Demonsitting!!!

Den of the Beastly Bear

Hi folks!

Back in the bygone days of yore when I was not gainfully employed in any significant manner, I sold my soul into the bondage of babysitting...or more to the point Demon sitting!

You see, there lived in our hamlet a single Mother named Maria, who was a Nurse by trade. Divorced, she had custody of her children Carl 6, and Lisa 8. Such sweet looking children...little would you have known that they were, in fact...demon possessed.

I came to be lured into this Faustian bargain as every single female in the neighborhood of child watching age had been approached and run screaming when asked. Citing previous hellish encounters, those that didn't flee sat gibbering nonsensically to themselves as they rocked, hollow-eyed and trembling.

Having a date, and at her wits end Maria asked me if I'd be interested. I was skeptical at first, but the lure of $15 for about 3-4 hours work was to my '70s era mind the deciding factor.

I was 14 at the time, not tall but big for my age and frequent visitor to our schools weight room during gym class. What had I to fear?!?

That first time was the sweet-spot, that made me think how foolish these girls had been to turn down such easy money. Perhaps it was that they were not familiar with me that kept them at their best behavior. They listened, ate dinner and went to bed with absolutely zero problems. They were polite and well behaved, the picture of contrite compliance.

It was not to last...

When asked if I'd be willing to do it again, I was quick to say I would. Remember now, the minimum wage was $2.35 at the time.

This should have been a clue.

From the start Maria had told me, in front of her kids even, that should they require it...she was more than ok with me paddling their asses. I assured her that I didn't think that would be necessary, and turning to the monsters...I mean children said, "Right guys?"

I got open-mouthed, wide-eyed nods.

As our times together progressed, and they became more familiar with me they started acting out. Not in big ways, but subtly pushing boundaries.

Finally, the masks came off and I learned just why I was the only one brave, nay foolish enough to watch them.

They had a slightly older cousin, a toe-headed little blond child of the corn that I sometimes watched with them for an extra $5. I can't recall her name but things were always more of a problem when she was there.

One night things were quiet, the kids were playing in the playroom...soft talking and giggles were all I heard. I was in the living room looking at Maria's new coffee table book, "The Treasures of King Tut". The exhibit was making it's U.S. debut and was all the rage. The Bee Gee's were softly singing "More than a Woman to Me" off the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack when I heard a "Smack" followed by an ear-splitting shriek!!!

I sprang off the couch and was almost to the playroom when Lisa shot out the door and down the hallway perpendicular to the one I was in, screaming like the devil himself were after her...and he was. Carl, hockey stick over his head like an irate Samurai was hot on her heals. I glanced into the playroom where the cousin was cradling her arm and crying.

I backtracked, heading them off as they came up the other hallway.

I turned sideways to let Lisa shoot past me, then turned full on filling the opening and blocking Carls path. He showed no signs of slowing down even as I reached out and snatched the hockey stick from his grip. This brought him up short, and he looked up at me with a perplexed expression on his face for a heartbeat...before drilling me right in the nuts!!!

He was at the perfect height, and his straight-armed shot could not have been more effective had it been delivered by Muhammad Ali.

He put everything he had into it.

Air left my lungs, my knees buckled and my vision dimmed...and then the little shit laughed.

You know the saying "Don't poke the bear"? There is a reason it remains in our common vernacular.

Surprise and pain gave way to anger, and as I straightened up...Carl knew. As he tried to back away I snatched him up by a handful of Scooby doo T-shirt, brought him to eye level and said "ENOUGH!"

I carried him that way for the 5 or so steps to his room, opened the door and tossed him on his bed.

"You come out of this bedroom for anything other than the bathroom for the rest of the night and you won't sit right for a WEEK! Got me???"

He nodded and I slammed the door like a thunderclap.

Pictures bouncing, but not falling off the walls.

Lisa, who had seen my handling of Carl was frozen to the spot.

I knelt down and quietly asked her if she was ok, did Carl hit her with the stick too? She shook her head and the tears started, I scooped her up and she clung to my neck as we went to check on the cousin.

She was still crying and had a nasty welt on her forearm so I moistened a dish towel and filled it with ice. I cracked it against the counter a couple of times to break it up into smaller pieces then applied it to her arm.

