JUST STORIES

This page is where I put all my stories when I don’t know what else to do with them.

• THE BLUE ROOM

  Alex was a loving and dedicated family man, but he also had other interests. He lived in Claremont, but he had a house in South Pomona which was his getaway and he hired me to do some electrical work there. This house originally was just an ordinary three bedroom house, but he had remodeled it into somewhat of a party place, It had one big room with a huge rotating bed with a canopy overhead…. Mirrors on the walls and ceiling…. Wardrobes full of women’s lingerie….. A bedside bar….. All plush furniture and carpet ….. Porno movies, shown with the press of a button from a hidden 8mm projector….. A surround sound system for wonderful music and some great lighting effects. I have to admit that I had fun doing the electrical work on it and contributing some ideas of my own.

  Now….. It just so happened that at that time, our kids had all left the house and Helen and I found ourselves with three empty bedrooms. So can you guess what happened?….. That’s right…..I did for Helen and myself what I had done for Alex. Except that ours was better. We left out the dumb stuff and concentrated on the fun stuff. I outdid myself with innovations, and Helen did great work sewing fancy drapes and pleated coverings for the canopy, bed and walls.

  We had fun constructing it and fun using it. Some of our friends thought we were a little bit wild and wicked, but that’s what we wanted to be…..as wicked as we could get, but never hurting anyone. Once Helen’s sister in Fresno introduced Helen to her friends as “My wicked sister from LA”.

  Our friends named it the BlueRoom. We let a few of them use it. I’ll not get into the details of all the great features. I’ll just say….it had all the right stuff.

  Of course we also had a water-bed room with similar features and I fixed up our little camper truck the same way so we had numerous places to have fun, but that’s another story.

  Below is a photo of Helen and the BlueRoom…….

  

  Recently, a family friend was looking through our photo album. and came upon this very photo and said, “It’s very pretty, but what did you use it for?” I told her, “My dear, if it’s necessary for you to ask that question, I don’t think I can explain it to you”.

  What happened to the BlueRoom?….Well…We had fun with it for almost twenty years, even though at times it caused us a little embarrassment when relatives from out of town were visiting us. We were getting old and thinking about dismantling it but what convinced us to do so was this little incident.

  We had a four year old grandson who liked to play in that room. He would hang by his knees on the canopy bar, and loved the vibrating bed and all the different lighting effects and music. He knew what every switch or button on the control panel did. However there was one button that I had to disconnect while he was around, and that was the push button that automatically brought the movie screen down and started the hidden 8mm movie projector to show the porno movies. Well, one day while Todd was visiting us we hadn’t seen him for about an hour. Helen Asked me “Where’s Todd?” I knew he was playing in the Blue Room as he often did, so I went to check on him……Guess what…. He was watching porno movies….. I had forgotten to disconnect the push button.

  Helen was upset about it, But I told her…..He won’t remember anything, he’s too young….. Well, that was just another thing I was wrong about. After I disconnected the magic button Todd complained continually about not being able to watch the movies, so I put on a reel of family movies for him to watch. That went over like a lead balloon. He kept telling me, “I want to watch the other movies Grandpa, I like the other movies” I heard that over and over again, until I finally got rid of the blue room.

  Can you believe it?…..a four year old, addicted to porn…..Below is a photo of the bad boy.

  

• AN AMAZING ACT OF KINDNESS

  I have always wondered why I can remember certain life experiences in great detail while other happenings are gone from my memory overnight. I know if I say or do something mean or hurtful to someone, it’s in my memory forever, but I’ve found that I remember other occasions when they happen to be very unusual and hard to believe. The following is such an occasion.

  I think it was about fourty years ago when one evening I was driving to a Lion’s Club meeting at a member’s house, where I hadn’t been before. I was staring at the street signs with the sun in my eyes, and when I saw the right street, I made a quick left turn and ran into a car coming the other way.

  That’s when I met Rachael. Luckily it was only minor damage because we both applied the brakes to come to a screeching halt. Rachael was a little girl in her early twenties and quite business-like about the matter, and did not even appear to be angry at me,  but I was quite shook up over what I had done to her nice little car.   Well,…. I gave her my insurance information and she tore the flap from an envelope and wrote her name, address and phone number on it then gave it to me, and we went on our way.

  The next day, I called my insurance agent to report the accident and he told me that if the cost of repair was not over two-hundred dollars it would not go on my record, and there would be no increase in my policy cost. That evening I called Rachael and I told her what my agent said. She told me she had already taken the car to a repair shop and they gave her an estimate of four-hundred-twenty dollars but she said she would see what she could do.

  Well, ….. It’s hard to believe what she did….. She took her car to three other repair shops until she found one that would repair it for two-hundred dollars. Can you believe it? The average person would certainly feel anger and hostility toward anyone who smashed into them and caused them to take the time for repairs, but not Rachael. I think she actually felt sorry for me. Maybe It was my hang-dog look……… I’m sure she saved me a few hundred dollars.

  Now…… Many years have gone by. My Dear Helen has left me, and with not much else to do,  I was going through some old papers and records and found that little piece of paper that Rachael had given me and was reminded that I had always intended to repay her for her unusual act of kindness.

  I tried the telephone number without success, so I went to the house address where the house looked like it was not lived in. I went to the house next door and told the nice lady my story. She said that she had lived there for thirty years and did not remember any Rachael but she asked me for my phone number and said she would see if she could help me find her.

  Sorry……..This is getting to be such a long story but I need to get it out………The next evening I got a call from Rachael. She was very nice and said that she could hardly remember the little incident, and that I did not need to repay her. I insisted, and told her it was for my own selfish reason that I had to do this. I don’t like to owe people money. So she finally gave me her address. She was living in another city about fifty miles away, so I mailed her a check and thought that would be the end of it, but that didn’t happen.

  A week later I got a long letter from her telling me what she did with the money. ( I had given her a thousand dollars. You know how interest can add up over fifty years.) She told me that since she didn’t need the money, she would put it to the best possible use and give it to someone who really did need it. So she gave it to three different people and explained each one’s situation and the need for it. Again, I was overwhelmed by her kindness and thoughtfulness.

  Since then I’ve kept in contact with her through email. She and her husband are doing well. Just retired. Close family. Two successful boys. She doesn’t know I’m putting this little story about her on my web page. She’ll probably give me hell if she finds it.

  Anyway, I just wanted it to be known that there are people in this big wide world such as Rachael….. You never know when you might run into one of them.

