Fox Theater is a historic venue that plays first run movies and classic films. It also features live concerts. It brings a touch of culture to this small town.
I am looking forward seeing Arlo Guthrie there in April. It will most likely be Lisa and I's first date night when we get there.
BONUS POINT # 11
11. Zombie Apocalypse/Red Dawn Scenario.
Small towns are more favorable places to be in a zombie outbreak. The virus will take longer to reach there and spread more slowly once it is there.
Plus Hutch is probably fairly low on the list of targets for nuclear strikes.
In either case I'm heading for the hills of Montana (see # 6).
WOLVERINES!!!
The city of Hutch's website was pretty helpful. They have several pages encompassing, general info about the town. They have a page on local business, civil activities and events, and a page on the arts.
Several links down on the Google search page I saw a link that caught my eye. The headline read something along the lines of "Hutchinson KS. The 10th most boring town in America". Well I want to know the good with the bad so I clicked on the link.
The article was a blog on a travel site about the 15 most boring towns in America. I don't recall the other towns on the list, but most of them were small towns in the Mid West mainly in Kansas and Oklahoma. The author of piece obliviously had a bias against these sort of towns.
The articles were based on a photo of something inherently boring ( an apartment under renovation, an empty parking lot, empty chairs outside the back door of a business in the alley ) accompanied with a snarky captions like "Nothing to see here." or "This apartment has no one living here." of course no one lives here the apartment is being renovated. If you follow this guys train of thought, I could take pictures of Disney World's back allies and dumpsters and convince you there's nothing fun to do there either.
More amazing to me was the thread of comments left on this post. The post originally went up in 2006. And the comments were still coming in as recently as last month. Nearly 6 years later. Most of them at first were in agreement with the writer. Albeit I'm assuming from the infantile screen names and the complete disregard of spelling and grammar ( which I like to call "Internet Ebonics") , these posters were mainly teenagers to 20 somethings.
Some obliviously more seasoned posters were there also. They made some more valid points. All in all the comments that weren't a hate filled diatribe of expletives, hit the same beats.
It seems to be the consensus that Hutch has a meth problem. I didn't see any evidence of that while I was there, but never the less, I don't see that being an issue for me or my family. I once saw that stuff being made. Muraitic acid, starting fluid, benzedrine inhalers, menthol cigarette filters were just some of the ingredients that went into this concoction. You may as well grind up a hardware store and snort it. No thank you.
Another reoccurring theme was a lackadaisical attitude on behalf of the police and local government. No one sited anything in particular, just that they were lazy and never did anything. If that's the case, then the meth problem can't be that bad.
The third most common complaint was the residents were lazy. That they would rather lay around and collect unemployment or disability than go look for a job. Everyone I know there is either gainfully employed or in school. Even still, if it is true that's just less people to fight over the job I'm applying for.
One frequent poster challenged people to list 10 things uniquely cool about Hutch. Surprisingly to me most had problems doing so.
I decided to try my hand at it. Now keep in mind I've only spent about 3 months in Hutch in my entire life and almost all of that was 29 years ago. So here goes nothing.
1. The Cosmosphere
If you don't know about it or have never been there I highly recommend checking it out. It's an aerospace museum with lots of cool stuff on loan from NASA and The Smithsonian as well as artifacts of their own. They have real space traveled flight suits, return capsules, and a back up lunar rove. Heck they even have Sputnik 2,the back up for Sputnik 1 in case it blew up on the launch pad. I spent a lot of time there back in '82/'83. I had a friend who worked there who would sneak me in to hang out until he got off. Back then they had 1 of 5 true IMAX screens in the country. Amazingly cool.
On my trip back home in July of last year, my awesome Aunt Peggy scored Lisa and I some tickets for The Cosmosphere. They've added even more cool stuff including a SR71 Blackbird ( the worlds fastest spy plane ) hanging from the ceiling in the lobby. Or how about the entryway to the gift shop made from the heat tiles of a space shuttle? And did I mention the 2 full sized rockets they have outside?
2. The salt mine museum.
I've never been there but it sounds really cool. The atmosphere is so cool and dry they use it as a film vault. They even have the master copy of "Gone With The Wind" and others down there.
3. Skaets
Nothing super special about this place. Just good food at decent prices. The cool thing about it is that it's been there forever. If I'm not mistaken my Aunt Peggy went there on her first date. And remember steaks spelled backwards is Skaets!
