Remember OUR Childhood?

TO ALL THE KIDS WHO SURVIVED the 1930's, 40's, 50's, 60's and 70's!!

First, we survived being born to mothers who smoked while they were pregnant.

They took aspirin, ate blue cheese dressing, tuna from a can, and didn't get tested for diabetes.

Then after that trauma, we were put to sleep on our tummies in baby cribs covered with bright colored lead-based paints.

We had no childproof lids on medicine bottles, doors or cabinets and when we rode our bikes, we had no helmets, not to mention, the risks we took hitchhiking.

As infants & children, we would ride in cars with no car seats, booster seats, seat belts or air bags.

Riding in the back of a pick up on a warm day was always a special treat.

We drank water from the garden hose and NOT from a bottle.

We shared one soft drink with four friends, from one bottle and NO ONE actually died from this.

We ate cupcakes, white bread and real butter and drank Kool-aid made with sugar, but we weren't overweight because,
WE WERE ALWAYS OUTSIDE PLAYING!

We would leave home in the morning and play all day, as long as we were back when the streetlights came on.

No one was able to reach us all day. And we were O.K.

We would spend hours building our go-carts out of scraps and then ride down the hill, only to find out we forgot the brakes. After running into the bushes a few times, we learned to solve the problem.

We did not have Playstations, Nintendo's, X-boxes, no video games at all, no 150 channels on cable, no video movies or DVD's, no surround-sound or CD's, no cell phones, no personal computer! s, no Internet or chat rooms.......

WE HAD FRIENDS and we went outside and found them!
We fell out of trees, got cut, broke bones and teeth and there were no lawsuits from these accidents.

We ate worms and mud pies made from dirt, and the worms did not live in us forever.

We were given BB guns for our 10th birthdays, made up games with sticks and tennis balls and, although we were told it would happen, we did not put out very many eyes.

We rode bikes or walked to a friend's house and knocked on the door or rang the bell, or just walked in and talked to them!

Little League had tryouts and not everyone made the team. Those who didn't had to learn to deal with disappointment. Imagine that!!

The idea of a parent bailing us out if we broke the law was unheard of. They actually sided with the law!

These generations have produced some of the best risk-takers, problem solvers and inventors ever!

The past 50 years have been an explosion of innovation and new ideas.
We had freedom, failure, success and responsibility, and we learned HOW TO DEAL WITH IT ALL!

If YOU are one of them. CONGRATULATIONS!

You might want to share this with others who have had the blessing to grow up as kids, before the lawyers and the government regulated so much of our lives for our own good .
While you are at it, forward it to your kids so they will know how brave (and blessed) their parents were.

Kind of makes you want to run through the house with scissors, doesn't it?!

A working class dog in a rich man's house

(Or - Parts is parts. . .if you can find them)

Allow me to preface this post with a bit of personal history; I was always one of those "car guys". From the age of about 14 up until I hit my early 30's, I was always "tinkering" under the hood or perusing J.C.Whitney catalogs for the latest "cool as shit thing that I absolutely did NOT need but had to have" for my current transport or the one in the garage that I was "gonna finish restoring someday".

Sometime during the mid 90's this all changed. It was sudden, yet under my radar. Example? In 1992 I tore down the big-block 400 from my '67 Catalina ragtop and attempted to rebuild it (10.5-1 compression and 340 hp from the factory, bubba!) - By 1995, I was paying for oil changes. I'm still not sure what happened, although I know I used the excuse that "I can't even find the dipstick under the hood of these new cars" excuse. I think I just got lazy or busy with a career, lost my mechanical passions, or could afford to pay somebody to for things for me.

Up until a few short years ago, I still had my Cat in my garage at home as well as my Mom's '64 Sedan DeVille, and a a "spare for parts" for both in storage. The '67 Executive was sitting in Mom's back yard up in Warsaw, and the '64 Caddy was in a rented garage in the same block where my buddy Robert, of Left of Centrist, resides. My Mom died in 2001, after a life-long battle with various cancers, and I just didn't seem to care so much about the car stored at her place or the her old Caddy in my garage and it's "parts zombie".

My priorities had changed from "car guy" to "family guy" and I was overcome with a huge sense of "GET RID OF ALL OF YOUR SHIT AND MAKE A NEW START" syndrome. So I let go of all my cars, with the exception of my Cat. She was a ride that my Mom always referred to as "MY car", as we had bought her on Mom's birthday back in 1982. "Where are you going in MY car" she would always jokingly ask me.

Okay. . .I've been seriously digressing here! I still have my old ragtop, in storage, and I seldom even think about her. . .poor old girl. My original point of this post was to highlight just how difficult it is for one to do repair your own vehicle out here in "God's country", AKA Aboite. The lack of auto parts stores here in the "land of the have and have more" was not missed by me, yet it didn't really sink in until I found myself in need of parts just recently. With the exception of ONE Hire's Auto Parts store that's barely within the township, there are NO options for DIY'ers who live out here!

See, we know that alot of the chain outfits are out to milk us for as much as they can get, and have learned to look for alternatives. Just last year my wife needed brake service for her Montana; the local Midas outfit quoted her at over $500! Tires Express, another local outfit, went through the Midas estimate line for line and showed what was REALLY needed vs what Midas wanted to hose us for. They repaired her van for under $200.

Now, while I give these dudes credit for that encounter, they quoted us $325 to repair her rear brakes two weeks ago. I consulted my friend, Mark (brother of co-blog-author Stan) who is an ASE-certified mechanic, and he quoted me at $200 or less. I trust Mark, and would gladly pay him for his professional repairs (have done so in the past), but he was called out of town for a family emergency. So, faced with that news, I decided to put on my mechanic's hat once more, and replace the rear brake shoes and wheel cylinders on my wife's vehicle.