• ANOTHER ACT OF KINDNESS

  My dear Helen was in her early twenties and had only been driving a few years when this incident happened. She was waiting at an intersection for the signal light to turn green and when it did, she proceeded as normal,  But half way through the intersection a black Cadillac came barreling through from the cross street and smashed into her.  She didn’t get hurt but she was so distraught and terrified she couldn’t speak.

  Immediately,  a middle aged man jumped out of the Cadillac and started yelling “I had the green light……I had the green light……I had the green light”….on and on.  He wouldn’t stop yelling.

  Helen was so upset and frightened, she didn’t know what to do. The cars were blocking the intersection and traffic was at a stand-still.   Suddenly a lady in the car directly behind Helen came forward and took charge of the situation.  Telling the guy to shut up. That he absolutely did not have a green light.  Some people at the corner gas station had also witnessed the accident and notified the police.

  This lady seemed to sense that Helen was so distraught that she was almost helpless and she
  gently comforted and reassured her that everything would be all right. She parked her car nearby and waited for the policeman so she could talk to him and give her name as a witness.

  As it turned out, it was just a minor traffic accident and the guy did not have a green light but he did have insurance.

  This little incident was forever embedded into Helen’s memory and she always regretted that she did not even get the lady’s name.  But whatever her name or wherever she is right now, Helen and I would like to give her a hug and say……… Thank you… Thank you…. Thank you.

• THE CRANKY OLD MAN

  …..Last Sunday morning I was shopping at the local supermarket and was ready to check out. There was only one check stand open out of eight and there were four customers with full carts ahead of me. …. I’m thinking….. I need to do something about this……… So I yelled out…pretty loud…… “Hey!… We need to get another check stand opened up…. There’s a cranky old man standing in line here with four others ahead of him and the line is barely moving”……….. Well…after that… there was deadly silence…. Then I heard someone say……. “We’ve got one coming”………

  …..So another checker did appear and told the lady in front that she was next. Whereupon I heard the lady say, “Don’t you think you should take care of the cranky old man first?”…… Then we all started laughing…. But the amazing thing about this was that nobody seemed angry at me for my rude behavior. When you’re old, (almost 93), people are very forgiving. You can get away with anything.

  Added ….. Nov. 2018:

  When I moved into Hillcrest Old Folks Home three years ago, I put a sign on my door that read  “Warning … Cranky Old Man Inside” So now …..at 97 years old. I’m getting away with even more crazy stuff and still having fun.

• THE HANG-DOG LOOK

  I’ve often bragged about the fact that with over 74 years of driving, I never received a traffic ticket. To be honest with you I have to admit that over those 74 years, I’ve been stopped three times but only issued a warning,…..never a ticket.

  I think the reason for this great record is not my driving ability, but the fact that early on in my life I acquired an excellent, highly developed hang-dog look, which I am able to turn on at the drop of a hat.

  Once when Helen and I were traveling in our camper truck to Corn Springs…….. one of our favorite campsites, in the middle of the lower California desert, on a divided highway with nothing but sage brush for miles and miles and we were almost there, when I realized that I had
  missed the turn-off to get gas at Desert Center so rather than travel another five miles to the next cross street where I could turn around, I decided to take a chance and make a U-turn across the divided highway. It was a twenty foot ditch and I knew it would be risky.

  Well,… the old camper truck just barely made it, with Helen yelling no, no, no, all the way across, When I looked back to the other side, I saw a black and white highway patrol car with the officer looking scornfully at me, and then turning on his red lights and following me across. He just barely made it also.

  I knew that I was in for a bad time, But I got out of my truck and went back to face the flashing lights. He was a big mean looking officer and I expected the worst. So I turned on my hang-dog
  look and gave him this story while he was writing out the ticket.

  I told him…. “As bad as a hate getting a ticket, all I can think about right now is how am I going to get back into that truck and face my wife who was yelling no, no, no, at me all the way across. She won’t forget this easily, and it will probably ruin our little camping trip.”

  Well,…The officer continued writing, and when he was done, he handed me a piece of paper and told me in a gruff voice that as much as I deserved a ticket, he really did feel sorry for me and was just making it a warning. He told me he also had a wife like that.

  Now, I have to tell you that I’ve spent a lot of time looking into a mirror, practicing my hang-dog look, but as you can see from this story that a well developed hang-dog look is a good thing to have.

  Throughout my life, I’ve used my hang-dog look to my advantage many times. I first used it on my parents, then on my teachers at school, on my superiors while in the army, on building inspectors while in the contracting business, on friends and even my dear Helen, just to get my way.

  So now…..At 94 years of age I’m thinking about the time, coming soon, when the great angel wants to take me away. Should I give him my hang-dog look?……….

  

• DOYLE BARNEL and the CULL-PACKER

  In the year of 1929 when I was eight years old, my mother bravely took me and my three little sisters and one little brother on a memorable train trip all the way from Redondo Beach, California to visit her mother on a small farm in Ohio. We stayed with Grandma Lindecamp for two weeks, and got to meet all our Ohio relatives. It was a great experience for all of us, but there was one incident which I remember in great detail as if it were stamped in stone in my memory forever. And that’s what this story is about.

  I was playing in grandma’s barn when my mother came out of the house very excited and yelled at me that from an upstairs open window she had heard someone calling for help in the field beyond grandma’s apple orchard. So together we ran through the apple orchard into the freshly plowed field where we saw a team of mules connected to a piece of farming machinery. A young boy had fallen from a seat and was lying behind the mules in front of a huge heavy roller with his legs crushed under the roller.

  I learned these details later…….. It was a field used to grow wheat and belonged to the Barnel family who lived about a half mile down the road and the eleven year old boy was Doyle Barnel who was using a machine called a Cull-Packer to level the soil in preparation for planting wheat. Doyle told us that the machine had hit a big rock, and the shock had thrown him from his seat. Fortunately the mules dad stopped quickly when he yelled “Whoa”, and the huge roller had only rolled over his legs and as he lay there trapped for two hours before my mother heard his cries, he was so worried that something would spook the mules and they would pull forward and the roller would completely crush him.