4. Bogey's
If I counted right, their online menu lists 140 different flavors of shakes. One of their recent online specials was a family dinner,8 cheeseburgers, a pound of curly fries, 4 medium soft drinks, and a half gallon of ice cream for $20. That would feed my family of 7 for $20?!? Unheard of.
5. Danny Boys
6. Location
Hutchinson is within a couple hundred miles of the geographic center of the lower 48 states. Which opens up the opportunities for travel. We could vacation in L.A. , N.Y.C. Seattle or even back here to Sarasota and travel about the same distance. Chicago, Houston, or Las Vegas would be even closer.
7. 3rd Thursdays
A monthly street party with live bands and dinner and drink specials all up and down Main St. We have something similar here in Sarasota called 1st Fridays or The Gallery Stroll. All the art galleries stay open late. Although most don't have live music and the event is often ruined by being over run by Sarasota's snooty elitist class.
8. Emancipation Days
A yearly local celebration featuring a parade and street festival. I recently took my Granddaughter Kaylynn to our local Christmas parade and we had the time of our lives. I'm looking forward to taking her to the Emancipation Day parade.
 |
| Grandpa and GoGo at the Xmas parade. |
9. The State Fair
Come on, it's the state fair. I can sum it up in two words. "Corn Dogs". 'Nuff said.
10. The Fox Theater
The Fox Theater is a historic venue that plays first run movies and classic films. It also features live concerts. It brings a touch of culture to this small town.
I am looking forward seeing Arlo Guthrie there in April. It will most likely be Lisa and I's first date night when we get there.
BONUS POINT # 11
11. Zombie Apocalypse/Red Dawn Scenario.
Small towns are more favorable places to be in a zombie outbreak. The virus will take longer to reach there and spread more slowly once it is there.
Plus Hutch is probably fairly low on the list of targets for nuclear strikes.
In either case I'm heading for the hills of Montana (see # 6).
WOLVERINES!!!
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Every day when I get home from work , I feel so frustrated, the boss is a jerk. And I get my sticks and I go to the shed. And I pound on that drum like it was the boss's head. Todd Rundgren.
I'm starting this post at 11:30 Thanksgiving night. My boss in his infinite wisdom decided that going to work is more important than spending time with family.
In case you didn't know, currently I work as parking lot sweeper. I clean shopping centers, Walmarts that sort of thing. It can be a miserable job, I'm the guy that cleans up after the garbage man. To be a street sweeper I would have to get a promotion. But it's a necessary job and I take pride in my work ethic. But not tonight. Tonight it's not at all necessary, not on "Black Friday".
My job depends on the lot being free of cars so I can get to where the trash is. Tonight there are 4 "Black Friday" sales going on at out of 6 stops starting at midnight. So there's not much I can do. But if I have sacrifice my holiday with my family, I'm gonna get paid for full night. So I'm sitting in a Target parking lot writing this post.
The best part of this job is quiting time, which just happens to coincide with the time my granddaughter wakes up. As I walk though the door I'm greeted by GoGo yelling "PopPop" at the top of her lungs. She then breaks into a 23 months old's sprint across the living room to crash into me with a "super hug". With her arms wrapped my leg she looks up at me and says "Ofv Yew!!!".
I look down and say" I love you too GoGo."
She lets me go and I scratch the dogs ears as I tell her "PopPop has gotta go take his shoes off."
She says to me "Shooz?"
"Yep, I'll be right back. "
As soon as I'm clad in flip flops she meets me at the fridge and helps me make a bologna and cheese sandwich.
"Loney?" she'll ask me.
"Yep, bologna and cheese." I tell her.
"Cheeze!" she says with authority.
I hand her the cheese wrapper and she says "Trash." and throws it away as I close the bread and put the rest of the in stuff away.
I sit in front of the TV and watch the news and eating my sandwich, she hangs on the arm of the chair.
"Bite bite?" she says.
"What do you say?" I'll ask.
"Peas!" she replies and I rip her off a piece and hand it to her.
She stuffs it into her mouth as she says "Tank yew" and returns to dancing to the music in the commercials.
This happens 3 or 4 times per sandwich. When we get close to the last bite she will remind me "Woofwoof? Rounie, Chupie?"
