Down the Hall on Your Left

This site is a blog about what has been coasting through my consciousness lately. The things I post will be reflections that I see of the world around me. You may not agree with me or like what I say. In either case – you’ll get over it and I can live with it if it makes you unhappy. Please feel free to leave comments if you wish . All postings are: copyright 2014 – 2021

Archive for the category “Parents”

Throwback Thursday From July 2016 – “When I Grow Up I Want To Be…”

Throwback Thursday From July 2016 –

When I Grow Up I Want To Be…

lid1WHEN WE WERE CHILDREN we all had fantasies about what we wanted to be when we “grew up.” I wanted to be a cowboy. Dawn wanted to be a Playwright – a rather precocious child. My brother wanted to be a baseball player. In one of my father’s high school yearbooks he listed that his career ambition was to become a “Traveling Silk Stocking Salesman.” I’m sure his mother was thrilled when she saw that. He ended up as a Roofer.

 

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Throwback Thursday From November 2015 – “Do We Need More Performance Art?”

Throwback Thursday From November 2015 – 

 

Do We Need More Performance Art?

I HAVE BEEN SURVEYING THE WORLD OF PERFORMANCE Aperformance art2RT.
It’s not hard to do –just look in your local newspaper for listings under “Live Entertainment and whenever you see something that boasts only one person doing the show, you’ve found it. But beware and tread carefully.

Most of the “Performance Art” solo performers that I’ve met over the years have been solo because nobody else in their right mind would get on a stage with them. Would YOU want to share the stage with a guy smearing ice cream all over his body? Not unless you brought the chocolate syrup and a spoon. But that would also call for a very low passable sense of culinary hygiene.

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We Are Not Amused

 

WE GOT OUR FIRST TOUCH OF WINTER TODAY. About ¾” of a slushy snow and ice fell overnight – and today our schools are closed. Today is a “Snow Day.”

Gimme a flippin’ break.

A “Snow Day?” It’s more like a “SnowFLAKE Day.”

The local Terre Haute (That’s French for, “Class Dismissed.”) School Board has a new person leading the charge and he is not under indictment unlike his immediate predecessor. This Newbie is from out of town and seems to be somewhat Snow-a-phobic.

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What Do You Want To Be When You Grow Up?

NOT LONG AGO I WAS CHATTING with one of the younger members of the family. She is in the sixth grade and turning into an interesting human being. She is past that Baby stage and is thinking about her future.

I asked her if she had given any thought to what she would like to be when she grows up. She answered me. 

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I Think I’ll Take A Nap

 

THE PAST FEW WEEKS HAVE BEEN TRULY EXHAUSTING.

  1. Traveling – Which always takes it out of me.
  2. Funerals – Never a fun occasion.
  3. Hurricanes – We are all in overload on that topic.

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Fiction Saturday Chapter 25 – And Pull The Hole… Continued

Fiction Saturday 

Chapter Twenty-Five

 

pull-airplane“I hate this.  I can’t hear a damn thing.”

Inside the crowded cabin, the roar of the jet engines was only a constant vibration to him.  No sound was getting through.  He always flew stone deaf.  It would take two days for his full hearing to return.

“I know, Dominic,” said Peeto.  “Happens every time you fly.”

“Happens every time I fly.”  Dominic pinched his nose and blew, trying to open his blocked ears.

“I tell you, Peeto, I hate to fly.  I really hate it.” The blowing did no good.

“Yeah, it always messes up your hearing,” nodded Peeto.

“It always messes up my hearing, y’know?”  He stuffed five sticks of gum into his mouth.

It was a little more than an hour into the flight from Newark to LAX and the flight attendants had already started dealing out the prepackaged, precooked, and pre-ruined meals to the passengers.  It was a ritual known to the attendants as “slopping the hogs.” Somehow, that part never got into their ads.

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Fiction Saturday – “And Pull The Hole In After You” – Continued

Fiction Saturday –  Continued

Chapter Twenty

 

pull-church“Happy Communion to you.  Happy Communion, Dear Beverly.  Happy Communion to you.”