There were no VCR's or cartoons to watch so the two of them ended up on my lap looking at the book with me.

Carl came out only once, to use the bathroom and apologize, then started crying when I made him go back to bed. I told him he could have seriously hurt the girls, maybe broken his cousin's arm. His excuse was "They wouldn't play with me..."

My response was "Well, who's playing with you now???"

When Maria got home I told her everything, she listened intently, asked if I was ok and...was I free next Saturday? 

*sigh* "Sure."

I came to dread watching them, it was something every damn time.

Finally, I got a part-time job at the sporting goods store and was able to buy back my soul...it just wasn't worth it.

Let's hope your experiences were better than mine!

Be Well Folks, 

Beastly Bear

A Beastly Short Story...

Den of the Beastly Bear

Hi Folks!

We're gonna try something a little different tonight.

I was chatting with Kathy over at The Giggling Truckers Wife Writes. She asked if I'd edit something she wrote, give her my take and make any suggestions that struck me. I was once again deeply honored that she would ask little ole me to do such a thing, as I think SHE is brilliant! She was writing a 100-word short story to a picture prompt. She had already written a great story, but it was too long. She kicked around a couple ideas with me, maybe changing her take. She settled on a rewrite of her initial idea, and it's a good one! You can find it at the link above.

But our discussion was rolling around in my head, and I started writing my own little story for the prompt in my head...and thought "I should write this down.".  I however, did not follow the 100-word restriction as I wasn't doing the challenge.

So, here is my foray into short fiction using the same picture as Kathy. You have her to blame...
Hope you enjoy.

Sunset

As Jane poured the last of the wine into her glass, she stared out at the setting sun and wiped away a tear. She thought it a metaphor for her relationship with Dave, who lay motionless in the bed where they'd just made love. For the very last time.

High School sweethearts, they'd been together through 20 years and two kids, good times. But that was over now, and never would be again. It was the affair.... 

An intern, barely out of college. Wide-eyed and so impressed with him, he thought she didn't know.

So for their anniversary she rented a room by the sea. His favorite wine and they'd make love one last time before she told him she knew. She loved him so much, it was the only way she could let him go.

So when it was over and he lay drowsy and spent, she got up for more wine.
Her purse was right there, and she asked over her shoulder "Were you thinking of her?"
"What are you talking about?" He asked hesitantly.
"I said, were you thinking of her?" She said slowly as she turned and leveled the revolver at his chest.

The windows were open and she could hear them coming, a distant wail over the crash of waves. Everyone's windows were open, a gentle breeze blew in off the ocean so she was sure everyone had heard. She finished her wine, raised the gun to her head and looking out on the last sunset of her life. Joined him in the next.

Well, there you have it...something a little different from your friendly neighborhood Beastly Bear. Please let me know what you think...I am truly interested.

Be Well Folks, 

Beastly Bear

8 Pics of Happiness Challenge

Den of the Beastly Bear 

Hi Folks! 

Wow, it's been a while...time sure does get away from you! It's been almost 3 months since my last post.

I've been tagged by my good friend Kathy over at Giggling Truckers Wife in the 8 pictures of Happiness blog prompt. Always one to support my friends, and perhaps needing a boot in the ass...
Here goes:

Pretty, pretty damn expensive! Lol

#1) These two ladies! Momma Bear Kathy and Princess Bear Kaitlin. Without these two I might have more money, but my life would surely be diminished in ways I might never understand.

On Squirrel Patrol

Lovin' her Daddy

#2) My Mocha, our rescue pup. The sheer joy she displays when I come home, the unconditional love, the quiet companionship...she's my baby.

Probably should be something from Craig Johnson or George R.R. Martin

#3) Books!!! What can I say...if I'm not talking I'm probably reading!!! Talk about cheap entertainment?
You might pay upwards of $10 for a 90 min. movie, for that same money I might be entertained for weeks!!!

My Guncrafter Industries 50GI conversion on my Glock 21SF

#4) Shooting. Rifles, pistols, shotguns, bows, you name it!!! If it shoots, I like it. There is a certain zen mastery thing going on to take this tool, bend it to your will and hit a target from several feet to several hundred yards away.