I spent less than $40, the repairs were successful, and apparently I still have a clue as to how to maintain a vehicle. Now. . .can Auto-Zone or one of the other national auto-parts suppliers establish shop out here so I can make my own repairs w/o driving to Waynedale?

Things we learn as we age

Age 5 - I've learned that our dog doesn't want to eat my broccoli either.
Age 7 - I've learned that when I wave to people in the country, they stop what they are doing and wave back.
Age 9 - I've learned that just when I get my room the way I like it, Mom makes me clean it up again.
Age 12 - I've learned that if you want to cheer yourself up, you should try cheering someone else up.
Age 14 - I've learned that although it's hard to admit it, I'm secretly glad my parents are strict with me.
Age 15 - I've learned that silent company is often more healing than words of advice.
Age 24 - I've learned that brushing my child's hair is one of life's great pleasures.
Age 26 - I've learned that wherever I go, the world's worst drivers have followed me there.
Age 29 - I've learned that if someone says something unkind about me, I must live so that no one will believe it.
Age 30 - I've learned that there are people who love you dearly but just don't know how to show it.
Age 42 - I've learned that you can make some one's day by simply sending them a little note.
Age 44 - I've learned that the greater a person's sense of guilt, the greater his or her need to cast blame on others.
Age 46 - I've learned that children and grandparents are natural allies.
Age 47 - I've learned that no matter what happens, or how bad it seems today, life does go on, and it will be better tomorrow.
Age 48 - I've learned that singing "Amazing Grace" can lift my spirits for hours.
Age 49 - I've learned that motel mattresses are better on the side away from the phone.
Age 50 - I've learned that you can tell a lot about a man by the way he handles these three things: a rainy day, lost luggage, and tangled Christmas tree lights.
Age 51 - I've learned that keeping a vegetable garden is worth a medicine cabinet full of pills.
Age 52 - I've learned that regardless of your relationship with your parents, you miss them terribly after they die.
Age 53 - I've learned that making a living is not the same thing as making a life.
Age 58 - I've learned that if you want to do something positive for your children, work to improve your marriage.
Age 61 - I've learned that life sometimes gives you a second chance.
Age 62 - I've learned that you shouldn't go through life with a catcher’s mitt on both hands. You need to be able to throw something back.
Age 64 - I've learned that if you pursue happiness, it will elude you. But if you focus on your family, the needs of others, your work, meeting new people, and doing the very best you can, happiness will find you.
Age 65 - I've learned that whenever I decide something with kindness, I usually make the right decision.
Age 66 - I've learned that everyone can use a prayer.
Age 72 - I've learned that even when I have pains, I don't have to be one.
Age 82 - I've learned that every day you should reach out and touch someone. People love that human touch-holding hands, a warm hug, or just a friendly pat on the back.
Age 90 - I've learned that I still have a lot to learn.
Age 92 - I've learned that you should pass this one on to someone you care about. Sometimes they just need a little something to make them smile.

Today's Life Lesson

There was a young woman who had been diagnosed with a terminal illness and had been given three months to live. So as she was getting her things "in order," she contacted her Pastor and had him come to her house to discuss certain aspects of her final wishes. She told him which songs she wanted sung at the service, what scriptures she would like read, and what outfit she wanted to be buried in. Everything was in order and the Pastor was preparing to leave when the young woman suddenly remembered something very important to her.

"There's one more thing," she said excitedly. "What's that?" came the Pastor's reply. "This is very important," the young woman continued. "I want to be buried with a fork in my right hand." The Pastor stood looking at the young woman, not knowing quite what to say. That surprises you, doesn't it?" the young woman asked. "Well, to be honest, I'm puzzled by the request," said the Pastor.

The young woman explained. "My grandmother once told me this story, and from that time on I have always tried to pass along its message to those I love and those who are in need of encouragement. In all my years of attending socials and dinners, I always remember that when the dishes of the main course were being cleared, someone would inevitably lean over and say, 'Keep your fork.' It was my favorite part because I knew that something better was coming...like velvety chocolate cake or deep-dish apple pie. Something wonderful, and with substance!' So, I just want people to see me there in that casket with a fork in my hand and I want them to wonder "What's with the fork?" Then I want you to tell them: "Keep your fork ..the best is yet to come."

The Pastor's eyes welled up with tears of joy as he hugged the young woman good-bye. He knew this would be one of the last times he would see her before her death. But he also knew that the young woman had a better grasp of heaven than he did. She had a better grasp of what heaven would be like than many people twice her age, with twice as much experience and knowledge. She KNEW that something better was coming.

At the funeral people were walking by the young woman's casket and they saw the cloak she was wearing and the fork placed in her right hand. Over and over, the Pastor heard the question, "What's with the fork?" And over and over he smiled. During his message, the Pastor told the people of the conversation he had with the young woman shortly before she died. He also told them about the fork and about what it symbolized to her. He told the people how he could not stop thinking about the fork and told them that they probably would not be able to stop thinking about it either. He was right. So the next time you reach down for your fork let it remind you, ever so gently, that the best is yet to come.

Friends are a very rare jewel, indeed. They make you smile and encourage you to succeed. They lend an ear, they share a word of praise, and they always want to open their hearts to us. Show your friends how much you care. Remember to always be there for them, even when you need them more. For you never know when it may be their time to "Keep your fork." Cherish the time you have, and the memories you share ... being friends with someone is not an opportunity but a sweet responsibility.