The bank gals #2

Like the vast majority of folks, I have a bank. I do. Don’t have much money there but, what there is, the folks behind the counter take pretty good care of it. The folks that staff the branch on County Line Road are good folks and I always enjoy stopping by.

Now, my bank is a local bank. It is one of ten in central Indiana sporting the name Citizen’s Bank. I’ve just been to one of them. I imagine the other ones are just as good. 

The folks at “my” bank, over time, developed certain “expectations” from me. You see, I am known in some parts as a purveyor of bad one-liner jokes (Example: What do you have when you cross a roadrunner and an alligator – a dead road runner) and because I have an inner desire to make folks laugh, I will pop one out at every opportunity. Some of the jokes are ok and some may require medicine to get over. I do not know of anybody running to their doc. Least wise not yet.

The ladies at the bank, Pat (she’s the big dog), Nicole, Lillie, Jennifer, and somebody else whose name I can’t remember, make up most of the folks there. When I come in on Fridays to deposit my paycheck, I am asked for a joke. It has gotten to where I am compelled to cough up a joke before I can get my money. I always leave with whatever money I ask for. They are real good at that.

On one occasion, I did not have a joke handy so I figured I would try the drive-in lane. I placed my car where they could not see my face. I figured, if they can’t see me, I’ll be off the hook. Well, dang, that did not work at all. They saw my name on my paycheck. It was almost like they were holding the tube with my money until I could cough up a joke. Well, I am grateful that I had my phone with me which gained access to one of a million websites dedicated to clean and bad jokes.

Now, I will park my car and look up a joke before I go in. One of these days I won’t even be able to even get in the door without a bad joke. I don’t mind in the least. Going to “my bank” and seeing my “bank buddies” is one of the highlights of my week.

New places – new friends

Saugatuck, Michigan is one of the more interesting towns you would want to visit. It is a town full of old 19^th century houses coupled with restaurants of every cuisine and gift shops galore. With a population of about 925 people, it is an interesting town with lots to do. Lake Michigan is not far away with all its attendant attractions as well.

The wife and I stayed at the Beech Manor Inn. It’s on Pleasant Street which is a twenty-minute walk from downtown.  It was built in 1873 and is on the Michigan Register of Historic places. Scott owns and operates a B&B there. I am pretty sure he was not there when the place was built, however. He has done an excellent job in keeping the original style and atmosphere. He has a degree in culinary arts, and it shows in the superb breakfast he serves. Scott’s knowledge of Saugatuck and its attractions is wide and extensive. He referred us to several superb attractions and restaurants that made our stay unique.

B&B’s are also unique places to meet people. On Saturday morning, I got up early, grabbed a coffee, and went out to the beautiful front porch for a little quiet time. That’s where I met Anthony and Amy. They are from Michigan and have two sons. They were there for the same reason we were. A bit of a break from the routine of life. I learned that Anthony is a software specialist of some sort or another. I labeled him a nerd and he seemed to accept that. Amy is a soon to be a board-certified nutrition specialist (not sure if that is the exact title). After a few minutes of talking to these two, I was convinced that both knew all there is to know in their respective fields. We crossed paths with them a couple of times throughout the weekend and thoroughly enjoyed out brief visits.

We also met an owner of an arts store in Saugatuck. He was advanced in years but still had all his hair and faculties about him. A gifted artist, the wife and I were impressed by the quality of his work and its Christian theme. We bought one of his pieces depicting the many titles for Christ. Upon our departure, he asked if he could pray with and for us. Of course, we said yes.

The people you meet are what makes life son enriching. Such it was for us.

My buddy Laura

            I’ve known Laura a very long time. I reckon we go back at least fifteen years.  She is one of the best people I know. It seems, however, that every time I see or talk to her I wind up doing a hole bunch a manual labor.

            Laura is a professionally certified land scape designer. I think the better title would be a professional taskmaster. When I first met her, the company slogan she operated under was “Our plans, your hands.” For me it has been “Our plans, my back.”

            I met Laura at a networking event in Greenwood, Indiana several years ago. I had just moved into a new house and she was the ideal person for me to meet at that time. I wanted to have a professionally designed landscape.  The plan she gave me was perfect for what I wanted. My back, however, did not agree.

            For seventeen years, I worked and sweated to install and maintain Laura’s p[an. Our house became one of the better yards on our street. When I finished installing and switched to maintaining, my back was grateful beyond measure.

            Then the wife decided it was time to downsize.

            We moved one mile away into the perfect house for our retirement. The wife was happy and, as you know, “If momma ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.” All was well. My back did not share the same optimism, however.

            The new house had landscape that had been neglected for quite a spell.  I knew I would have to call Laura. I told my back. He was quick to remind me that we are in our sixties now. I told him I would tell Laura that we are old and would she design accordingly.