  Doyle quickly realized that my mother and I could not do much to help him so he directed us to go out to the road and see if we could flag down some help. It would have taken my mother a long time to get to the road. so that was a job for me. There was very little traffic on that little road but I remember planting myself right in the middle of it, and after several minutes a man drove up and I explained the life and death situation to him. He was an elderly man dressed in suit and tie and didn’t seem to know much about mules and farm machinery but with Doyle’s instructions he managed to unhook the mules from the machine, which was a huge relief for all of us, but we quickly realized that there was no way that my mother and I and the stranger could push that big machine back off Doyle. So back to the street I went and after a half hour I succeeded in bringing more help……….. I think I did pretty good for a little eight year old barefoot boy………..

  Anyway, together we got the machine rolled back off of Doyle’s legs. He didn’t appear to have any broken bones, but was in a lot of pain and could not walk. Several of the strangers offered to take him home but he refused and said that it was important to get this field prepared for planting before the rains came and he talked one of the strangers, who was more of a farmer, into reconnecting the mules and helping him get up into the seat where he continued working the field.

  Three hours later………getting dark…….. We saw him with the mules and cull-packer traveling down the road toward home…….. I will always remember Doyle Barnel.

  

• THE TURKEY LETTERS

  A long time ago, when we were little kids. Before bedtime, our dad would hold several of us on his lap and read us bedtime stories. Occasionally, we could feel tiny little bumps on his legs just under the skin. Of course at our age we didn’t know what they were but we seemed to be fascinated with them and used to play with them and they would move around under his skin.

  After we grew up, and found the turkey letters among his old papers, we realized that those little bumps were actually buckshot from some farmer’s shotgun.  Also, our mother shed some light on the mystery.

  When our dad was a youngster. He and his buddies would brew beer or something like it out in the woods and have all night parties drinking the brew and roasting a turkey over an open fire. It seems like our pop was the one who always supplied the turkey and he became an expert at stealing the biggest finest tom around.

  After falling in love with our mom, and at her insistence, he decided to change his ways and enrolled in the Cleveland Bible Institute to become a preacher. From there, he wrote letters to all the farmers he had stolen turkeys from, offering to repay them and asking for forgiveness.

  What we call the turkey letters, are the replies he received from the farmers. Most of the letters are so old and fragile, they can hardly be read, but I was able to make a photo of the first page of the two best ones and I also printed them so anyone can read them.

  

  Mr. Geo. Streit                  Nov. 22, 1915    Polk Ohio

  Received your letter and to say I was surprised is putting it light. For I never thought of you as one of the guilty parties that stole my turkey. I would like to have a chat with you when you come home, for I had a fellow spotted for doing that trick and would like to know if he wasn’t one of the party.

  We certainly do forgive you George. You know what the turkey was like and if you feel you ought to give us something for him, you may do so, but I will set no price. Will accept whatever you feel like giving.

  Your friend as ever J. S. Cypher

  PS  May god bless you and ever keep you faithful.

  Friend George.        Jan. 12, 1916    West Salem, Ohio, R.F.D.

  Will answer your letter that I received last Saturday. Was glad to hear from you, but was awful sorry to hear that you was one of the bunch that stole my turkey. I would not have believed it from someone else, but as it is coming from you I have to accept it as true.

  Now George, you ask my forgiveness. I will forgive you with all my heart because now I think you are trying to do the right thing, but I want you to write and tell me just who was in that bunch because I have been blaming it all this time on altogether a different party and I have not treated them right. And then I have to go to this party and ask their forgiveness for the way I have treated them the last three years.

  Well George, you wanted to know in your letter what I wanted for the turkey. I don’t want any more than he cost me and that was $5.50 at George Camp’s sale. He was a full blood bronze tom. And that was not the worst of it. We could not get another tom in the neighborhood that fall and so we had to take our hens to town and sell them and go out of the turkey business.

  Now George, I thank you for being the man I think you are. I will always have faith in men that try to do right in the sight of God and Jesus.

  Your friend Ed Rickel  

  

• WHY DOES IT DO THAT?

   A scientific toy that wants to spin in only one direction.

  I have been forever fascinated by this little thing. Someone gave one to me when I was a kid. It was made of wood, but it did the same thing. Wants to spin in one direction only.

  Since they have been found in medieval caves of Celtic tribes, made of wood or stone, they called them Celts, but the popular mane for them now, is rattlebacks. They say it demonstrates Newton’s three laws of motion. I enjoy handing them out to strangers just to see their reaction. I’ve given out over a hundred and fifty.

  Einstein said that he was no more intelligent than the average, but what made him different was that he was intensely and passionately curious.  Well, I’m no Einstein, but I was very curious about this little toy.

  I took one to a Lions Club meeting and showed my friends what it did, and passed it around the table so each one could spin it and out of 24 guys at the table, there was only one who was curious about it. He asked me if it was magnetized. Most of them just passed it on without even spinning it.

  Once, someone asked me if it would spin in the other direction on the other side of the equator.

  It’s no wonder that people have such childish religious beliefs and don’t believe in global warming or the truths that scientists have given us.

  

• WE TRIED

  About fifty years ago, a member of our Lion’s club, Vince Ciscero, brought a program to the club which sent Helen and I on a journey that I can’t easily forget.

  Vince belonged to an organization called the Knights of Columbus. and they were involved in a project to get people to visit and communicate with prisoners at the Calif. Youth Authority prison at Norco. The idea was to try to help these young offenders assimilate back into society after they are released instead of returning to their previous (usually gang-related) activities which so many of them do.

  It seems that many of these prisoners have no family that cares about them and no guidance whatever. They were asking for couples to get involved with a certain prisoner who would be assigned to them, and communicate with them by mail or phone and visit them at least every other week.

  Well…. It sounded like a nice thing to do,…… so after talking it over with Helen, we decided to go for it. The prison was about a forty minute drive, but since our kids were old enough to stay by themselves, we signed up. There was one other couple in the club other than Vince who did this also.

  The prison staff were very helpful and accommodating and after an orientation session we were introduced to our ward. A 22 year old who had five months left to serve of a one year sentence for auto theft. James was from South-Central LA and had been in trouble before on drug related charges. He was a big guy but he seemed to be very gentle and well spoken and both Helen and I liked him from the start.

  Of course James was from a troubled family. His father was doing time in Folsom State Prison and his only brother, six years older than James, had been in and out of trouble all his life. His mother would write him occasionally and he had an uncle that seemed to care about him.

  Although he never finished high school James was determined to educate himself and seemed to be doing very well at it through the prison library and such. He swore that he was going to give up his old ways and work hard and stay out of trouble. His ambition was to become a screenwriter and had already written quite a lot while in prison and was anxious for Helen and I to read his stories and hear what we thought about them. He wrote mostly about growing up in South-Central LA. and did well at it.

