Monday, July 15, 2019

Uncle Hermie

Tim's Uncle Hermie has been gone for probably 4 years now. Still, during the family reunion, his name invariably comes up. He was the master of the outdoor brick oven and he taught Tim. So now Tim goes early to get the oven ready for the bread making for the family reunion.

I sat listening to Dave and Gene swapping Uncle Hermie stories and this one made me laugh:

Uncle Hermie was a pilot. He had a little airplane he flew all over the place from a little airport across the road from where his brother's farm with the brick oven still stands, now in the reliable hands of a younger generation of his bloodline.

Gene lived on that little farm and was Uncle Herman's nephew, the son of Herman's brother Harold. Now when Gene was young, he would play baseball with his friend across the road at the airport. They knew to get out of the way when a plane flew in. It wasn't anything fancy, just a mowed strip where a plane could land, just perfect for boys honing their baseball skills.

They heard a plane coming in and scooted out of the way. The plane landed and taxied right up to them. Two men got out, and the older one said, "Do you know Herman __________? Gene allowed that it was his uncle who lived about 8 miles away. In those days, getting there would have been a problem and not everyone had a phone.

The man asked them if they wanted to go for a ride before he left and they certainly did. They clambered aboard, and they flew, and Gene said that you could tell this man knew his stuff. He didn't razzle dazzle them with tricks like Uncle Hermie, but he was a darn good pilot. When they commented on this, he said that it was his nephew's plane and that his nephew (in the copilot's seat) was the one flying the plane.

As young as they were, they knew that this was not true. They could tell who was flying that plane.

After a nice ride, he brought them back to the landing strip, and dropped them off. "Don't forget!" he called out. "Tell Herman that Floyd W----------- came looking for him." He took off.

The next time that Gene saw his uncle, he told him that Floyd had flown in and gave him a ride. Uncle Herman looked incredulous. "Are you sure?" he wanted to know. "Because Floyd hasn't had a pilot's license since they put him in the mental hospital."

70 years later, we laughed ourselves silly over it.

I cannot remember whether it was his mother or his wife, but that woman did not like Floyd. He scared her. But Uncle Herman didn't mind him. They traveled all over the country in their little plane.

I miss that man.

Happiness

Very exciting news. Tim has had a truck that he's worked on, off and on (mostly off) for several years now. It was moved from our house in Scandia. It was moved from the house in Pleasant Township, and now it is moved to our house.

Today it runs.

He's a happy man.

We have 3 rehearsals left. I have studied hard, but during rehearsal tonight, I fumbled a line, an easy one, it struck me: "What in God's name was I thinking???!!"

I have no answer to that.

When this thing is done, I'll be a happy woman.






Baby Talk

Very curious about this:

I listened to some chatter today. The two women were talking in 'baby voices'. I was kind of surprised ~ I mean who DOES this? I've heard them talk before, and I guess that I wouldn't call this their normal voices. I listened, and kind of marveled at it, even as I thought that it might be something that could get annoying after a while.

I honestly don't think I've heard this before, but as the conversation grew to include more people, 3 other women began to respond in 'baby voices'.

Is this a 'thing' now?


Thursday, July 11, 2019

Work

Today, I was working in a different department. They have a huge number of fans, big industrial ones. They oscillate, but I had two of them blowing directly on my desk at regular intervals from opposite sides of my table. My hair was in my face, I was having trouble keeping my papers in place. I was freezing, having dressed in a teeshirt for my regular desk.

I asked and got a clip board for my papers and made up my mind to head directly to the car on first break and grab the light jacket I had on the back seat. Then I settled in to work.

About a half hour into things, a woman stood up and said, "Is anyone else cold? I'm FREEZING!" and I said I was. A half dozen people (out of probably 8 or 9) said they were cold.

At that point, the fecal material hit the rotary oscillator.

Two women who have a lot of years in the company and consider themselves part of the management team began to yell, and I do mean yell. They said that the fans could not be shut off.

The woman who brought the subject up said, "Listen, we're all cold, all of us..." and they said, "Then you should have dressed warmly. You can always put more clothes on. We cannot take them off."

I'm not from the department, and someday I'd like to work there, so figuring out the dynamics of the place interests me. I could have pointed out that I came to work that morning with no idea that I would be working in a different department, but I didn't. I aggravate people enough as it is, so I just kept quiet, kept on working and listening. It continued to get heated, and then some taunts were exchanged.

The woman who initiated the complaint turned her music up and said, "You know, I'm not even listening to you anymore. You're selfish. Most of the people here are cold, but you only care about yourself."

The two old timers complained back and forth for some time. "It's MY body. I'm HOT!" and "If they turn off the fans, I'm leaving early". etc. etc. etc.

They got no further argument from the music lady. She just listened to her music and ignored them.

That made them mad, and before long they were bellowing, "Turn down your radio!" and they followed it up with "You're not the only one working in this department!!!!"

Irony.

The opposite of wrinkly.


Monday, July 8, 2019

The Answer Comes

You know, I'm a person that feels like everything is my responsibility. No matter what it is, I feel like I have to fix it, make it right. Except in the real world, I can't. It doesn't come right, and there's not one goddamn thing that I can do to fix it.

It doesn't stop me from trying though. I guess that I've been tilting at windmills for all of my 62 years.  I've spent my life trying to make things right. I don't know why I'm like this but it has always been this way. I remember that awful sense of responsibility even as a very young child.

This past weekend, I ran smack up against something that shocked me wordless. I drove a couple hundred miles playing the thing over and over in my mind. What should I have done? What should I have said? I mean it's not a good situation and any fool with eyes can see it and this fool surely did.

What is my responsibility? What should I do? How can I fix it? The questions created quite a ruckus in my mind as I played various scenarios over and over in my mind.

And then it happened, For the first time in my 62 years of beating myself up looking for answers, I finally saw the answer to these questions clearly. 

Nothing.

There was a quietness in my mind as I pondered this answer.

I think that is exactly what I shall do.