Awesome movie, just make sure you watch the directors cut (European version)

#5) Movies. Old or new, doesn't matter...my favorites I'll watch every time they are on. They don't even have to be particularly good for me to like them...
Don't get Momma bear going on how many times she has had to set through Ronin or The Fifth Element!

I got the music in me!

#6) Music. 60's, 70's, 80's even the 90's after that, let's be honest...music started to suck. Don't believe me?
Two words: Justin Beiber

My 2010 Triumph Rocket III

#7) The Ride. Remember when we used to just go for a ride? No destination, no timetable, just pick a direction and go...see where the road takes you. In a car was nice, but there's just something about taking your special someone on the back of your bike. The feel of the wind, the smell of the air that you'd miss in your car, but most of all their arms around you as you cruise into the night.

Ahhhh, the sea after a storm...

#8) Solitude. Sometimes there is a simple joy associated with just being ok to be alone with your thoughts. No conversation to keep up, no one to accuse you of not listening, not helping, not caring...etc. Sometimes it's just good to be alone.

Ok folks, there you have it...
My 8 pictures of Happiness. I guess according to the rules I must tag other bloggers...

Here are the guidelines for the eight photos of happiness bloghop:

1. Tag me in your post.
2. Link to the creator of the tag. In this case Vidya Sury!
3. Show off your own 8 photos of happiness and have fun picking them!
4. You can add a little description of the photos or just let the photos speak for themselves. Easy!
5. Tag others. Essentially, spread the happiness and make the world a better place!

I am happy to tag the following bloggers! 

No pressure, but imagine actually refusing to have fun!

I therefore pass the torch to:

Jo at My Wandering Mind

Sherry at Faith, Friends & Flip Flops

The Families newest Blogger, my Niece
Rachel at The Responsibility Catalyst

And the ever irascible Joe at Cranky Old Man

Be well folks, Hope you've had a great summer!!!

Beastly Bear

Catching up...

 Den of the Beastly Bear

Hello Folks!

Contrary to popular belief I have NOT, as may have been reported...

In fact dropped off the face of the earth.

Or as my mother would say "I'm not stinkin' yet!"

As I have been castigated by no small number of readers to "Get off your lazy ass and write a new blog", I shall endeavor to comply.

It has been a busy and event-filled couple of months since I last regaled you with my limited talents. Here's a brief update.

I finally have in my possession the Smith & Wesson revolver stolen from my Mother's boyfriend (who was more like a step-father to me) several years before his death. It's recovery and subsequent return took way longer than necessary, directly due to the now outgoing Chief of Waterford PD. I detailed the beginnings of this saga earlier in the life of this blog. Once we told them that we did not want it destroyed but, in fact, wanted it back that the games began. First we had to produce a copy of the will, "That should be enough". Then after a few weeks I called back, "Well, can we get a copy of the death certificate?", that was supplied. Now the Evidence Officer, Mike was a pleasure to deal with! It was the Chief making these demands. Next they wanted a copy of my Mother's Drivers license as she was the executor of the estate. Again weeks go by. Finally, Mike tells me that "The Chief would feel better if you filed the will in Probate Court, that way there'd be no way someone else could show up and lay claim to it."
"Well," I told him "we are not hiring a lawyer and filing in Probate, just to get back a thousand dollar revolver! It'd be cheaper to just go buy a new one...we're NOT doing that." 
"See if your Mom can get the lawyer that did the will to call the Chief and talk to him, maybe that will work.", it didn't.
So it was that I bided my time...and low and behold the Chief becomes embroiled in a political scandal such that he is placed on leave and eventually forced to retire. Awwwwwwww.
So I called Mike back up, it's been almost a year at this point since he initially contacted us. And asked him to run the whole thing by the acting Chief, and get his take. 

Long story short (I know, too late right?) two days later we had it back, and it's now registered in my name and has become my "go to" everyday carry gun. At 14 oz. loaded it is nearly a half pound lighter than my Kahr PM9.

Next adventure, after 20 some odd years I am once again a motorcyclist! I bought myself a used 2010 Triumph Rocket III!
Been wanting one of them since they were introduced in 2004, and finally made that happen. The fellow that had it before me took immaculate care of her and added all the extras I would have. 

She's 2300 cc's, sports 146 hp. and 163 ft. lbs. of torque...and even with my grizzled old butt on her, she moves right along!