"Yes we'll save a bite for Brownie and Chupie a bite. They're good dogs."
Then we go out back so I can have a cigarette, "Will you help Grandpa?". She grabs my index finger and leads me to the back door. As I open the door she turns around and calls out "Rounie! Chupie!" and the dogs join us.
The dogs head out the doggie door and I sit at the table. GoGo pats me on the knee and declares "Sit sitting."
I ask her "What do you say?".
Exasperated she'll say "Peeeese.".
I hoist her up in my lap and she knows which pocket to pick and she taps it and says "paPod."
I reach into that pocket and produce my iPod.
I set it on the table in front of us and she hits the power button and works the slide button on the touch screen that unlocks the devise from the home page. Then she flips though the pages of apps and randomly launches what ever she happens to hit. Sometimes it's something she can play with and I let her go. But when it not something she can play with I say "Wait!", she replies "Waiting". I look at what she has opened and tell her "No, you're not buying a $45 audio book. Stay out of the app store."
After awhile of this she ends up asking me for what she wants specifically. Typically she wants to go though her favorite photo album. She'll say "Babies.". That means the album titled Family photos.
I find it for her and open it and she'll swipe from photo to photo naming the persons in each picture. (Even some of her toys.)
What's more, to make it interesting, I'll ask to find a particular photo. She'll say "Finding!" as she swipes though the album till she finds the picture in question. I'll ask "GoGo, who is that?"
"Dik!" she replies triumphantly.
"Who else?" I'll prod.
"AmMah." she says condescendingly like I should recognize my own mother. Knowing who her Great Grandmother is in a photograph doesn't surprise me that much. She sees her every day and really loves her. They go shopping together and split a tub of yogurt for lunch daily. But her Great Great Uncle Dick she has never met and had only seen one other 15 year old picture of. The picture on the iPod is from our family reunion last July. I never told her who was in the photo, but she knew him the first time she saw it.
She is really quite the little smarty pants and she is one of the main reasons I am moving back home. I know she will really benefit from a smaller class size that she'll never have in the Florida school system.
I thoroughly enjoy this my last hour of my day. Kaylynn's company soothes me and gives me a warm fuzzy feeling that helps me get rest I need to make it another night at my crappy job.
As I head to bed I get another super hug and she looks up at me and says "Ofv yew PopPop, nie nie."
I say " PopPop loves you too. Try to keep the cuteness down to a minimum." She seldom does.
 |
| Kaylynn snapped this picture while playing with my phone. |
Monday, October 3, 2011
1000 Reasons to Stay
This week has been a mixed bag of feelings. The concept of moving is becoming more and more concrete every day. Yet the reasons to stay become more continuous.
This weekend Lisa and I went out to catch Tommy's karaoke show. It was pure torture. I guess that's what karaoke all about though. It was 80% off key country music with a few shining exceptions of really stand out singers with really good voices.
Regardless I had a great time with Sandi and Tommy. I really love those two and don't get to see them enough.
Along with all my other friends and nodding acquaintances from the karaoke show, and Facebook, and 39 years of passing them in traffic. I'm not what you would call a social butterfly, but I do enjoy my short conversations with them.
This got me thinking of all people that I will miss when I leave. Folks I have worked with. A few of the kids I went to school with. My friends from the hippy/artist circles I used to run in.
But most of all my core family. I will miss my niece Rachel growing up. The little milestones, the macaroni art, and the "trace your hand" turkeys. I'm sure I'll have plenty of that sort stuff from GoGo, but I will miss it from Rachel.
Also my niece Alexis. I've already watched her grow into a fine young woman and I couldn't be prouder. She has herself a nice boyfriend and the two of them seem to be building a good life together.
Then the second part of my weekend happened. I'm going to refrain from using any names. As to not be tellin' tales out school( if can figure out who this is from context clues, you more than likely already know the story).
A friend of mine, whom I love like my own daughter was caught in a domestic violence situation. Her boyfriend's father (with whom they were living along with their infant daughter) came home drunk and began beating his son.
I received a frantic message pleading for help and I was out the door. They live nearby and I was there in a flash.
As I arrived the father was being hauled out to a cop car in handcuffs by two sheriffs and his son was in the back if an ambulance. He was never so lucky to be police custody. Had I been a few minutes earlier he would have been in the back of the ambulance and I would of been going to jail.
