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 – 2018

Archive for the tag “Family”

Life Happens On The Road

 

BACK TO TEXAS – FOR THE TIME BEING. We have been home for Thanksgiving, but we will be lining up for flights heading south again for Christmas.

Ho. Ho. Ho.

As anyone over the age of 12 can tell you, family trips are no vacation. That’s just a law of Nature. Not that I don’t enjoy seeing and being with the fine members of the family. It is that “grown-up matters are the primary function of such trips. Life.

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Throwback Thursday from Nov. 2015 – A Day For Thanksgiving

Throwback Thursday from Nov. 2015

A Day For Thanksgiving

Today is a day set aside for the giving of thanks. Thanks for all sorts of things.

For some of us those thanks are mighty and great, but for others they are small and personal. Both are equally valid.

Take this day to be with your friends and family.


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You Are Getting Sleepy

I CAN AND WILL CONTINUE TO SLEEP just about anywhere. I can sleep on airplanes. I can sleep on a crowded bus. I even fell asleep on stage one time. I’m good at sleeping.

As I write this we are down in Texas once again. Family business brings us to the Corpus Christi area for the fifth month in a row and Christmas will send us south once again. This means a lot of sleeping in strange beds and some strange sleeping.

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We’re Goin’ To The HEB

WE CONTINUE TO BE DEEP IN THE…no, it’s not the heart. We’re down further than that. …Deep in the Pancreas of Texas. The weather is pleasantly warm once again and, Thank God, pretty much mosquito free.

We are staying in the old family home which is right across the street from the “Bonecrusher Arena” – the football field of Sinton High School. There was a game there last Friday night. The hometown boys lost 54 – 0. “Bonecrusher Arena,” indeed. At least they are showing improvement. The week before they lost 60 – 0.

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The Choices Are Almost Endless, Unfortunately

WHENEVER I AM DRIVING AROUND TOWN lately I’m seeing something that makes me wonder a bit. Not a lot, just a bit. What I’m seeing are those stick figure decals on the rear windows of cars. In the beginning these decals or stickers were showing just your basic nuclear family: Mommy, Daddy, and a couple of kids.

It didn’t take long before someone added the family dog to the lineup. After that the floodgates were opened. More kids, Granny and Grandpa. If there had been a divorce the decal would show a space with a Vacancy sign.

I spent most of a quarter hour doing extensive research into this and about all I learned was that some people have incredibly bad taste.

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They Look Familiar. We Must Be Related

THERE ARE ONLY TWO TIMES when families get together en masse – weddings and funerals. Nobody got married this week. After the departed is laid to rest everyone gathers together and tells stories. They also try to figure out who are those little ones who have grown so tall since the last gathering.

There are always new babies to look at and questions asked about anyone who isn’t there. There is also someone trying to explain how and who is related to whom.

“Hiram over there is your third Cousin, twice removed, and married to Lulubelle who is actually the sister in-law to your Aunt Fedora Mae. Got it?”

“But who is that man sitting over there by the potato chips?”

“I don’t know. I thought he came with you.”

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I Didn’t Pack For This

GREETINGS, YET AGAIN, FROM TEXAS. South Texas where for the last two days it has been colder than it has been back in Terre Haute (That’s French for “Ay, Caramba, hace mucho frio!”) I did not plan on this. I did not pack for this. I do not like this. The solution is: Go to Wally World and buy a sweatshirt or twelve.

I also did not pack so as to be properly dressed for a funeral. An uncle passed away suddenly a couple of days ago so we have extended our stay. Considering that my suitcase has nothing but Levis and Hawaiian shirts a more extensive shopping foray is in order. Wally World just ain’t gonna cut it.

All I really need are a pair of decent slacks and a shirt that doesn’t have palm trees on it. That and doesn’t cost too much.

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A Rose By Any Other Nickname

I DROVE PAST MY NEIGHBORHOOD TACO BELL yesterday. I was glad to see that they are continuing to value their staff by naming another “Employee of the Month.” This month’s winner of the coveted “Golden Taco” is named “Ant.” That’s it. Just “Ant.” I’m going to go out on a limb and assume that “Ant” is a nickname.

“Ant,” Not “An Ant.” Thank Heavens; I’d hate to think that one of the ways to work there and be named “Employee of the Month” would be to have six legs. Although during a busy time at the restaurant that could be an asset.

Our Congratulations go out to Ant.

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A Reblog from “I Didn’t Have My Glasses On” – “a waking dream.”