I did have to make one change, the stock mirrors were woefully inadequate, and not very stylish so I had to change them out to these...

So a portion of my time and energies were devoted to finding, trying and buying those things I no longer had. Leather jacket, new helmet, gloves, and boots. Added a Blu Tooth com/entertainment system to my helmet so I can listen to music, books on tape, and take and make calls should I feel the need.

Next thing occupying my mind/time was some home improvements. For the last few years, we've wanted a couple trees removed and the trim on the house wrapped. After getting a quote from a guy Mama Bear used to know during her time working for a builder, we decided to get the siding and gutters replaced as well.

Before

Trees Down

I don't yet have final pictures yet. We also had the center two columns removed from the porch, which really opened it up.

The work was done and I was getting ready to take pictures when I got up one morning, hit the restroom, and as I was washing my hands I noticed the water pressure was really low.

"No problem," I thought. "I think they're flushing the fire hydrants this week, must be that."

As I went downstairs to let the dog out, I passed the door to the basement..."That's funny...the water softener shouldn't be running until 3 AM." But we'd lost power recently and I thought perhaps the timer was off and I'd have to reset it. When I walk back by the door, it didn't sound quite right so I opened it, looked down the stairs to see a couple inches of water, WHERE NO WATER SHOULD BE!!!

I flew down the stairs and saw there was a geyser of water coming from the water softener. I made my way to it as quickly as I could and tried to turn off the water, but my hands were wet and I couldn't get a grip. Putting a hand up to shield my face I noticed one of the couplers after the bypass had let loose. I yanked the bypass lever, and the geyser stopped.

Now I don't know about your basement, but our basement was FULL of almost 30 yrs. worth of accumulated crap, most in cardboard boxes. 

Sooooo, a 20 yd. roll-off dumpster, an industrial strength dehumidifier were procured and the clean-up began. 

Now, being allergic to mold and mildew...I was instantly in dire straights when we started cleaning up...well not instantly, I made it a whole day before my sinuses went ballistic and the asthma kicked in. Let me tell you, being a couple hundred pounds overweight and toting shit upstairs over and over is not helped by an inability to breathe. 

After all the wet and ruined was pitched, it seemed like as good a time as any to go through the detritus of our lives...

If we haven't seen it or used it in the last 2 years it got chucked.

This is not an easy, or a simple thing. It brought up many memories...some good, some not. It made us re-evaluate those treasures we just HAD to have that now sat forgotten in the basement.

Amid this madness, one of my FAVORITE authors was once again quasi-near us. I took a day off from my toils to drive down to Dayton, OH. Yes, it was Craig Johnson...

No Camaro this year and Mama Bear had to work so it was just me running down to listen to him give a talk, a reading from his new book and to get some signed. As usual he was warm and personable, greeting every reader like a long lost friend! A rare commodity among NYT Bestselling Authors. The only other author anything like that, in my experience, is George R.R. Martin. After the book signing, I headed to one of my favorite places for a burger (Hardee's Mushroom and Swiss thickburger, nothing else comes close!)

Once we had the basement behind us, I started on the garage.

At which time Mama Bear suggested that, perhaps, we should get rid of the 15-year-old half fridge and put a full sized one in the garage instead. This would just require removing some cabinets...

Finally, yesterday morning the dumpster was removed.

The majority of my inside work is complete, now I have to put my efforts towards removing the surface roots that were not included in the stump grinding. Then there is the trimming of the hedges, and the removal of some upstart little (well not so little anymore) elm tree that is attempting to kill my Rose of Sharon bushes...off with his head!!!

That about catches us up, gentle readers...all the news from the Den.

I realize my excuses for not writing are lame at best and hope that you will deem to forgive me.

Be Well Folks,

Beastly Bear

The Cereal Allegory...

 

Den of the Beastly Bear

Hi Folks!

Let's lighten up a little after those last 2 blogs.

Anybody else remember cereal variety packs from their childhood?
As one of three kids (sometimes 4 when my step sister stayed with us) we always found it hard to agree on which breakfast cereal we wanted.

My twin sisters were fond of the "Two against one, we win!" rule,
which I of course thought was complete crap!