  So…. We visited with him every other Thursday evening and got to know him quite well. I would bring him writing supplies and Helen would bring him cookies. As his release date approached, he made plans to go back where his mother still had a room for him. He had written to the bakery company where he used to work and they offered him his old job back. Helen and I made arrangements to drive him back to Los Angeles and he was so happy and excited to start his life over again.

  He was to be released on a Tuesday at 9:00 am. and we were to pick him up at 10:00 am. Helen had some little goodies to give him and although he had earned some money while in prison, I planned to give him an extra $50. to help him along until his first paycheck from the bakery. We really wanted the best for him.

  We expected him to be waiting for us at the gate but when we arrived at exactly ten o’clock, the guards told us that he had been picked up by his brother an hour earlier……….We were so disappointed ……We had planned to celebrate this occasion by going to a nice place for lunch and
  seeing a little of the neighborhood where he grew up.

  We never saw or heard from James again…….. Looking back on this experience, I would have to say that as bad as it ended, I would do it all again if I could…….. ….Through it all, Helen and I achieved what really meant the most for us. ….A feeling that we did something GOOD….

  ….Which I’ve always believed is what HAPPINESS is all about.

• ELECTRICITY AND ME

  About the time I started high school, I found a book at the Pomona public library that changed my life. The title of the book was “The Boy Electrician”. It was full of electrical experiments that anyone could do with just some wire and batteries and ordinary hardware. Instructions for making your own crystal set, radio, telegraph, telephone, electric motor, arc lamp, Tesla coil, relays, solenoids, almost anything electric. I was fascinated with that book and checked it out over and over again, and played around with every experiment in the book. During my high school years, electricity was like magic to me, and I couldn’t leave it alone. Almost set the house on fire once when I wasn’t paying attention. I knew all the best trash cans in town. Like the telephone Co. where they threw away old parts and the second hand stores that would trash old radios and appliances that didn’t work, but contained lots of neat parts for me to play with.

  I kept learning, and could even build a superheterodyne radio from scratch. After high school I did one semester of Jr. college, but was really not interested in any more school. It was summer time and my folks were insisting that I get a job, so I took the easy way out and joined the army. I had to get out of town. They gave me a uniform and I was an immediate hero. Giving my life for my country. This was July 1940. Not in any wars yet…. Wow, What fun…. I always wanted to be a soldier. My folks were so proud of me. Even got my picture in the Progress Bulletin.

  Since I knew something about electricity, they put me in a new signal corps battalion that was just being formed, destined to be sent to Alaska to construct and maintain telephone lines. They taught us how to dig fox hole and shoot guns and how to set and climb poles, string wire and cable and use all the army communications equipment.

  And that’s exactly what we did in Alaska, around Anchorage and later in the Aleutians.Since I was almost the only one in the whole outfit of 200 men that knew something about electricity, they put me in charge of the tech section, with a really good rating and pay.

  Lucky Me…. I enjoyed being a hero in the army…. Discharged from the army, after five and a half years. 23 years old and just recently married to Helen, I applied for a job with the telephone Co. in Fresno, but they wanted me to spend time at their school, and I already thought I knew more than they did about telephones. So Helen and I came home to Pomona where my dad was building houses. He had an eighty year old retired electrical contractor, Tommy Harrison, wiring his houses and I started helping him. After helping Tommy wire three houses, Tommy quit, leaving the house wiring to me. The houses were all pretty much the same, and I caught on to it pretty fast. The only problem was that the city building department kept after me to get a contractors license.

  So I did…….. I wired houses, commercial buildings, anything electrical. Always non-union. The local scab, that was hired to finish up the wiring on jobs that were being picketed. Mostly working by myself but sometimes hiring friends and family members who needed the work.

  After 40 years I gave up contracting but continued to work for a close friend who owned a business of several hundred employees named FDS Manufacturing. They made products from cardboard and plastics and had a lot of interesting machinery which I loved to work on.

  I developed a skill for installing computerized controls on older machines, replacing huge control panels full of all different kinds of relays, timers, contractors and mechanical parts with a simple programmable controller. I also worked on newer up to date machinery that came from all over the world.

  Sometimes I would build my own programmable controllers from small microprocessors and Radio Shack parts and I really enjoyed the learning and the challenge. I also enjoyed teaching other employees to do what I was doing.

  I didn’t work there full time or any certain hours. At retirement age, Helen and I enjoyed RVing with friends and visiting relatives wherever, but I went there whenever I could because I enjoyed it so much. They seemed happy to have me and there was always something I needed to do there.

  While working for FDS, I became a big friend of Radio Shack, Building many electronic circuit boards to control and troubleshoot different machines, but that’s a story all of it’s own that I have yet to write.

  In Feb, 2009 at only 87 years old, I had to quit going down there. Helen, with vascular dementia needed full time care. I couldn’t leave her alone. They called me a few times and I tried to help them over the phone, but I had to give up the great times I had with FDS. After Helen passed, Rob Stevenson, the current boss of the company, attended the Celebration of Life luncheon that we had for Helen and he invited me back, but at 91 years of age, I decided against it. So now I just stay home and play with the computer and my music and write stories like this one.

• NITWIT ELECTRIC – How we got that name

  When I started with electrical contracting. I wanted to find a business name that had some class, so I chose…..FLY BY NIGHT ELECTRIC….and had some business cards printed. Since I usually only worked as a sub-contractor, and for people that knew me well, the name didn’t make much difference to anybody but I always liked that name.

  Well….This is what happened to my classy name……It was summer time and I was doing mostly swimming pool wiring for several pool builders. I had my son Barney (18yrs) and a family friend Brent (15yrs) working for me.  They needed a summer time job and they could do pretty well without me with a truck of their own. We were finishing up a pool in Upland, and at quitting time, they were following me home.

  Town And Country Pools, (a company that we worked for) had asked me to check out a pool in Claremont for a problem. It was a pool that was completed earlier on Tulane Rd. We had wired a lot of pools on Tulane Rd. So I went by there on the way home to check it out. I drove in the driveway and to my surprise, Barney and Brent were right behind me. They were shirtless with that old beat up truck and I really didn’t need them.