His son had minor injuries. He was treated and released. My "daughter" and "grandbaby" were not injured in the attack although it was traumatic for both of them.
After I made sure the kids were alright and taken care of, I stood outside the cop car, with windows rolled up, the cowardly excuse for a father cuffed in the back. I spoke sternly but quietly and told him "Remember this face." I took my hat off so he could get a good look at me. "These kids are under my protection. If you ever see this face again it may well be the last thing you ever see." as I put my two fists together and made a snapping motion like I was breaking a stick. I believe he understood the message I was conveying. For the time being these three kids are staying with me.
One of favorite pictures of my Uncle Mike is of him standing in front of his three baby sisters. Hulked up with am expression on his face like "If you mess with them, you gotta go through me." That's how I was raised. Real men protect their family.
If there's one thing I can't abide is a bully. I was bullied most of my life in school because I couldn't afford the popular jeans, or didn't live in the snooty neighborhood. It bothered me until I realized I was bigger than most of my bullies and started to stand up to them. After that I gained an air of confidence that said "Don't mess with me" and the bullying soon stopped.
But I could never imagine being bullied by my own father. Don't get me wrong, Dad whooped my ass when it was called for. And to this day I know you don't play the bongos with the sharp end of a pencil. But I was never abused. A father is supposed to protect his family and I can't imagine it the other way around.
If you find yourself in a domestic violence situation as quickly and safely as possible, get out. Someone will help you. If not a friend or family member, seek out an abuse hot line or a member of the clergy. There are resources out and you deserve better than that. Don't cover up for them or tell yourself it will get better. It won't.
If you are an abuser, you should seek out the same resources. Just because that's how you were raised doesn't mean you can't break the cycle.
If not, before you pick on someone smaller than you, try picking on someone my size.
These people and hundreds of other are among the reasons I will find it hard to leave this place. Yet I know that heading home is in the best interest of me and my family.
This weekend Lisa and I went out to catch Tommy's karaoke show. It was pure torture. I guess that's what karaoke all about though. It was 80% off key country music with a few shining exceptions of really stand out singers with really good voices.
Regardless I had a great time with Sandi and Tommy. I really love those two and don't get to see them enough.
Along with all my other friends and nodding acquaintances from the karaoke show, and Facebook, and 39 years of passing them in traffic. I'm not what you would call a social butterfly, but I do enjoy my short conversations with them.
This got me thinking of all people that I will miss when I leave. Folks I have worked with. A few of the kids I went to school with. My friends from the hippy/artist circles I used to run in.
But most of all my core family. I will miss my niece Rachel growing up. The little milestones, the macaroni art, and the "trace your hand" turkeys. I'm sure I'll have plenty of that sort stuff from GoGo, but I will miss it from Rachel.
Also my niece Alexis. I've already watched her grow into a fine young woman and I couldn't be prouder. She has herself a nice boyfriend and the two of them seem to be building a good life together.
Then the second part of my weekend happened. I'm going to refrain from using any names. As to not be tellin' tales out school( if can figure out who this is from context clues, you more than likely already know the story).
A friend of mine, whom I love like my own daughter was caught in a domestic violence situation. Her boyfriend's father (with whom they were living along with their infant daughter) came home drunk and began beating his son.
I received a frantic message pleading for help and I was out the door. They live nearby and I was there in a flash.
As I arrived the father was being hauled out to a cop car in handcuffs by two sheriffs and his son was in the back if an ambulance. He was never so lucky to be police custody. Had I been a few minutes earlier he would have been in the back of the ambulance and I would of been going to jail.
His son had minor injuries. He was treated and released. My "daughter" and "grandbaby" were not injured in the attack although it was traumatic for both of them.
After I made sure the kids were alright and taken care of, I stood outside the cop car, with windows rolled up, the cowardly excuse for a father cuffed in the back. I spoke sternly but quietly and told him "Remember this face." I took my hat off so he could get a good look at me. "These kids are under my protection. If you ever see this face again it may well be the last thing you ever see." as I put my two fists together and made a snapping motion like I was breaking a stick. I believe he understood the message I was conveying. For the time being these three kids are staying with me.