This is where the variety pack would shine. Everybody could have what they wanted, and no-one "Won".

What was even better is you didn't need a bowl! That's right, any 5-year-old with a sharp knife and a spoon could eat right out of the box! And they were DESIGNED that way. They even had perforations showing you right where to cut. Hey, it was the 60's & 70's...don't judge!

As I got older and started dating and later married I developed a little thing I like to call "The Cereal Allegory". I try to impart this wisdom to men I meet that are thinking of getting married.

It goes something like this:

When you are dating, it's like you're eating from the variety pack.
You meet and date many different types of women.

Like "Rice Krispies". She's nice, interesting, but she just won't stop talking.

Or "Fruity Pebbles". She's colorful and sweet...almost too sweet and in the end lacks substance.


Then there's "All Bran". Kind of boring though you know she's good for you, you just need a little more excitement.

There's "Raisin Bran". "All Bran's" cousin...she's a little more put together, a little more hip drawing you in with her fancy clothes (Raisins). But in the end it's a soggy mess too.

"Frosted Flakes" may seem appealing. She starts out sweet, but underneath you realize she really IS a flake as she starts telling you about her first suicide attempt on your very first date. Yikes!

Then there's "Muesli". At first you get that really 'cool chick' vibe until you discover she's some new age hippie vegan that refuses to shave...

As a modern man of the world, you might even try "Coco Puffs"!

Eventually, you find what you believe to be the perfect breakfast cereal(woman), "Lucky Charms"!!!

Why is she perfect? Well, because she takes the boring every day(crappy oat cereal) and does special things(tasty marshmallows)
to make it all palatable.

What special things you may ask? Going to a movie she can't stand just because you want to see it. Surprise sex. Showing up at your place with a pizza, a six-pack, and a hummer because you've had a bad day at work. Those kinds of things.

So you say,"I'm In! That's it, I'm gonna sign a contract that I'm only gonna have "Lucky Charms" for the rest of my life!" And you Propose.

You get married and for a while everything is great, you slog through the crappy oat cereal because the tasty marshmallows make it all worth while!

But after a few years you start to notice there are more and more bits of crappy oat cereal and fewer and fewer tasty marshmallows.

Your single friends keep reminding you of the variety they are experiencing...how "Sugar Smacks" really likes that kind of thing and is all kinds of 50 Shades of Grey.

So you complain to management...

Management kindly reminds you that tasty marshmallows were not specified in your contract, and perhaps if you picked up your socks more often...

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" you reply. "Tasty marshmallows were certainly implied if not exactly specified."

At which point she smiles, reminds you that you are free to break your contract at any time. It'll just cost you half of everything you own.
Plus child support.
And alimony.
And half your retirement.

So you suck it up, pick up your socks and move on.

Still wanna get married?

Thus concludes The Cereal Allegory.

Now, I'm sure there is a female corollary to all this...

Something to do with cards and flowers, moonlit walks along the beach and probably portion size.

But I'm a man and can only speak of that which I know.

So, before the hate mail starts to arrive please note this is all in good fun and not meant to hurt anyone's feelings nor are the specific girls based on anyone living or dead! 
Well maybe...but I'm not saying!

Hope you all have a great weekend!

Be Well Folks!

Beastly Bear

What NOT to wear to school for Halloween...

Den of the Beastly Bear

Hi Folks!

As I have mentioned in previous blogs, back in the early 80's I had taken a job at my old High School as security/hall monitor.

Most of my adventures revolved around keeping the kids from smoking at the ends of the buildings, catching those skipping classes or smoking in the bathrooms. Pretty mundane stuff.

There were some more interesting events, told here and here. But aside from a few drug buys interrupted, fights stopped and girlfriends rescued from overly jealous hormonal boyfriends, my days were pretty dull.

Back then, Waterford Kettering was a pretty WASPish place. I think our ethnic diversity amounted to 3-4 African American kids, 1-2 Hispanic, and one Asian kid in a school of about 700. 

Drugs were just starting to infiltrate our suburban location, mostly pot...and booze.

The first thing I did every morning was to stand outside as the buses disgorged the kids. I made sure they all made it into the building and none wandered off.

At the beginning of the year, this was a nice way to start the day as the mornings were cool before the heat of the day. But as the year wore on it got downright cold.