  I have to admit that I had forgotten what the exact problem was with the pool but I figured I could just check everything out. As I headed to the pool area, a lady came out the rear door and yelled at us “What are you guys doing here?” Well, I told her that we were from Town And Country Pools and  were there to a…a…a ..fix something on her pool, and she yelled back to us “There is nothing wrong with my pool. Now get out of here.”……. So we did…

  When I got home I received a phone call from Tom Preece with Town And Country. He said that one of their customers, a Mrs. Riley on Tulane Rd. had called him and chewed him out for sending those stupid Nitwits up to her place for no reason whatsoever.

  After considerable thought and anguish, we figured out what happened. We had gone to 1458 Tulane Rd. instead of 1548 Tulane rd. Like I said,….We had done a lot of pools on Tulane Rd. After all I really can’t blame the lady but she certainly did hang a name on us that was there forever.

  The story got around to all the other pool companies and the guys we worked with. From then on we were known as Nitwit Electric. So….I had to have some more business cards printed,,,,,,,,NITWIT ELECTRIC formerly FLY BY NIGHT.   Our friends at Town And Country Pools  Had a magnetic sign made for us to attach to the side of our truck which displayed our new name….. NITWIT ELECTRIC

  Well, we got used to the name and had a lot of fun with it.  Brent even got us some special T-shirts made to display our name.

  

• THE RIGHT TO DIE

  After a long, painful illness, my brother-in-law, John, was terminally ill and on his way out. The hospital had called the family and said they didn’t expect him to live through the night. The family had gathered late that night at his bedside to say their last goodbyes and John seemed rather happy that it would soon be over. He was all doped up with pain medication as he bid them farewell.

  His oldest son, Ted, told me that he went back to the hospital the next morning and found that John was still alive. His dad told him he woke up this morning and said to myself….. “Oh shit…. I’m still alive”.

  Well…..later that day, John got his wish, but it started me thinking about the right to die. I’m sure John would have ended his suffering sooner if he could have done so. They call it suicide and there is no law against suicide, but John, in his condition at that time, didn’t have the where-with-all to do it without help. And there is a law against that. They call it assisted suicide.

  I know that some countries around the world, and four of our own states have changed their laws in this regard, But what about the rest of us? In my own case, My Dear Helen lived with vascular dementia for her last eight years but it was in no way painful for her, but if it had been, I would have wasted no time in putting an end to it. Making myself a criminal. In the case of prisoners who have come to realize the horrible atrocities they have committed, and desire nothing more than to just die and have to devise devious and ingenious ways to kill themselves in their prison cells, the government says no….you can’t kill yourself….We have to murder you. My great aunt, Thelma, who suffered from incurable cancer for years in a nursing home found a way out and just refused to eat or drink, but it took almost a week. Good for her, but if you’re a criminal, they have a way to prevent that.

  Now I’m wondering, am I crazy for thinking we should have a right to die.I know we have a right to live. But isn’t dying a part of living? Getting assistance to live when we want to live is no problem, But how about assistance in dying when we want to die?

  No question about it ……. Forcing a person to live can sometimes be cruel and inhumane punishment. And all because of some ancient writings someone found in a cave a long time ago and the way they’ve been interpreted by some religious Quacks. 

• NOTE FROM AN OLD MAN

  Sometimes when I’m in a restaurant or wherever, I notice a happy couple who remind me of my bygone days, And I feel the need to give the guy this little note. I always slip it to him on my way out so that I’m out the door before he can read it. I find that because of my age, I can get away with lots of stuff…. People will forgive me ……. Here’s the little note.

  Yes, I’m an old man, older than dirt. And my behavior may seem strange, but I can’t help it because that’s just the way I am. I think you and your pretty wife are at a stage in your life where I once was. And every time I see a happy couple such as you, it brings back memories of long ago, and I feel the need to share a few words with you. I carry these little notes for that purpose.

  My Dear Wife left me two years ago after a ten year battle with vascular dementia and during the sorrow and sadness of that experience, the one thought that was always on my mind was that I did not express my love for her as often as I could have while she was still able to think and understand. As I think back on it now, that is my one regret and it will always be with me. I wish so much that I could have her back with me one last time so I could give her a hug and tell her how much I love her. One never realizes the value of what he has until he looses it. I just wanted to tell you this so maybe you can avoid my sad journey.

• THE CANNED PUMPKIN

  I can’t seem to keep from writing stories relating to my Dear Helen, so here’s another one.

  When she would take her little doggie for a walk, she would stop and visit with everyone she met, whether she knew them or not. Same way at the grocery store. She would have something to say to anyone at the check-out counter. Same way in the doctors office waiting room or on an elevator or anywhere she happened to be. Sometimes she would start a conversation and everybody around would join in. She not only made a lot of friends, but I think she sometimes spread a little happiness with her casual conversation.

  Since I now go everywhere by myself, I’m noticing a big difference. Everywhere I go, people are so quiet. Nobody speaks to anybody unless they are spoken to.

  Well…… After thinking it over for a while, I decided I would try to take over where Helen left off. It’s been a learning experience for me. It’s really not my nature, but I think I’m doing fairly well at it. I make a special effort to talk to the elderly or people of a different race, or people with something unusual about them.

  Outside the Target store, there was a young man sitting in a wheelchair who didn’t have any legs. Just stubs, above the knee.  I said to him, “Wow…. You don’t have any legs….. What happened?”   He said, “You know…… You are the only one who has ever asked me that question.” Well…. He told me all about it and I think he enjoyed telling me. Of course I offered to help him anyway I could but he told me he was waiting for his ride in a special vehicle that handled wheelchairs.

  At Stater Bros market I was trying to find the canned pumpkin (the vet told me to give Ozzy a little for constipation). I asked a little elderly lady if she happened to know where the canned pumpkin was. So she started looking for it, and asked several others if they knew where it was. Soon, there was a whole bunch of us looking for the canned pumpkin, And we were all having a good time. After a while I heard someone yell out “I found it… I found it”. Sure enough a teenage boy, several isles over had actually found the canned pumpkin. We all laughed about it and went back to our shopping a little happier.

• BOB’S BIRTHDAY CARD

  We were celebrating Helen’s 59’th birthday at Vinces Spagetti Restrant. My son-in-law, Bob, borrowed some felt-tip pens and drew this picture of Helen and me standing in front of our camper truck. He drew it on the back of his place mat and made this birthday card……In case you have trouble reading the inside page, this is what it says.