A Reblog courtesy of:

I didn’t have my glasses on….

A trip through life with fingers crossed and eternal optimism.

 

a waking dream.

a waking dream.

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Refugee children have written a book of fairy tales and it's just awesome

 Refugee children have written a book of fairy tales and it’s just awesome. Travelling Tales features chickens fighting an alien invasion among its eight stories.

A collection of fairy tales written by child refugees in Greece has gone on sale to help those like the book’s authors.

Travelling Tales features a rugby-playing dog, a king who grew to love animals and chickens fighting an alien invasion among its eight stories.

The book is the brainchild of Brazilian journalist Debora de Pina Castiglione and her sister Beatriz. The two combined their love of words and illustrations to create the book but the ideas came directly from the children.

Debora ran workshops with Syrian and Kurdish children aged between four and 14 years old, at three refugee camps close to Thessaloniki in Vasilika, Lagadikia and Oreokastro.

Front cover of Travelling Tales

It gave the children something to do without focusing on their own lives.“The idea was not to have the children talk about their journeys or experiences fleeing war, at least not directly,” Debora said. “It was to let them tell the stories they wanted to, in ways they chose themselves.

“I think it’s important for young people to engage with one another. Children all over the world are watching the refugee situation, or hearing it on news programmes their parents watch and listen to, and as well as hoping it would be an interesting project for the children at the camps, I wanted to do something so the children outside of the crisis could see the children caught up in it on their own terms, as children with fun and interesting stories, just like they are.”

And there is something entirely captivating about the stories. In The Travelling Princess, Amira shuns her royal title to live as a poor person who goes around giving away gold she found as she explored the world.

In Aliens vs Chicken, Earth is under attack from extraterrestrials who want to steal all the chicken eggs in the world. While humans are relieved about the aliens’ demands, the chickens are not happy and fight back, reclaiming the eggs.

The story was written by nine-year-old Shahd who lives in the military camp of Lagadikia. Debora describes her stories as “full of adventure. Her creativity reminds us that there are heroes even where we least expect to find them.”

“We spent four months with the children,” Debora added. “In some cases, the children spoke English very well, and had quite clear ideas of their stories. In others, we worked with a translator, and also spent time with them to help them develop their ideas, to make the stories hold together better.

Illustration from Travelling Tales

“But the point was that these are the stories of the children, so we didn’t change their words, or add anything they did not include themselves.”

Five professional illustrators helped to bring the stories to life, including Beatriz.

The book was published last month and is available in English as well as Greek, Portuguese, Spanish, French, Italian, German and Dutch. It is for sale via Amazon priced at £10.

Money collected from the sale of the book will be used to help support projects that look for alternative housing solutions to the military camps.

“hope is a waking dream.”

-aristotle

credits: the irish news, Debora and Beatriz de Pina Castiglione, child refugees in greece

#teachers for refugees

A thousand Thanks to KSBeth for allowing me to share this with you.

Pass The Croutons 

WE, MEANING MYSELF, MY WIFE, THE LOVELY AND COLLECTIVELY WONDERFUL, DAWN, OUR EVER YOUTHFUL BOY, ALEX, and whichever of our friends will go with us, enjoy lunch together every Sunday.

Where we go to eat changes weekly. Some weeks we go out for pizza. The next week we might hit one of the 70,000 chain restaurants that have found a home in Terre Haute (That’s French for “What’s your soup today?”). You name a franchise eatery and it has a store here. Good, bad, or ugly, if they have a plastic menu they can make a buck feeding the residents of the Hautian Ocean.

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Swat! Slap! I Got Him! Aw, He Got Me.

MY SKIN LOOKS LIKE A CLOSE-UP OF THE SURFACE OF AN ORANGE. I am covered with mosquito bites. Why me, Oh Lord?

“Because you are a warm blooded creation that makes mosquitoes go ‘Yum,’ My son.”

Well, that explains it all. Thanks, God.

In the wake of Hurricane Harvey a Gazillion mosquito larvae erupted into the air, all looking for lunch and I must look like the buffet at the Golden Corral Restaurant.

Welcome to post-hurricane Texas.

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Look! Up In The Sky!

Sunday afternoon, 8/27, about 4:40 PM:

Blue Sky! I saw a patch of blue sky. It was about the size of a kindergarten classroom chair, but it was there for a few fleeting moments. It’s a good sign. Not as good as a dove with an olive branch I admit, but it’s still pretty good. I saw that bit of blue through the raindrops.