A bright spot as it got colder was Halloween. In a time when schools still encouraged kids to be creative and dress up, it was entertaining to see what all the kids came up with.

Clowns were abundant, as were Hobos. Pirates were as popular as zombies... A couple more enterprising kids even dressed up as their favorite member of the band "Kiss".

As I said, it was a simpler time...
So as I stood and watched the nearest bus empty, a couple in love dressed as Raggedy Anne and Andy, a Princess Leia, Indiana Jones...
And a Member of the Klu Klux Klan....wait, A WHAT?!?!

Yes, it was true my eyes were not deceiving me... A bona fide Klansman dressed in full regalia, hood and all and carrying an aluminum baseball bat. 

When he saw me he tried to get into the school before I could intercept him. But students admiring each others costumes got in his way and I met him at the door.

I held up a hand to stop him.

"Off with the hood!" I told him.

"Why?" he asked defiantly.

"Because I told you to, and give me the bat while you're at it!"

"It's part of the costume," He grumbled as he handed it grip first to me and pulled the hood off.

I recognized him immediately, Hiram.
This kid had already made a name for himself that year, smoking, walking out of classes, fighting...
One of those kids who were under the impression that if he wanted to do it, we should just leave him alone and let him do it, no matter what "it" was. We had already locked horns a couple times, and the year was young. Because of suspensions, Hiram had almost missed as much of the school year as he'd attended.

"Hiram, what in the world is wrong with you? You can't wear this," I indicated his outfit, "as a costume in school. You've got to know that."

"It's NOT a costume...it's a uniform, and I wear it to meetings!" Hiram replied.

"You're kidding me, right? You're a member of the KKK?"

"Yeah," he answered defiantly "my whole family is!!! So what?!?"

"Well, you can't wear it in school, you're gonna have to change..."

"I can't," he said smugly. "I'm not wearing anything underneath it!"

"In that case we're going to have to go up to the office and have you call home, they can bring you up a change of clothes."

*Heavy sigh* "Whatever..."

So I walked him around to the front of the school and into the offices. Instead of walking him through the halls and giving him more of the attention he was after. As we entered the building, Hiram pulled his hood back on.

The secretaries gave a collective gasp as we walked through the doors... Which turned to nervous giggles, I walked him into the Assistant Principal's office and told him to sit down, indicating a chair. I plucked the hood from his head and tossed it into his lap as he sat and I explained the situation to Mr. Bennetts.

Mr. Howard Bennetts, our Assistant Principal was a kindly, bespectacled and Grandfatherly man. With a soft voice and an understanding nature. But even he "Tut-Tutted" when I explained why I had brought Hiram to the office.

For a moment, he studied Hiram through his thick lenses...heaved a long-suffering sigh before he spoke.

"And a weapon Hiram?" Mr. Bennetts asked shaking his head.

"It's part of the costume..." Hiram grumbled.

"I thought you said it was a uniform," I added.

"Why the Hell is he even still here?!?" Hiram pointed at me, voice raised a couple decibels in his annoyance.

"Enough of that now Hiram," Hiram collapsed back into himself in dejected fury "now give me your phone number so I don't have to look it up...I assume someone is home." the slight rise at the end of Mr. Bennetts sentence making the last a question. 

Hiram nodded in silence.

We waited and when it appeared he had no more to say, Mr. Bennetts cleared his throat and asked:

"The number?"

"Fine!" Hiram said and he ripped off the number in a quick staccato.
"You know my Dad works nights, and he's gonna be pissed. You waking him up for something so stupid."

"You let us worry about that Hiram." Bennetts calmly replied as he dialed the phone.

Hiram was right...his Father was NOT pleased. Mr. Bennetts explained that Hiram had worn an inappropriate Halloween costume and would be needing a change of clothes.
He did not mention what that costume happened to be.

20 minutes later a plus sized version of Hiram showed up with a paper bag of clothes and a lip full of tobacco. His face thunderclouds as he stomped into the office.

"Just what the Hell is the problem here?!?" He said addressing Mr. Bennetts.

"Well," Bennetts calmly started "He can't wear THAT in school." 
Indicating Hiram's attire.

Hiram's Dad turned and regarded his son a moment.

