What To Write?

I have a much younger friend on Facebook who has started writing a blog. She falls in the gifted and talented category and has the potential to do any number of things. That’s not to say that she didn’t have a rough start. Seriously, what do I know?

I’d say it was a rough start, but I really don’t know for certain. I suspect being born in a Dodge Pickup Truck on the side of the highway on a cold night adds a sense of intrigue to one’s arrival. That’s probably not something that many experience.

I’m not suggesting that she had a rough start because if given a choice, I’d have opted for a Tough Ford Truck over a Dodge. That’s simply a personal preference. I’m saying that primarily because her mother missed the hospital labor room experience and forfeited the bright lights of a delivery room surrounded by medical personnel.

It would have to be somewhat unsettling to give birth in the dark of the night on the side of a highway. In addition, her dad didn’t have the opportunity to telephone family and friends to say that his daughter’s birth was imminent.

The other morning (it was not early morning), my blogger friend sent me a text: “Good morning Mr. Forrester! I was just brainstorming new blog ideas and thought of you.” She added a smiley face. That made me feel good.

So, was she fishing for information on how I chart my course and come up with ideas? Probably not is my best guess. On the off chance that her reaching out to me was a subtle request for help, I took the bait. I have never written about anything that falls into the category of rocket-science. I keep the subject matter simple (fat chance that I could do anything else).

Before I get out of bed in the mornings, I generally think about the previous day to see if anything comes to mind. Sometimes I attempt to find an adventure in the midst of the commonplace. On other days, I explore the resources of my memory to see if anything surfaces that a reader might find of interest. I’d prefer to have something in mind before I sit down in front of a computer, but that doesn’t always happen.

I also write about everyday life. That way, others can identify with what I’ve written and have the freedom to add their own two cents worth. Often my stories remind others of their stories. Isn’t that the way it is supposed to work?

I cautioned her not to write anything political unless she was open to losing half her readership. It is sad to say, but we live in a day that if someone doesn’t agree with you, the friendship fades and distance becomes the defining characteristic. How self-absorbed and shallow we’ve become! God forbid that our ties to others are that fragile!

One of the surprises I’ve experienced through sharing a daily blog is the new information I’ve learned about people, including folks I’ve known for a very long time. Some friends opt to send me a private email rather than respond publicly. In fact, I have a long-term friend who reminded me at the onset that he valued his privacy and would not be making public comments. Yet, he periodically drops me a note to affirm his continued interest.

A friend once sent me a private message: “How do you find so much information to write about?” He then asked a question related to his childhood memories and his mother’s mandate that he needed to eat everything on his plate. He went on to say that once a week, his mother prepared liver and onions because his father liked it. He and his three brothers hated liver. His father paid little attention to him at the table, so when his mother wasn’t looking, the family dog got a nice piece of liver handed to him under his chair.

He wanted to know if mothers had a way of circulating information among themselves prior to the Internet. How did they know about starving children in China? How did they come up with what seemed like a universal expectation that children needed to eat everything on their plate?

His were a good questions, but I didn’t know the answers. I, too, heard about starving children in China. As kids, we also had the expectation to eat everything on our plates. When given an instruction to do something, we learned not to ask, “Why?” We didn’t want to hear, “Because I said so.”

What unusual expressions did you hear growing up? Did you use those same expressions with your kids?

All the Best!
Don

It Felt Like A Shot In The Dark

On Christmas Day in 2008, my brother and I received word that our Uncle Kenneth had gone to be with the Lord. He had courageously fought cancer, but the prognosis wasn’t favorable.

A few months before, I had visited with him in Houston at the M.D. Anderson Cancer Center. He was referred there by his physician in Odessa. My aunt Maxine and cousin, Becky, were present at the hospital at the time of my visit. My uncle and his family seemed pleased that I was there. Ours was a close relationship and I was pleased that I carved out time to make the visit.

Because our relationship with my dad’s brother and his family was forged in the kind of love that lasts a lifetime, my brother Larry and I wanted to be present to support our Aunt Maxine and two cousins and their families. Consequently, we stayed in Odessa a couple or three days rather than hurrying in and out.