The plan she presented to me was spectacular. My back did not agree. “You’re too old for this,” he whined. I told him we had one more plan in us. He told me he wanted to retire. “You’re not sixty-six yet,” I reminded him.

I put Laura’s plan to work and it continues to this day. The back still whines. I show him what we’ve done. The result of Laura’s plan and his work has produced a work of art. There is much to do yet.

This morning, I texted Laura a picture of the front garden along with my back’s whining about the work she inflicted on him. “That’s what I do,” she jokingly responded.

My son has had Laura over to work out a design for his house not long ago. It was a success as has my house been. I can recommend Laura for anybody who wants a beautiful garden! Just don’t tell your back.

Annie’s Country Kitchen

The wife and I went to Glasgow, Kentucky (population 14,594 in 2016 – I don’t know what it is now) last weekend to meet some friends and enjoy some time together. It was a wonderful time and we decided this would be a great place for us for future get gatheriings.

Now, Glasgow is a unique town. It is, in my thinking, a very “southern town.” The downtown area was well maintained and had its own charm befitting many towns its size across the country. I kept looking around with the expectation of spotting Andy and Barney out on patrol in their 61 Ford with maybe Otis in the back seat. I didn’t spot them. They were, I would guess, at Gomer’s gas station. Anyway…

On Saturday morning, we decided to eat breakfast out as our B&B was lacking in what one may call a traditional “southern” breakfast (i.e. biscuits and gravy). That’s when we found “Annie’s Country Kitchen.” It’s on Cleveland Avenue in Glasgow. It’s a quaint little place and I fell in love as soon as I saw it. Even more so when the four of us went inside. We were directed toward the counter which was also the kitchen and politely told that the menu was right there on the counter for us to read and order from. We ordered (biscuits and gravy – of course), got our coffees (I got my own mug and filled it with their great coffee all by myself!).

Customers there are considered mature enough to find their own tables and we did just that. The waitress brought our food to us though we were allowed to get our own coffee refills. As we ate, there was a steady stream of customers and the atmosphere was very relaxed and down home. Oh! I forgot to tell you, I struck up a conversation with a fellow while in line to order. He was a lifelong Glasgow resident and was, I think he said, a retiree from Ford. Nice fellow and I enjoyed talking with him. Rats! I did not get his name. Anyway,

You know, I met Annie too! We did not talk long as she was very busy. I did manage to tell her that I thought her little place was unique and I enjoyed the visit as much as I enjoyed the biscuits and gravy.

So, if you get down to Glasgow anytime, be sure to drop in at Annie’s Country Cooking. Oh! By the way, they have “Catfish Fridays” there too. I bet its great.

Tell Annie Scott sent you too.

 

Annie’s Country Cooking

The wife and I went to Glasgow, Kentucky (population 14,594 in 2016 – I don’t know what it is now) last weekend to meet some friends and enjoy some time together. It was a wonderful time and we decided this would be a great place for future get togethers.

Now, Glasgow is a unique town. It is, in my thinking, a very “southern town.” The downtown area was well maintained and had its own charm befitting many towns its size across the country. I kept looking around with the expectation of spotting Andy and Barney out on patrol in their 61 Ford with maybe Otis in the back seat. I didn’t spot them. They were, I bet, at Gomer’s gas station. Anyway…

On Saturday morning, we decided to eat breakfast out as our B&B was lacking in what one may call a traditional “southern” breakfast (i.e. biscuits and gravy). That’s when we found “Annie’s Country Kitchen.” It’s on Cleveland Avenue in Glasgow. It’s a quaint little place and I fell in love as soon as I saw it. Even more so when the four of us went inside. We were directed toward the counter which was also the kitchen and politely told that the menu was right there on the counter for us to read and order from. We ordered (biscuits and gravy – of course), got our coffees (I got my own mug and filled it with their great coffee all by myself!).

Customers there are considered mature enough to find their own tables and we did just that. The waitress brought our food to us, though we were thought mature enough to get our coffee refills all by oneself. As we ate, there was a steady stream of customers and the atmosphere was very relaxed and down home. Oh! I forgot to tell you, I struck up a conversation with a fellow while in line to order. He was a lifelong Glasgow resident and was, I think he said, a retiree from Ford. Nice fellow and I enjoyed talking with him. Rats! I did not get his name. Anyway,

You know, I met Annie too! We did not talk long as she was very busy. I told her that I thought her little place was unique and I enjoyed the visit as much as I enjoyed the biscuits and gravy.

So, if you get down to Glasgow anytime, be sure to drop in at Annie’s Country Cooking. Oh! By the way, they have “Catfish Fridays” there too. I bet its great.

Tell Annie Scott sent you too.