One of favorite pictures of my Uncle Mike is of him standing in front of his three baby sisters. Hulked up with am expression on his face like "If you mess with them, you gotta go through me." That's how I was raised. Real men protect their family.
 |
| One of my favorite role models. |
If there's one thing I can't abide is a bully. I was bullied most of my life in school because I couldn't afford the popular jeans, or didn't live in the snooty neighborhood. It bothered me until I realized I was bigger than most of my bullies and started to stand up to them. After that I gained an air of confidence that said "Don't mess with me" and the bullying soon stopped.
But I could never imagine being bullied by my own father. Don't get me wrong, Dad whooped my ass when it was called for. And to this day I know you don't play the bongos with the sharp end of a pencil. But I was never abused. A father is supposed to protect his family and I can't imagine it the other way around.
If you find yourself in a domestic violence situation as quickly and safely as possible, get out. Someone will help you. If not a friend or family member, seek out an abuse hot line or a member of the clergy. There are resources out and you deserve better than that. Don't cover up for them or tell yourself it will get better. It won't.
If you are an abuser, you should seek out the same resources. Just because that's how you were raised doesn't mean you can't break the cycle.
If not, before you pick on someone smaller than you, try picking on someone my size.
These people and hundreds of other are among the reasons I will find it hard to leave this place. Yet I know that heading home is in the best interest of me and my family.
Sunday, September 25, 2011
There are 178 parent languages on our planet with over 1000 dialects... It's amazing we communicate at all. Eban Ozen
 |
| A ShopSmith. Similar to the two I have. |
Smiths". They are really cool wood working tools that are a combination lathe, drill press, sander, table saw all in one machine. They are really cool but I will never have reason to have two of them. Plus five to ten of the common tools, wrenches, sockets, screwdrivers. I've got the tools to make tools. Most of these will have sold at a moving sale.
But this post is not about tools or dogs for once. Rather it's about,
"Buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo."
For all my "school marm" friends and family get ready to have your mind blown. That is a grammatically correct sentence.
I was taking a break from researching K9 reproduction and what not when I stumbled upon this. Let me break this down for you.
You must first keep in mind the word "buffalo" has several meanings. First, the most common use of buffalo is an incorrect moniker for the American bison.
The second use is a proper noun for city in upstate New York. Buffalo NY , mainly known for it's horrible winters and spicy chicken wings.
The third is a synonym for "bully". As in "Don't try to buffalo me!"
That being said think of the sentence using the alternative meanings (The words in red are added for clarity, but not necessary to be grammatically correct.).
New York bison (whom other) New York bison bully (themselves in turn) bully New York bison.
If that's not enough to make an ESOL student throw in the towel, then I don't know what is.
Here's a link to the Wikipedia page with the sentence diagram that started all this.
http://en.m.wikipedia.org/
Just something for your brain to chew on. Have a good week!
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| buffalo |
 |
| Buffalo |
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| buffalo |
Saturday, September 17, 2011
**WARNING** Mature Subject Matter ( handled rather immaturely).
The first thing I learned about being a dog breeder is, I know nothing about breeding dogs. I mean I understand the basic mechanics of course. But there is really a lot of day by day scheduling, feeding, healthcare, licensing, and general business decisions. And that list only scratches the surface.
So I started with the basics. I fired up google and typed in "animal husbandry". For the most part it's not as gross as it sounds. It's mainly the art of selecting the bloodlines you want to breed, to produce the traits you desire in the offspring.
It's said that the only reason to breed dogs in to improve the bloodline. I believe that can achieve this while still making the parents bonified family members and keep the offspring as "product". I don't want to run a "puppy mill", but the bottom line is these dogs are going to be a business. I believe that by selectively breeding the right pairs, I can both improve the breed and make a living matching dogs with homes and/or careers that leave them forefilled.
For my German Shepards I know to accomplish what I want I'm going to need a couple of different momma dogs (I'm still having a problem calling them "bitches". I know it's just a term but it still seems disrespectful.) One possessing a higher work ethic. One possessing a more nurturing personality. Also I'll need a "stud" (it's either that or "sire" I have no problem with either of those terms because they both make him sound like a badass. Make sure you leave all your "double standard" comments in the space below ) that is a mixture of both.
This will be expensive at first, but it will yield two marketable bloodlines. The former for police or search and rescue or military dogs. The latter for home protection, agility training, show caliber family pets.
For the Chihuahuas it should fairly easy. I'm only looking for bloodlines that will produce healthy, good tempered, and cute and tiny family dogs.The main two qualities of temperament and size(and to a lesser degree appearance) will be the main selling points. There aren't really any working class Chihuahuas.