  Happy natal day dear Helen.
  I never get tired of your yellin.
  As you lay down the law,
  With your broom made of straw,
  “Like it is” is what you are tellin.
  Best wishes for many more…..Bob, Wendy, Toddy, Sid

  

• ROBERT CRAIG

  I think he was about ten years younger than me and I remember him in my childhood as kind of a child prodigy who could recite the Declaration of Independence at only six years old. He became well educated with teaching credentials but just never seemed to be able to fit himself into society. I don’t think he ever had a job.

  He lived with his mother, but as she aged he became a burden to her with his odd behavior and other family members made him leave.

  So he became homeless and lived on the streets. He had a cart which contained all his possessions and kindhearted people would let him keep it in their garage.

  He doted on the Bible and related everything that happened to some verse in the Bible and wrote countless stories and manuscripts about it and considered that to be his purpose in life.

  My sister Audrey sent him to me and I agreed to let him store some of his possessions in my garage and after that, although I would occasionally see him on the streets wearing a heavy overcoat, even on a hot summer day. He never came back to my house.

  Years went by and I remember seeing his obituary in the newspaper and more years went by and just recently, in a remote area of my garage, I came across the box of his possessions he had left there years ago. Inside the box were some tools that I think were once his father’s and countless typewritten pages of his analysis of the Bible. But there was one page that caught my attention which I want to share with you. It really gives an incite to Robert’s true character. He must have written it while he was living with his mother. I printed it out below…….

  MEMORIAL  TO  A  LITTLE  FRIEND

  Oh little bird, why didn’t you fly away? But then, you didn’t know she would put you in prison. And so you had everything you needed,….seed, water, a new cage. But you were so frightened. I remember watching and listening as you flew back and forth in that small space. In fact little bird, you were so worried about getting out that you weren’t eating or drinking.

  When I saw you struggling so, I asked her, “Why do birds have wings? They were meant to fly, not sit in cages.”

  But she replied. “If I let him go, a cat will get him.”

  And so I agonized over you. The Humane Society was sending someone to get you. But when her truck came, she decided not to take you away. She said, “Put an ad in the paper, and if no one claims him, he’s yours.” So you continued to thrash back and forth. And you weren’t eating or drinking.

  Then I wondered, “If she picked you up so easily perhaps you could not fly.” So I let you out. And you flew beautifully…..to the window sill. Then you began pecking frantically at the glass. When I saw that you were hurting yourself, I put you back into the cage. How you struggled in my hands.

  I pleaded with her again, “The little bird is flying back and forth for hours.” But she wouldn’t listen. And you weren’t eating or drinking.

  That night you did not sit on your perch. Instead, you huddled in a corner at the bottom of your cage, with your feathers all ruffled up.

  I had a hard time getting to sleep that night. Would you be alive in the morning? Perhaps she would finally let you go. It was your only chance.

  But it was too late. By morning you were still all ruffled up and cold. I said, “If you give me permission, I’ll take him away, where he can die in freedom.” But no…. She would not listen. Instead she forced the seed and water down your throat.

  It’s so quiet now. I try to hear you thrashing back and forth. But I can’t hear you. Please, little friend. do not be sad like me. Though your life was cut short, you are no longer in prison. Your God has set you free.

  Yes, the Humane Society erred badly. But let’s not withdraw our support. If we keep on contributing our time and money, Perhaps the day will come when birds are no longer in prisons.

  Robert Craig

• ROBERT LEWIS MEETS RICHARD NIXON

  Yes, I’m talking about the same Robert Lewis that owned Foothill Beverage Co. in Pomona Ca. and later donated a considerable sum to the Pomona Valley Hospital to start the Robert and Beverly Lewis Cancer Care Center.

  Bob was a charter member and president of the Pomona Breakfast Lions club when I joined. He was very friendly, outgoing and popular and I have to tell you this little story about him.

  The year was 1962, and a group from our Lions club was attending a district convention at the San Clemente Inn. It was Saturday Night.  The night of the grand ball and we were all dressed for the occasion. After dinner we left the dining hall and went into the nearby ballroom where a band was playing and we could dance and socialize. Bob, however, was more interested in something else.

  The word had passed around that Richard Nixon was dining in a small dining room close by and people were standing in line in the hallway, waiting to greet him and shake his hand. ( At this time, Nixon was living in San Clemente after serving as Vice President with Eisenhower and before he later became President)

  So, while the rest us were dancing and having fun, Bob and his wife Beverly were waiting in line to greet Richard Nixon. After an hour and a half Bob and Bev joined us in the ballroom and told us this story.

  Bob said that after shaking hands and introducing himself and Beverly, he said to Nixon, “You won’t remember it but I shook your hand once a long time ago when you were campaigning for the senate. You had just embarked from a plane at the Ontario Airport”.  Nixon replied, “Why Bob, Of course I remember you, But this isn’t the lady you introduced as your wife at that time”…..

• THE SNAKE

  When our son Barney was about ten years old, his hobby was reptiles, and he had a collection of snakes and lizards which he cared for and enjoyed.

  Helen and I were all dressed up going to a party in the early evening. As we drove down White Ave. near the tracks we saw a snake in the road and realizing how much Barney loved snakes, We stopped and picked it up, and returned home. Helen had to drive while I held the snake. Of course Barney was delighted and we went on our way to the party.

  When we arrived home fairly late, Barney was waiting up for us and quite excited. He couldn’t wait to tell us about the new snake.

  He told us that he recognized it as a Gopher snake, so he put it into the cage with another Gopher snake that he already had. He said right away the snakes wrapped themselves around each other and squirmed and slithered all over the place and he thought they were having a fight, but then he saw a little pink thing come out of one snake and go into the other snake. I asked Barney if he knew what they were doing. He said “Sure Dad, They were making out”

  Little did we realize what was coming. For the next two years we had Gopher snakes all over the place. The baby snakes were so small, they had no trouble escaping the snake pen.

  Well………at least we didn’t have any gophers…….

  

• MY THREE FAVORITE JOKES

  These three jokes are really old.  Just like me.  I’m always amazed that so many people have never heard them.

  Number 1

  There once was a homeless hobo in the city park who had to go potty.  Since there were no rest-rooms nearby, he just squatted down in the pathway and did his business. Just as he was finishing, he saw a big policeman strolling up the pathway and realized he was in big trouble.  So thinking quickly, he placed his hat over the little pile and held it there,  and when the policeman came up, he said,  “Oh officer, I’m so glad to see you. I need your help……I’m Professor Goodbee from the Chicago Museum of Natural Science and I’ve been tracking this extremely rare African Foo-Foo bird for two weeks and I finally trapped him and have him under my hat. If I could get you to hold the hat while I go get a cage from my car, we can both become famous for capturing such a rare endangered species.”