"Why the Hell not? It IS Halloween ain't it???"

"And he was carrying that." Bennetts pointed to the bat I still held, and lifted to show him.

"School policy clearly dictates that clothing or dress designed to disparage, intimidate or demean others will not be permitted."

"Unh-Huh," His Dad looked at Hiram "You plan to disparage, intimidate or uh...what was that other one?"

"demean" Bennetts offered.

"demean anybody?" His Dad asked.

"NO!" Hiram sullenly replied.

"Well, there ya have it...you can send him on to class then, he ain't hurtin' nobody!" Hiram's Dad said.

"Whether he intended it or not, he can not wear that in school. I hope you can see it from our perspective. We have students and their parents that would find this quite offensive and inflammatory!" 

"What he is wearing is part of his heritage! This is still America ain't it? Freedom of expression and all??? I don't have a problem with what he's wearing!!!" Hiram's Dad had swelled up with indignation and was working himself into quite a lather.

"I'll put this simply," Mr. Bennetts said calmly, hands flat on his desk "Either Hiram changes or you take him home, unexcused.
And the way his attendance has been he really can't afford that. The choice is yours."

Hiram's Dad glared at Mr. Bennetts for a minute then tossed the bag of clothes in Hiram's lap. Without even looking at him he rumbled:
"Go Change..."

As Hiram changed in the office restroom his Dad continued to fume but remained silent. When Hiram was done and had handed the bag back to his Dad, his Father turned to go.

"Could you take this home with you?" I asked extending the baseball bat grip first. He glared at me, then at Hiram and made no move to take the bat.

"You brought it with you, you can bring it home!" And with that, he stomped out.

I looked at Hiram, much deflated now in jeans and t-shirt, I told him:

"I'll hold onto this until the end of the day, you can get it from me before you board the bus."

Hiram nodded and Mr. Bennetts released him to class.

"Well, the apple certainly didn't fall far from THAT tree, did it? Thank you for staying, I had previously only dealt with the mother..." Mr. Bennetts said to me when Hiram was out of the offices.

"No problem, I admit to having been a little curious..." I confided.
"Now I know."

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, aside from the obligatory school rumors. Which depending on the one you believed either had me stopping Hiram from attacking a black student with a baseball bat to Hiram's Dad being the Grand Dragon of the local Klan and they'd be marching on the school in protest! Or variations thereof.

I went to Hiram's bus as the kids boarded for home. I saw them come and I saw them go...but Hiram didn't appear. I later learned that he had ditched after lunch... So I put his baseball bat into the break room I shared with the other security folks and custodians.
It sat there all year...

And when school let out for the summer, I took it home. It now rests in my garage, some 30 years later...I've never had the heart to throw it out.

It reminds me of a troubled young man, that I hope found some peace and understanding in his life.

I hope you all have peace in your lives.

Be Well Folks, 

Beastly Bear

Sometimes I wonder about People...

Den of the Beastly Bear

Hi Folks!

Sometimes I wonder about people...Ok, so MOST of the time I wonder about people.

When I was driving for Perry Drugs we had routes that were "bid" on by seniority that were guaranteed overtime, the rest of the week we rotated through "local" deliveries (those that didn't require an overnight stay).

There was this store manager down in Dearborn, everyone called her "The Nazi"! (Long before Seinfeld's Soup Nazi!)

5'1", Blonde hair pulled back in a severe bun with not a strand out of place and blue eyed. She was pretty, but ruined it with the "I'm short and a woman so I've got to be a colossal bitch so everyone will take me seriously!" attitude. 

The stories I had heard of her being "difficult" were legion, but I had never really had a problem with her.

I arrived one day to deliver her store, the third of four for me that day and when I arrived they were not ready for me just yet. I had run straight through, skipping my breaks and lunch in an effort to beat the heat of the day as much as possible. It was August, which in Michigan is often worse than July. Because they were not quite ready I walked out to the floor and bought a Coke and a $.25 bag of chips to tide me over.

I was in the back room waiting for the stock guys to get everything the way they wanted it, eating my chips and sipping my Coke when in she blew like a hurricane.

She started in on the stock guys for not being ready, then she whirled on me. Clapping her hands like she was rounding up hogs.