It was also good to share time with Larry. At some point, he laughingly said to me something closely akin to: “Kay tells me that I am just like you. I now see what she’s talking about. You walk around in a fog part of the time. You focus on one thing and like a dog chewing on a bone you can’t let go of it. In the process, you are oblivious to a lot of other things.”

That felt like a shot in the dark that came out of nowhere. I wasn’t sure that it was the highest of compliments. Of course, I was oblivious to what he was talking about. I know what you’re thinking. By my acknowledging that, I have substantiated that I am guilty as charged. Larry and I are like two peas in a pod.

Yesterday, Larry and I connected by telephone. At the time the General was in the car with me and the call was on the speaker. About 30 seconds after beginning our conversation, Kay got in the car with Larry. They were going to church and of course, Larry wanted to get to church 45 minutes early because he was teaching the class.

Some reference was made to the fact that Larry and I are just alike. I should have said: “That is the highest of compliments.” I didn’t think that fast.

I did respond: “While that may be true, has it occurred to anyone that the General and Kay are just alike? Larry laughed out loud. I suspect that he has thought the same thing. Larry and I are obviously a couple of lucky guys. How’s that for covering my tracks?

We both married way outside our pay group and our wives provide a lot of structure and oversight. Our wives are loving, smart, independent, and self-confident. I suspect thy both employ the same techniques in garnering respect from their husbands.

Let me share a couple or three things that Treva has said to me to substantiate what I’m talking about because although I haven’t compared notes with my brother, I suspect it will be all too familiar:

• How about this for gentle redirection? “When you were growing up, I know your mother told you that ‘Be neat’ is a Biblical command. I don’t think it is one of the two-word verses in the Bible such as ‘Jesus wept,’ but you are going to pick up after yourself. I am not your mother.

• I’ve learned that when the General begins a sentence with: “If you were industrious, you would…, I need to pay very close attention. If I fail to follow the hint and become immediately industrious, there will be consequences that I’d probably prefer to avoid. I hate the sound of: “If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a hundred times.”

• Another introductory sentence that merits close attention is: “I am going to ask that you not…”. To disregard that suggestion could be hazardous to your peace of mind. The most recent time I’ve heard the phrase: “I am going to ask that you not text on you phone if I can hear you pressing the keys.” Did I mention that the General hears everything?

There is no denying it, the General and Kay are very much alike. After all”

• They are consistently loving and a source of encouragement to their husbands.

• They are exceptional mothers and grandmothers and go out of their way to be supportive and loving to their extended family.

• They love their husband’s family of origin as though they were their own.

• This one is tongue-in-cheek: “They sometimes cook.” Anything for a laugh!

As a side note, for anyone to think I am just like my brother is to pay me the highest of compliments.

All the BEST!
Don

I Thought It Was Highway Robbery

When we stopped for fuel mid-afternoon yesterday, the General asked: “Did you see the windshield in that truck?” I had no idea what she was talking about. I didn’t even see the truck. I know what you’re thinking, “Who’s surprised?”  Okay, so I was lost in thought while I was pumping gasoline. 

I thought it was price gauging! Had I initially paid attention to the price per gallon, I would have gone on down the road. The thought of “highway robbery” came to mind. How’s that for being melodramatic?

I wanted a candy bar, so I was going inside the convenience store anyway. Why not look at the windshield that had garnered the General’s attention.  I couldn’t believe my eyes. My first thought was hail damage, but it looked more like the windshield had been hit by a boulder or two.  I’m thinking it had to be a rockslide down a mountain in Colorado, but I wouldn’t have wanted to drive that far. There is something about signage that says, “Look Out for Falling Rock”, that aways gives me pause for concern.

I did notice some hail damage on the hood of the truck, but it paled in contrast to the busted windshield. The thing that confused me most is that from my perception, there was no way the driver could see through the windshield to drive. From the outside, I couldn’t see through the windshield.

It may have been a tough FORD truck, but without a new windshield the vehicle was not safe to drive. I’m thinking the truck was a 2003 model, but I could be mistaken. It looked like one of my first Ford trucks. That was a long time ago.  

