Cranks My Tractor

When you just don't know what to say

When you get a message that says, “Can you call me,” you stop and ask yourself, “I wonder what’s up?” Then again, you get those and you think the worst. Someone is very sick or someone has passed away. I got one of those this week and I just didn’t know what to say.

After I got the bad news, I simply sat and thought, and then I cried. Not about getting sick or how my buddy died, but I thought about that little boy back in the late 60’s. He looked a little funny because his head was kind of bigger than the other boys. He was also much larger than the other boys in the first grade.

Searching for Truman Waters

We often look for excuses to do things we want to do, rather than doing things we need to do. Well, I am speaking for myself. Maybe you don’t do this. The other day I was faced with a situation where I needed to get some things out of a warehouse, but the warehouse folks were not in and I had forgotten my code to get through the gate. I made a call and left a message that I needed some help getting into the facility.

In the meantime, I decided I would “search for Truman Waters.” It had been many years since I had seen him, at least 35 years. My brother told me if I could find a certain church, I could find his house, because Truman Waters lived right across the road. I found the address and put it into my phone. I would need to do this if I were going three or four blocks in my own neighborhood, it’s just one of those things that I have to do.

My mapping gizmo said that it would take about 30 minutes to get to the church I was looking for somewhere in or around rural Randolph or Cleburne County. Honestly, I couldn’t figure out which county I was in – it didn’t matter. I wanted to see if I could find Truman Waters.

Dear Aunt Ruby

My Aunt Ruby passed away over two years ago at the age of 80. She was sweet and kind and always had wonderful things to say to lift you up. She was thankful for the smallest things in life and saw the toughest roads as happy journeys she was meant to be traveling.

While she was still living, I wrote stories about her noting how much she enjoyed her yellow swing on her front porch. She described the weather with the words of an artful Southern writer who wanted to put you in the swing with her. For these reasons and because she always wanted us to be thankful for everything, I put a little place on the internet just for her.

Does white or brown sand attract more Yankees?

Not really a nice way to ask that question is there? Honestly, I was just pondering the white sand versus brown sand conundrum and thought I would consider the question. Growing up in the South, the only beaches I ever knew were the snow-white beaches on the Florida Panhandle, thus I might be a little prejudice when it comes to which I prefer.

Having visited the Outer Banks of North Carolina quite a few times over recent years, I must say that the brown sand is quite nice also. The people are wonderful in both places, but the Yankee edge would have to go to the Outer Banks brown sand, simply because their beaches are further north, thus folks from the New Jersey and New York areas can get there much easier.

Witness for the Defense

When I write, I try to tell the truth to the best of my ability. I will sometimes get technicalities and specifics mixed up, but the gist of what I’m saying generally goes in the right and truthful direction. That being said, in my story about my next-door neighbor’s dog’s run in with the local police, I errantly noted that the police had pulled their weapons on the Husky because they were afraid she might start gnawing on the protected goose or geese.

It was actually a swan. As I noted, the Husky was swimming after a deer and the police were concerned, because the bird in question has been known to frequent this area of the backwater where the pursuit was happening. Not wanting it to be the Swan’s Swan Song was the reason given for the officers being in attack mode, as well as their thinking the wet dog might pose a threat to them.

Honestly, I do understand how a wet Husky might look a little like a wolf or something, but my neighbor was there to tell them she would not attack. My neighbor did get a violation or citation for his dog not being on a leash and has to appear in court.

Criminals All Around

I’m starting to feel overlooked and not very special. It seems there have been a rash of criminals in my neighborhood lately. The last time I was “warned,” I had left a congratulatory sign for my daughter’s high school graduation in the yard too long. That was three years ago and I think I had left the sign in the yard for almost a week.

My homeowners’ association and neighborhood police force seem to be back on the job and hot after those who are not obeying the rules. I honestly understand having rules and don’t get too bent out of shape when they point out the big things. However, sometimes it seems that it comes in spurts and can be a bit ridiculous.

The way I figure it, one person gets mad at another and reports them. Then the violator, in an attempt to either justify their infringement or to get back at who they think reported them, starts pointing fingers. Then the cloud grows wider and wider, moving from street to street and folks start trolling the neighborhood for infractions in able to ask, “What about this house?”

Chik-chik-cha-chik

It’s difficult to describe, but it’s so distinctive. When you hear the “chik-chik-cha-chik,” followed by the “ding,” and the dragging “ziiiiiiiiip.” If you’ve heard an old typewriter, you don’t forget the sound. It is somewhat difficult to describe, but it’s one of those things that you can identify pretty easily.

Growing up and having a father in the newspaper business, I knew about typewriters and I knew what a room full of typewriters being used sounded like in Alabama’s largest home owned daily newspaper. The smell of ink still kind of gets to me, having worked there myself through high school, college and graduate school.

My first publishing experience was in the fourth grade. Having transferred back into the public school with many of my friends and my Mama being a schoolteacher, made the transition rather easy.

Double Dog Dare

As for the term, we’ve all heard it, the origin although seemingly to be of American invention, probably is not. Younger folks probably thing it was invented by the folks who wanted to worry about Ralphie shooting his eye out with his Red Ryder BB gun in the movie, “A Christmas Story.”

It seems that the folks over in England want to claim the origin of the term, probably rightfully so. There was a book, “The Child in Folk-Thought,” published in England back in 1896 that they claim first used the term. In the book, the author discusses American children using terms like, “I dare you; I black dog dare you; I double black dog dare you.” Over the years, the black dog part was simplified to the “dog dare” and “double dog dare.”

The “black dog” term was slang for a bad or counterfeit shilling, the term used by thieves dating back to around 1700 in England. Why a black dog? It seems black dogs were scarier than others. I wish someone would tell my big black poodle that he was scary; although I don’t think it would work. He seems to roll over when a Chihuahua comes into the yard.

Janitor or Custodian?

Have you ever considered the difference between the two? I’m not sure what the real difference is, but it seems that I’m not the only one who gets mixed up. Traditionally, a janitor is entrusted with cleaning jobs, whereas a custodian is a person in charge of looking after a property or a child.

The confusion comes in because many janitors are seen performing other roles traditionally considered fit for a custodian. It seems a custodian is there on the premises of the property they are entrusted to maintain, whereas a janitor performs their duties in the morning or evenings. In the comparison, you can bring in the toilets, floors, security and changing of the light bulbs.

Still, very confusing…

People just don't do that anymore

Although I truly enjoy cooking, I also enjoy going to the Thai restaurant less than five minutes from my house. It’s my “Cheers,” you know the sitcom about the bar that ran on NBC from the early 80’s to the early 90’s. I don’t remember it being “political,” like so many television shows are now.

Cheers was good comedy and the reason that my Thai restaurant is my “Cheers” is not because I go there and drink, but because when I go in everyone knows my name. It is nice to be smiled at and spoken to and your humor laughed at. I’m sure my 12th grade English teacher would be cringing if she saw that last sentence.

Sometimes I do think that they don’t necessarily understand everything that I say. They speak and understand English very well, but they are not necessarily used to hearing it spoken with an Alabama brogue. So they smile and laugh a lot. I like that, as well as the food.