  Well……. the policeman said, “OK”, and squatted down and held the hat while the hobo took off as fast as he could go……… After awhile the policeman is thinking, “what happened to that professor?…. I’ve got to get going on my beat……. I can’t wait here much longer……. Maybe I can raise the hat and very quickly grab the bird with both hands”…… So that’s what he did….. He quickly raised the hat and made a dive for the bird….. then he stared at his two hands and said, “Oh, No….. Look what I’ve done….. I’ve squashed every bone in it’s body”.

  Number 2

  Pope Harry had been ill for a long time and had been examined by all the best doctors in the world. The doctors all agreed on the diagnosis and arranged a meeting with Pope Harry to give him the bad news. They told him…..”We realize this is going to be a terrible shock to you, but in order to save your life, we need to tell you. You are suffering from a fatal disease called Lackanookie. There is only one cure for it and that is sexual intercourse.

  Well……. Pope Harry was truly stunned…….. He wailed, “No…. never…. I could never do that. It’s impossible!  I would rather die……So all the doctors and staff reasoned with him and told him that the world could not afford to lose such a wonderful pope as he. After hours of pleading Pope Harry told them, “OK….I will agree to this abominable act, but only under three conditions…… My partner in this crime must be blind, so that she cannot recognize me or see my pain…….. She must be deaf so she cannot hear my cries of anguish….. She must have big boobs, cause I like big boobs.

  Number 3

  My old friend Frank Pavia told me this joke. He told me that when he was growing up in Boston, all the policemen were Irish, and when they finally got one Italian policeman on the force, the Italian community had a huge celebration. This joke comes from that Italian community.

  Once….. one of these big Irish policeman came upon a little Jewish boy on the street and said to him. “Hey little jew-boy, what do the Rabbis do with all the foreskins they chop off you guys?”  The little jew-boy answered him, “I understand they send them over to Ireland where they plant them, and when they grow into big pricks, they send them back here to Boston and make policemen out of them”.       

  One more…….

  I pointed to two old drunks across the bar from us and told my friend,
  “That’ll  be us in ten years.”
  My friend looked across the bar and said, “That’s a mirror, you dummy.”

  One more ……

  Three old Georges were sitting on a park bench.
  The first one says,  “It sure is windy today”
  The second one says,  “It’s not Wednesday, it’s Thursday”
  The third one says,  “I’m thirsty too. Lets go have a drink”

  One more …..

  There were five old Irish buddies who often enjoyed having a few drinks at their favorite downtown bar, and once, after leaving the bar, Mc’Ginty was run over by a streetcar and was killed. After talking it over, his friends decided they couldn’t leave his body laying there in the street and decided to just drag him to his nearby home, which they proceeded to do.

  Since they all agreed that O’Reilly was the most tactful, they sent him on ahead so he could prepare Mrs. Mc’Ginty for the bad news. Upon greeting her, O’Rielly said “Are you the widow Mc’Ginty?” …. She answered him, “My name is Mc’Ginty,but I ain’t no widow” … whereupon O’Rielly said “It’s a blinking liar you are, We’re dragging his body home a block up the street right now”. Then Mrs. Mc’Ginty wailed, “Oh my god … That is so terrible. We just finished paying for his new false teeth”.

• WONDERFUL WONDERFUL

  The year was 1940. Pat Sullivan and I had both joined the army signal corp. just out of high school, at 18 years old. After a few of months basic training our company was stationed at Fort McDowell on Angel Island in San Francisco bay for further training before being shipped to Alaska.

  Pat and I had become good friends because we were the youngsters of the outfit and had so much in common. On Saturday nights our good buddies would always visit the red light district in San Francisco and they were constantly trying to get Pat and me to join them. I think Pat and I were somewhat afraid of women and were defiantly not interested in that. We would spend our time at the U.S.O. for free food and movies and our friends would join us after they had their fun.

  I don’t remember exactly how it happened, but one time we had to go with them to their place before going to the U.S.O. It was a big whore house taking up all of one floor of a big hotel, and Pat and I were just sitting there in one of the waiting rooms. The girls were friendly and they seemed to realize that we weren’t interested in them. Somehow our buddies got Pat into another waiting room and we were separated for about twenty minutes and when Pat came back, he was very excited and told me “Hey George….It was wonderful…You’ve got to try it”…. and on and on with the buddies joining him.

  Well…. I felt like I had no choice…. So I reluctantly chose Lucy. Lucy was not the best looking of the bunch but I think I felt sorry for her because of that. So Lucy took me by the hand and led me into a room where I paid her two dollars, which was the usual rate, and after a little smooching she proceeded to remove her clothes and I did the same. It was then that I encountered a big problem. I was wearing big high top army boots, and I couldn’t get my right boot off because the lace had become entangled and knotted, and it was impossible to get my pants or undershorts off over that boot. So there was Lucy lying on the bed, waiting for me, and there was I struggling to get my pants down over that boot. Well Lucy finally told me to just go ahead with my pants dangling there so I did the best I could under the circumstances, but after about ten minutes of both of us trying hard we had to give up.

  Lucy asked me to please not tell anyone that it didn’t work out, and I asked her to do the same. So I went back into the waiting room where my friends were anxiously waiting to hear what I would say. I said “You’re absolutely right Pat…. It was wonderful… I’m glad you talked me into it”…..Then Pat said “I’m really happy to hear that George, But I have a little confession to make……I lied to you when I said that I had done it……I wanted you to go first cause I was frightened by it all, but now that I know how it was for you, I’m going to give it a try”. Which he did. But luckily for Lucy he chose another girl. Naturally, when he came back to the waiting room, all we heard was “It was wonderful, wonderful, wonderful……….

  Maybe it was, but I doubt it…….. He was also wearing the big boots………

• THE HANDY MAN

  In the old days. (the 1950’s and 60’s) . Helen and I used to travel down to Tijuana just across the border from San Diego. Helen loved to go shopping there. This time, we went with two other couples, and were having a great time with tacos and margaritas.

  Bill and Eddie and I made arrangements with the gals to split from them for a couple hours so we could do something else while they continued their shopping.  Eddie had a friend who had bought a porno film there and we decided to see if we could find one. At that time, you could not get any porno stuff in the states.  It was all illegal.