Back to google again. I typed in "animal midwifeing" which is way grosser than it sounds. That's the science of helping the momma actually deliver the pups. I'm sure that in that moment it's a beautiful rewarding experience, but trust me you don't want to randomly search for "puppy whelping videos" on the internet. But it is something I need to know. If you think of clinically it's just a process of helping the pups start their lives and help the mommas though a potently dangerous medical procedure.
There's also tracking the females reproductive cycle to know the perfect time for conception. This is a simple matter of little temperature monitoring and graft making. Along with some behavioral cues.
This line of research led me to the subject of "artificial insemination". Which I haven't ruled out, so I read on. The female part of which is just a well timed medical procedure. The male part however is much more of a to do. I may employee a vet to do this part. It may one day be necessary to have a "sample" of my dogs essence on hand, but the last thing I want is to come home to a candle lite doghouse with my dog sitting there with his "beaker" and a six pack of Molsen waiting for me. But like I said, I'm not sold on this. It would be a last resort situation.
My Great Grandpa Brown used to raise hunting dogs. I'm pretty sure he did more of the animal husbandry and left the midwifeing to nature and the mother.Not that he wasn't concerned with their well being. I want to take a more active role in the birthing to insure the over all health of my pups. And build a better relationship with the mommas.
The bottom line is that it is astounding the amount of learning I still have to do. So now it's back to the Internet for more research on feeding and training.
So I started with the basics. I fired up google and typed in "animal husbandry". For the most part it's not as gross as it sounds. It's mainly the art of selecting the bloodlines you want to breed, to produce the traits you desire in the offspring.
It's said that the only reason to breed dogs in to improve the bloodline. I believe that can achieve this while still making the parents bonified family members and keep the offspring as "product". I don't want to run a "puppy mill", but the bottom line is these dogs are going to be a business. I believe that by selectively breeding the right pairs, I can both improve the breed and make a living matching dogs with homes and/or careers that leave them forefilled.
For my German Shepards I know to accomplish what I want I'm going to need a couple of different momma dogs (I'm still having a problem calling them "bitches". I know it's just a term but it still seems disrespectful.) One possessing a higher work ethic. One possessing a more nurturing personality. Also I'll need a "stud" (it's either that or "sire" I have no problem with either of those terms because they both make him sound like a badass. Make sure you leave all your "double standard" comments in the space below ) that is a mixture of both.
This will be expensive at first, but it will yield two marketable bloodlines. The former for police or search and rescue or military dogs. The latter for home protection, agility training, show caliber family pets.
For the Chihuahuas it should fairly easy. I'm only looking for bloodlines that will produce healthy, good tempered, and cute and tiny family dogs.The main two qualities of temperament and size(and to a lesser degree appearance) will be the main selling points. There aren't really any working class Chihuahuas.
Back to google again. I typed in "animal midwifeing" which is way grosser than it sounds. That's the science of helping the momma actually deliver the pups. I'm sure that in that moment it's a beautiful rewarding experience, but trust me you don't want to randomly search for "puppy whelping videos" on the internet. But it is something I need to know. If you think of clinically it's just a process of helping the pups start their lives and help the mommas though a potently dangerous medical procedure.
There's also tracking the females reproductive cycle to know the perfect time for conception. This is a simple matter of little temperature monitoring and graft making. Along with some behavioral cues.
This line of research led me to the subject of "artificial insemination". Which I haven't ruled out, so I read on. The female part of which is just a well timed medical procedure. The male part however is much more of a to do. I may employee a vet to do this part. It may one day be necessary to have a "sample" of my dogs essence on hand, but the last thing I want is to come home to a candle lite doghouse with my dog sitting there with his "beaker" and a six pack of Molsen waiting for me. But like I said, I'm not sold on this. It would be a last resort situation.
My Great Grandpa Brown used to raise hunting dogs. I'm pretty sure he did more of the animal husbandry and left the midwifeing to nature and the mother.Not that he wasn't concerned with their well being. I want to take a more active role in the birthing to insure the over all health of my pups. And build a better relationship with the mommas.
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| Andrew Brown and his hunting dogs. |
The bottom line is that it is astounding the amount of learning I still have to do. So now it's back to the Internet for more research on feeding and training.
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