"Come on Driver, COME ON. You can eat chips on your own time, get your ASS IN GEAR, we've got a truck to unload!!!"

I finished my chips and tossed my bag in the trash, summoned up all the charming I could muster and asked her:

"Hey, are you married?"

All of a sudden she went from power-mad ubër Nazi to coquettish young girl, she kind of patted her bun and blushing said:

"Why yes, yes I am. Why do you ask?"

"Because I didn't marry you. And I don't live with you. And I don't have to sleep with you. So...I don't have to put up with your shit! You will treat me with respect and not clap at me like your little french poodle, or I will pull that truck down the street to the nearest restaurant and take BOTH my breaks and my lunch and you won't see me for an hour...we understand each other?"

She spat and sputtered a second with an "I never...You can't talk to me like that...I should call your boss..."

"Go ahead," I told her walking for the door "remember that you used profanity in speaking to me first, in front of these witnesses you've been treating so well...see ya in an hour!"

"Wait, WAIT!" she called after me. "I apologize, I shouldn't have started out that way...it was rude."

I stopped and told her "I'm sorry too...but I really hate being clapped at...I'll get the truck set up, OK?"

"OK"

And that was that, the one, and only time I had a problem with her.

I don't know why it was so common for Store managers to be disrespectful of their drivers, why they thought they were in charge.

I had to tell more than one that "We operate on the Navy principal here..."

"What's that?" They'd ask.

"See that door there?" I'd say pointing to their back door.
"Everything the other side of that door is your ship, and this..."
I'd say indicating my truck "this is my ship. Now the Captain of that ship doesn't tell the captain of THIS ship what to do..."

Sometimes their arrogance came back to bite them in the ass.

We had an AutoWorks store in Saginaw, the last stop of the route.

The auto parts stores got some pretty heavy stuff. We had these green plastic totes they shipped less than whole cases of things in.
These tubs were 28"X18"X18", filled with shock absorbers they easily topped 60 lbs. If they happened to have motorcycle batteries they could be even heavier. Now our trailers were 48 feet long and we had 45' of rollers. So by the time we got to the last store, the rollers were waist high at about a 30° angle and a 45 foot run to build up speed.

As a conscientious driver, I liked to warn the folks in the store if a box or tote was heavy. They couldn't tell just by watching me, as I did this all day every day and I was built for this.

So one day I arrived at the Saginaw store, set up my rollers and started sending their load down. The Store manager was a fella that made Davey Jones look muscular...5'4" and a buck twenty soaking wet, if that! So as I started getting to the heavier things (Light on top, heavy on the bottom) I called out my usual "Heavy!"

The Manager waited until the box made it down to him, then called up the rollers to me...

"Hey, we're not a bunch of women down here that you gotta tell us what's heavy and what's not...just send that shit down the roller and let us worry about what's heavy and what's not!!!"

Now I was just trying to be nice, but hey...if that's what he wanted.
Ooooooookay.
I aim to please.

So I continued to send down cases without speaking another word.
As I got to the bottom row, I picked up a green tote full of shock absorbers. I looked down the rollers to be sure the Manager was paying attention...he wasn't. He was talking to someone out of my limited field of vision and just had his hand up in a casual "Stop" position. I waited for him to finish his conversation, instead he waved for me to send it...
So I did.

I gave it no shove to help it along, none was needed...I merely let go. As the tote accelerated down the rollers, you could hear it gathering momentum in the pitch of the rollers whine. By the time it reached the bottom of the roller, I'd guess it was going 10 MPH.

The tote hit his hand.
His hand hit his shoulder.
He and the tote hit the ground and skidded to a stop 10 feet further in the store than where he started. 

He leapt to his feet, fighting mad!
"You Mother Fucker, you did that on purpose!!! You trying to kill me?!?"

I looked confused:
"Well, you're not a bunch of women down there...you don't need me to tell you what's heavy and what's not...I just send the shit down the rollers and let you worry about what's heavy and what's not. Maybe you should pay attention instead of talking to your buddy."

With a great deal of grumbling he resumed his position at the end of the rollers...

Moral of the story: When someone's being nice...
Don't be a dick!

Sometimes I just wonder about people...

Don't let people wonder about you...Lol!

Be Well Folks!

Beastly Bear