I saw this when we were on our way back after taking part in a frenzied shopping trip to the only big supermarket that is open between here and France. France – The one in Europe.

The market was wall to wall people, all looking for something they can eat and drink. The town where that market is located still has no power. The store had its own generators going from the get-go to keep everything edible. There were police officers at every door just to keep some semblance of order. If I wasn’t so tired and in need of a shower I might have given in to my urge to stand at the front door and yell, “Soylent Green! It’s people! Soylent Green is made from people!” Only folks over 40 would know what I was talking about, but even they wouldn’t care under the circumstances. It was marked down 40%.

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Hurricane!

Saturday morning – 8/26/17:

The wind and rain continues without let-up. Our cell phones are still connecting. Dawn’s brother who lives a couple of blocks away has measured 4.5 inches of rain. The storm continues to move onto land, but slowly. The folks at the other end of this county are getting hit the worst and they are very close to sea level.

What reports we can get are putting the winds peaking at about 132 mph. A nursing home directly in the path of the storm has collapsed. We learned later that one person died there.

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Hold On Tight

8/24/17:

Not Harvey, but his older brother

LESS THAN A MONTH AFTER RETURNING from Texas we are back in the Coastal Bend Country on the shores of the Gulf of Mexico. This time for a funeral…and just in time for Hurricane Harvey.

We landed at the Corpus Christi airport on Wednesday afternoon and the hurricane warnings went up on Thursday morning. Timing is everything, ain’t it?

This is my first hurricane. For my wife, the lovely and meteorologically experienced, Dawn, this is not her first rodeo. She whipped into action along with everyone else in the possible pathway of the storm.

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Do You Know The Muffin Man ?

THE TIMER IS COUNTING DOWN. Tension fills the air. The crowds are a-buzz with antici…….pation. I am on Muffin Watch.

It is Saturday morning at Gramma’s House. We have all had our tea so our hearts are once again beating.

My wife, the lovely and culinarily adept, Dawn, has put some muffins in the oven and handed me the responsibility of keeping watch on them. Everyone seems to be a bit nervous – no – they are scared. They are fearful that I will drop the ball on this and instead of hot steamy muffins dripping butter or jam we will have charcoal briquettes. I mean – really now! I am a college graduate.

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A Basket Of Brisket

WELL, HERE WE GO – OFF TO TEXAS! Surprisingly our flights were uneventful – which is what you want. Eventful airplane flights make the news and that is never a good thing. Things even went smoothly in our dealings with the TSA aerobic organisms. I think they were having an “On-The Job Slumber Party. They were just waving people through without even looking at them. I bet I could have walked through there toting a Howitzer and Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass. It always makes me feel so safe.

Once we got to our ultimate destination (Corpus Christi) we did what any sensible person would do – we stopped for lunch at Whataburger. It’s a tradition that goes back to the days of the Alamo and Davy Crockett I think. A Family thing, you know.

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I Am In The Upright And Locked Position

HERE WE GO AGAIN. We are barely home from our trip to Georgia and we are packing up for a visit with the family in Texas.

By the time this moves to the head of the queue we will probably be back in Terre Haute (That’s French for “We left the TV on.”). Such is the miracle of scheduling the posting of blog entries ahead of time.

There is a time difference to deal with when we go to Texas – it will be 1 PM in Indiana, but it will be High Noon in the Furnaces of Hell in South Texas. It gets HOT there in July. I like things on the warm side, but when we go to Texas in July I don’t feel like I’m sweating. It’s more like I’m being basted.

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Happy July 4th !

 

Today is the Fourth of July, the birthday of our nation.

 

 

It is a day to be spent with family and friends, so go do that and I’ll see you all tomorrow!

Be Thankful

A Treasure

YESTERDAY WAS JUNE THE 6TH AND I WROTE ABOUT D-DAY AND WORLD WAR TWO, but that date holds additional meaning for me.

June the 6th was also my mother’s birthday. It was and, in my heart and mind, always will be.

I’m an old man now and my parents passed away a long time ago. Both of them were born in 1911. Yesterday would have been my mother’s 106th birthday.

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It’s Not About Cats

MEMORIES? WHERE DO THEY GO TO HIDE? Why do they pop back into your conscious mind after a lifetime stored in the folds and wrinkles of your brain?

I had such a memory bob back to the surface the other day and, when it did, all of the details were as fresh as if it had just happened yesterday.

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