I bought the truck from the General’s nephew at a dealership in Marble Falls. He was a successful new car salesman at the time. He had the gift of gab; a baby face and he wasn’t a pushy salesman. I wasn’t looking for the “family discount”, but I wasn’t paying sticker price either.  Though that was at least twenty years ago, I’m sure he remembers that I looked at every truck on the lot. I was not an easy sale. Like I said, I wasn’t paying sticker price.

Only once have I paid sticker price. That was with my last truck (post pandemic) when there was a shortage of computer chips, and nothing was for sale. I’m generally a bargain hunter, but my previous truck had fifty thousand miles on it. I normally trade at forty thousand miles, but nothing was available. I paid full price for that truck and was pleased to find it. It is my truck that currently has $15,000 worth of hail damage.

Getting back to the truck with the damaged windshield, I was standing in front of the truck taking a picture, when the driver of the truck got out of the vehicle.  You could have knocked me over with a feather!  From his body language (i.e. scowl on his face), he didn’t appear to be a happy camper.  I attempted to engage him in conversation, but he wasn’t in a talking mood. He appeared to be in a hurry. Maybe I don’t give folks the benefit of the doubt, but as he headed inside the store, I had the thought he was going to purchase a six-pack or two and lotto tickets.

Have you ever noticed the persona of folks who always have money for lotto tickets? They look like they don’t have a dollar to their name, but they buy twenty dollars’ worth of lotto tickets, a carton of cigarettes and something to drink inside a paper bag.

By the way, I checked Google this morning to see if what I recently had been told about laws surrounding underage drinking in Texas was true. I was sure it wasn’t, but I was wrong.  In Texas, it is permissible for a minor to consume an alcoholic beverage if it is in the visible presence of the minor’s adult parent, guardian or spouse. Where else but Texas?

All My Best!

Don

A Story Of Survival, Resilience, and Redemption

I have a friend from high school who ran track. I won’t say that he was as fast as the wind, but he was light on his feet, and he could move quickly. His abilities as a runner were defining moments in how he saw himself. It was a sport in which he could greatly excel and if asked today, he’d say that track holds some of his most precious moments from high school.

As I write those word, I’m remembering Sheldon’s body-types from psychology my freshman year in college. According to Sheldon, there are three somatotypes: ectomorphs, mesomorphs, and endomorphs. It is an oversimplification, but you could say small, medium and large covers it. Folks who are figuratively light on their feet are good candidates for track.

I, of course, was an exception to the rule. I was a skinny kid, but I didn’t run track. My feet didn’t have the wherewithal to move as fast as my mouth. I was the class clown, but schools don’t give a letter jacket for accomplishments in that arena. However, I have wonderful memories from school and I’m still good for a laugh.

Last night the General and I watched a movie that was recommended to us by an aunt of my daughter-in-law. She said that “Unbroken”, the story of Louis (Louie) Zamperini was a good movie.

Louie was one of those kids that was frequently in trouble, until his quest for running was channeled into athletics and his achievements redefined his self-image. In 1936, at the age of 19, he qualified and participated in the Summer Olympics in Berlin.

In 1938, Louie attended the University of Southern California. He set a national collegiate record of 4 minutes, 8.3 seconds in the mile. During the race, he was intentionally spiked in the shines from competitors during that race.

Louie joined the Army Air Corps in September 1941 and was soon commissioned as a second lieutenant. “Unbroken: A World War II Story of Survival, Resilience, and Redemption” written by Laurel Hillenbrand chronicles Louis Zamperini’s story.

She writes: “On a May afternoon in 1943, an Army Air Forces bomber crashed into the Pacific Ocean and disappeared, leaving only a spray of debris and a slick of oil, gasoline, and blood. Then, on the ocean surface, a face appeared. It was that of a young lieutenant, the plane’s bombardier, who was struggling to a life raft and pulling himself aboard. So began one of the most extraordinary odysseys of the Second World War.”

It is not an easy movie to watch because of man’s inhumanity to man, but it will serve you well to do so. The movie is available on Netflix.

All My Best!
Don