 

My friend Webster

It was the greatest joy in recent days for the wife and I as we had the rare opportunity to spend a substantial amount of time with our good friend Webster. As he is what one might refer to as a “snow dog,” the chances of seeing him beyond the five or six months that he spends in Indiana each year, are not favorable. Our recent visit with him at his Florida estate was to celebrate our fortieth wedding anniversary. It was a joy and privilege that we shared that time with him and his staff.
Webster owns a security company and is under contract to provide security for two properties. One is in Indiana and the other in Florida. He excels in the discharge of his duties as there has never been a burglary in either residence for which he is responsible. Ever.
Webster has a staff of two who have charge over the administrative and logistical duties of the firm so that Webster is not distracted from his patrolling responsibilities. He is unmatched by anyone anywhere in his ability to sniff out and chase away any and all intruders. I myself saw him identify and repulse multiple flying fowl and an innumerable mass of lizards that wage a constant war against his client’s Florida abode. There is an unsubstantiated rumor that he has repulsed more than one alligator from the ground. That’s he said at least,
I have never met his customers as, so I am told, they live a life of leisure and travel so are not at the residence very often. I have met his staff though. They are a hardworking pair in constant vigilance to fulfill all the needs that Webster has, and they are many. His security duties are of such a demanding nature that he has no time to see to his own physical needs that includes preparing his own food and making his toilet. He does have to discipline his staff on occasion as well as train them in the various functions that are required. His tool for this is a ball and attached rag that he requires them to pull on while he yanks them around until the exhaustion of his staff implants the desired instruction.
Yes, Webster is one of a kind and he will tell you so. His staff is loyal and he has friends in both high and low places. He says he even has friends amongst the local pelican gangs. I have, however, heard more than one report that he is not thought much of among the hogs of Indiana.
That what he says, at least.

Ya’ll quit!

Dang, I wish folks would quit fussing at one another. Seems like every time I turn the news on TV or pick up a newspaper somebody’s is hollering at somebody just because they don’t agree with whatever was said or done and then everybody gets all riled up. Just about everyday somebody is hollering at somebody or a bunch of somebodies just because they said something (or stood up for something) they don’t like. You’re just being an ornery neighbor. Quit.

Haven’t ya’ll ever heard of the Constitution of the United States and its Amendments? There is this one that’s called the First Amendment that allows anyone free speech and all that. Just because somebody does something (or says something) you don’t agree with, that doesn’t give you permission to get all ornery like that. There’s lots of folks over our 232 years as a country that have died just so you can talk freely. Here you all fussing at somebody because he doesn’t agree with whatever you are favoring. Shame on you.

You know, a long time ago there was this fellow name Paul. He did a hole bunch a writing and he was one of the smartest people I ever heard of. One time, he wrote a letter to some folks he really liked. He said that they ought to take care of each other and think about other folk as more important than themselves. He also said they ought to do their work quietly and keep out of business that isn’t there’s. I take that to mean name calling, and back biting and all that. They call that gossiping where I come from and it doesn’t do a lick of good for anybody.

There’s another thing I want to rant about and that’s what some folks call fake news. That’s a fancy way of saying somebody writing and deciding what gets put in the paper or on TV is lying. Lying is as bad as gossiping and a lot of times it is worse. If you are one of those doing all that fake news stuff, you ought be ashamed of yourself. Didn’t your Momma teach you better than that?

Ya’ll need to grow up an learn some manners. Nuff said.

If it’s war they want, it’s war they’ll get.

So, it was all out war. We were ok with that. Nobody knew that patch of ground better than we did and the panhandle punks were gonna find that out the hard way. There was a lot to do to get ready for this certain victory and the permanent ownership of our land.

First thing we had to set up was stockpiles of clods in strategic places all around the field. That plus they had to be hid so they could not find them. That was easy. We just dug holes in the right places and then covered them up with loose dirt. They weren’t smart enough to find them. We added a few well placed tumble weeds but they got blown away.

The next thing we had to do was plan our strategy to react to whatever direction they came from. That too was easy. They were not smart enough to plan an attack. They would take the easy way and come from the direction of their own neighborhood straight towards the field right by James Butler Bonham Junior High School. Knowing that, it would be an easy defense. We could lay in wait behind the church that sat on the edge of our field. They would never know what hit them. We put our biggest stock piles of clods around the back of the church. We also put clod piles in various places throughout the field in case one of them got smart. Doubtful but we wanted to cover all of our bases.

We got it all done and everybody got his assignment. The last thing we did was make sure everybody knew they would have to be extra special nice at home to avoid getting grounded. That meant doing all the chores AND not tormenting the sister in the house (or, as in my case – the big brother). The last thing we needed was to lose men to home jail. We were ready.

Saturday morning came and we got our chores done as quick as possible (while avoiding a last minute grounding). We were all there in Stew’s backyard.