  Eddie hailed a taxi driver and told him what we wanted so off we went on a strange journey. He took us to a motel that was like a courtyard, surrounded by little cottages, and when we drove in there, a bunch of girls came out to greet us. They were very friendly and we had a hard time making them understand that we were only interested in a film.

  The girls took us into one of the rooms where they were showing porno movies from another room through a hole in the wall. All the time while we were watching the movies, the girls were very friendly. And although Eddie left the room with one of them for about fifteen minutes, Bill and I just watched the movies. Eddie and I together, bought one of them for twenty bucks, and we got a taxi to take us back downtown where we met our wives right on schedule. Strangely, while we were at the motel, we never once saw a man. Only the friendly girls.

  The film that Eddie and I bought was poor quality black and white, silent 8mm; titled “THE HANDY MAN”. Probably made in the late 1920’s. A rather small and scrawny black man in overalls, carrying gardening  tools comes to the door of a beautiful rich ladies mansion looking for work. She hires him and watches him from a window for awhile and after seeing him go to the bathroom out in the yard, she invites him into the house where in spite of his small stature he proved to have exactly what she wanted.

  Eddie and I passed this little film around among our friends and we all had a lot of fun with it. One group of friends renamed the film “THE  BLACK  STALIAN”

• DADDY DADDY

  “Daddy, Daddy ….. My pee-pee’s hard”. That’s what the little five year old was yelling as he was pulling on his daddy’s trousers, trying to get his attention.

  It was a Lion’s Club affair and several of us were just standing there socializing. He kept telling his dad “Daddy… my pee-pee’s really hard. It’s sticking straight out. What should I do?” …… After trying to ignore him, his dad told him. “Just go stand over there in the corner and it will go away”. We all had a little chuckle over this wonderful example of childhood innocence. At five years old, he had no idea that we don’t talk about pee-pees ……And why not? …. I haven’t the slightest idea…….We talk about everything else.

  This little incident brings to my mind the first time my own pee-pee got hard, so now I have to tell you about it. ……………. I think I was about seven or eight years old. We lived near the beach and my sisters and I went swimming almost every day in the summertime. I was just dog-paddling in the surf when it happened. At that time, I knew very little about the birds and the bees, or what that little pee-pee was really used for. It didn’t hurt; in fact it felt pretty good, But I was frightened because I could not figure out what the hell was going on. Instinctively I was embarrassed and didn’t want to get out of the water because it made my swim trunks bulge out. Isn’t it strange how we always remember the first time something happens? Why am I telling this story? I have no idea……….

• WILLY and BOB’S SECRET

  Some folks will say I’m nuts for telling a story like this but I think it’s too great a story to be left untold, So I will accept the challenge and try to tell it properly without offending anyone.

  My daughter Wendy, and her husband Bob had a cute little Pomeranian puppy named Willy and once when we were visiting them we were all intrigued by Willy’s strange behavior. There was a leather sofa in the den that had about a three inch space under it and Willy was wiggling around on his back, in that space under the sofa and we couldn’t figure out what he was doing under there. Wendy said that she had noticed that strange behavior several times before.

  Just then, Bob cane into the room and took one look at the situation, and burst out into uncontrollable laughter. Well, of course we were all anxious to hear what was so funny, but when Bob was finally able to control himself, he told us that he couldn’t tell us because it was too gross. Now that made us all the more curious about what was going on with Willy under the sofa. Bob just kept telling us it was between him and Willy and too gross to explain.

  They say the truth will eventually come out, and it finally did. Bob was a dentist and for years, he would come home for lunch each day, and after his lunch, he would lie down on that sofa for a little nap before returning to the office____Now brace yourself____Here’s the gross part____ Lying on his back he would sometimes be plagued with buggers in his nose and since it was just so convenient, He would reach down and place them under the sofa.

  I guess for Willy, buggers were a rare delicacy.

  

• BOB ….THE WINNER

  Here’s another story that I probably shouldn’t be telling but these stories are so much fun, I can’t leave them untold.

  Once Bob was telling me about the good times he had with his fellow classmates while going through college. He told me about one occasion when they were partying and having a great time drinking beer.

  Each one of them was bragging about the size of his penis and saying he had the biggest one. The problem was that none of them wanted to be the first to show their’s. This discussion was going on and on and the girls all seemed to be quite interested in it and one of them came forward with a way to put an end to it. This was her suggestion.

  “Each of you will stand around this table and I will count to three….. On the count of one, you will unzip your trousers…… On the count of two, you will grab your penis….. On the count of three, you will flip it out and lay it on the table. Now will you all agree to this?”

  There was some discussion but finally they all agreed, So they gathered at the table and the gal proceeded with the count. On the count of one they all did it …..On the count of two they all did it …….. On the count of three, Bob was the only one who did it….. The others all roared with laughter and applause and shouted … “You Win … You Win … You Win”

• HILLARY and VIAGRA

   Hillary was the only bachelor in our Lion’s Club a few years ago, and we were having a great discussion about the Viagra ads we were seeing on television. In particular, the line about “If your erection lasts longer than four hours, call your doctor right away”. Hillary, who is usually kind of quiet, Shouts out……….. “What a bunch of baloney that is……… If I had an erection that lasted four hours, I would never, ever, call a doctor…… I would call every girlfriend that I ever knew”

  Now…..There just happens to be another story that is related to this story.

  MY BIG MOUTH 

  Recently, I moved into a retirement community called Hillcrest. Run by the Church of the Brethern.  I realized that I had almost completely worn out this old body that I had lived in for 94 years. I can’t see much….can hardly hear anything….. can barley walk…. My little brain can’t think or remember much. The only thing that still works is my big mouth, and it’s usually working overtime.

  My sisters and I were having our usual Saturday luncheon in the little Hillcrestcafé and for some reason I was telling them the little story about Hillary and when it came to where Hillary yelled out…….. “What a bunch of baloney that is……… If I had an erection that lasted four hours, I would never, ever, call a doctor……I would call every girlfriend that I ever knew” ……I yelled it out just like Hillary did ……….That’s when my sister Mildred jumped up and started yelling at me …. “George … George … Be quiet … Shut up … Everybody’s looking at us”.

  Well……I did see some looks coming my way……Some scornful, some smiling, But I think everyone saw that I was just another old man doing what old men do. I really should have been embarrassed but old men don’t embarrass easily. So I just gave Mildred one of my favorite poems.

  Sticks and stones will break my bones
  But looks will never hurt me.