She had loved the party celebrating her First Holy Communion.  She loved the white dress that looked so much like a small wedding dress as she walked down the aisle at St. Rocco’s Church.  She felt like she was getting married to Jesus.  It was a little Catholic girl’s dream.  It was a holy day for the family.

In the family room, the kids gathered about the table that was piled high with gifts. Wrapping paper with pictures of horses and bright ribbon were everywhere.  Twelve little girls and boys were dressed in their best.  The boys wore suits and several of the other girls wore their First Communion dresses.  The mothers in the room were beaming.

Twelve boys and girls, all of whom were the children of her father’s friends.  Family was Family.  Outsiders were never allowed inside, even if that outsider was a seven-year-old classmate and lived across the street.

On a side table sat a twelve-hundred dollar crystal punch bowl filled with a bright red lake of Hawaiian Punch.

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It All Depends On…

time1IS LIFE A SERIES OF EVERCHANGING ILLUSIONS? Can we ever be certain that things are as we perceive them to be? I’m not all that sure, Buckaroos.

When I was a kid, when dinosaurs still roamed the Earth, Time seemed to move much slower than it does now. Back then the span of time from Monday until Friday seemed to take forever. Each school day stretched out endlessly.

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I’m Only Here For The Cake

wedding1I WENT TO A WEDDING LAST SATURDAY. A lovely couple, a lovely setting, and everyone wondering who in the hell I was and what I was doing there. The answer to that question was that I was the Rev. Dawn’s Roadie, Security, Driver, and – oh, yeah – her husband.

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When I Grow Up I Want To Be…

lid1WHEN WE WERE CHILDREN we all had fantasies about what we wanted to be when we “grew up.” I wanted to be a cowboy. Dawn wanted to be a Playwright – a rather precocious child. My brother wanted to be a baseball player. In one of my father’s high school yearbooks he listed that his career ambition was to become a “Traveling Silk Stocking Salesman.” I’m sure his mother was thrilled when she saw that. He ended up as a Roofer.

Read more…

If I Had A Pony

Dublin3SOME WINDOWS ARE BETTER THAN OTHERS. There are some windows where I can’t wait to close the drapes so I don’t have to see what’s on the other side of the glass.

I’ve stayed in places where the view outside the window was a brick wall or another window looking back at me. Those are the windows that get the drapes closed immediately.

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Throwback Thursday from 2/5/2015

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I Got Your Measles Right Here

Measles-Quarantine-Sign

Boy, there is a real hoo-haw going on about whether or not kids should be immunized against a number of diseases.

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What Can A Person Say?

Noir Sax PlayerSOME DAYS THERE’S NOTHING GOOD YOU CAN SAY.

We were in Texas for Christmas and New Year and less than three weeks later we were back. This time it was not for a celebration or holiday. This time it was for a funeral.

A phone call on a Saturday with the news that a niece had passed away – very suddenly and unexpected. And on Monday we start on our way back to Texas.

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Do We Need More Performance Art?

I HAVE BEEN SURVEYING THE WORLD OF PERFORMANCE Aperformance art2RT.
It’s not hard to do –just look in your local newspaper for listings under “Live Entertainment and whenever you see something that boasts only one person doing the show, you’ve found it. But beware and tread carefully.

Read more…

My Barista, My Hero

YESTERDAY AS I WAS GETTING SOME TEA at St. Arbucks I was told an interesting and true story.elder abuse

Don’t expect a lot of laughs today.

My Barista said that something upsetting had happened to her the evening before.

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My Fathers Day

john mom and dad

THE FATHERS DAY Holiday, Celebration, Acknowledgement is hard upon us.

On days like that I really don’t think much about my role as a father. I picked up the honorific in midstream, becoming a “Step-Dad” at the age of 56. I don’t think about my role because it is an evolving thing, changing from day to day – sometimes hour to hour.

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