“We’ve done all we can, fellows,” Larry said with great sincerity. Steve and Gary had been sent out to watch and warn us when they sighted the panhandle punks. The ten of us remained in hiding in Stewi’s backyard and waited for the alert from Steve and/or Gary. We waited. Any waited. Lunch came and no word. It was summer and it was hot, hot, hot. Steve and Gary came back with no sighting. Larry and I replaced them until dusk. Nothing. Not even one. Where were they?

At dark, we all headed for home. “Tomorrow is Sunday,” Larry pronounced. “They will come after church. I’m certain of it.” We agreed we would meet back at Stew’s on Sunday after church.

Next Week: Wait

 

The unholy alliance

Given that we had been run out of “our” territory not once but twice, we were in  no mood to hear any guff out of the four meanest girls in the neighborhood. They laughed and laughed until I thought they were going to collapse. When they got back to almost normal (for a girl), they stood up (they had fallen down from laughing so hard) and faced us.

“Ya’ll are ridiculous”, Gail said, stifling yet another laugh. “Yeh, no kidding, Margaret added with a guffaw. “You know they are easy to get rid of, you know that don’t you?” Alice added, “But you all don’t know you have a secret weapon.”

“Secret weapon?” I was incredulous to imagine that these girls would ever stoop to think that we didn’t know about our secret weapon. “Of course, we know about our secret weapon!” Stewi tried to sound smart and all that. Larry had no clue about any secret weapon and said so. (Rule #1 – NEVER admit you don’t know something to a girl-EVER). That just made everything much worse.

Margaret laughed and said, “WE are your secret weapon!” All of us laughed in unison at that out of this world remark. “You! That’s a joke!” I was dead serious even when Larry asked how these girls could be out biggest secret.

“We’ll tell you on the condition that you all have to play four square with us at least two Saturdays a month AND let us use your GI Joe’s with our Barbie.

“NO WAY!!!” We were in complete unison on the matter and there would be no discussion. “OUR GI Joe’s play with YOUR Barbie!? Not on this planet!!” I replied at the top of my voice “You’ve got your Ken doll! Use him.” “GI Joe is much tougher than Ken,” replied Alice. She was right on that for sure but that did not mean they could make our GI Joe play house. He’s a combat soldier and that’s just the way it is. We would not budge.

“Suit yourself,” Alice was unmovable. “Hope you find a new field to play on!”

With that, we gathered up our Moon Pies and RC Colas and left for Stewi’s back yard. No way were we going to agree to Foursquare and loosing our GI Joes.

Next week: A new attempt

 

Licking our wounds

It took quite a spell to get all ten of us into the safety of Stewie’s backyard and the protection of his fence. That fence didn’t help much as our enemies continued throwing clods over the fence and into the yard. We retreated even further into the safety of the garage. That attracted the attention of Stewie’s dad who, upon realizing his back yard was being littered by clods, went out and ran those skunks off. We were, for a time, safe.

It was late Saturday morning by now and we were confined to the interior of the garage with a whole bunch of Saturday to get through yet. Larry went out to scout the area and was met with a merciless shelling of “Panhandle death clods,” as we called them. He was lucky he survived. We were unsure whether we would ever see daylight again until Max had the idea to walk down to Mr. Walker’s store and get an RC Cola™ and a Moon Pie™. We would be safe as Mr. Walker’s store was the opposite direction and further away from the field. Those skunks would leave us alone there. We would be safe out back and could talk over our plans for counterattack.

We forgot about the neighborhood girls.

Here it might be the time to explain the neighborhood girls. They were the bane of our existence. If memory serves, there were about a million of them. Unless we got to our field real early in the morning (btw: my Dad told me it was against Texas state law for girls of any age to be on the field at any time), we had to put up with them and their girly goofiness. Their entire agenda was to entice, invite, or otherwise rope us into playing with them. I’m sorry, but our “Man Code” forbade us from playing house, handling any kind of dolls (G.I. Joe™ was the sole exception), playing some goofy game called foursquare, and anything other than what met our man code. It was just that simple. We were ten years old, for crying out loud! Well, Stewi and Rusty were eight. You get my meaning.

So, on this sunny Saturday morning we went to Mr. Walker’s store, got our RC Colas and Moon Pies, and settled out back of the store to soak our sorrows. (for some of us, It took more than one Moon Pie to drown the sorrow). Mr. Walker even came out to see if we were ok. He went back inside his store and no sooner than the screen door slammed shut than we spotted the four orneriest girls in the neighborhood. Alice, Margaret, Brindley, and Gail came around the corner, stopped dead in their tracks, and stared at us. After what seemed to be an eternity, all four broke down laughing themselves silly. Girls do that you know. Our man code did not allow us to throw clods at girls so we just stood there and stared as meanest of a stare that anyone can muster.

Next week: An unlikely alliance.