Tag Archives: Family

Ump

It was a coach pitch All-Star tournament for 7 and 8 year old players. One of the grandsons was playing, so it was double fun!

But between mamas letting their little boys loose, daddies holding their tongues, and coaches reliving their Little League glory days, drama and emotion can quickly ooze into the games.  

It’s usually from the coaches and parents more than the kids.  Boys like the competition, but at that age, the biggest concern for most of them is what flavor of snow cone to get after the game. 

And the poor umpires? They often get blasted from both sides! This day was different though. This game had a short, stocky, 40-year veteran umpire.  

In the first inning, I heard him tell someone while rubbing his head that every gray hair he had was from umpiring.  He winked adding, “I was 6 feet 7 inches tall when I started umpiring, but I’ve been chewed on so much over the years, I’m only 5’ 7” now! “

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Must Be Quantum Physics

Saturday.

Work calls.

Never good.

Hurt employee.

Stuck finger where finger doesn’t go. 

Drive to work. 

No blood. No cut. No bruise. 

Young man.

He holds hurt fingertip tightly, only letting go to adjust the rubber band keeping his hair in a man bun.

Says, “Hurts really, really bad. Like on a one to ten scale, 10 bad.”

Load him up and start toward an urgent care clinic.

For five minutes he gives an instant replay, blow by blow, of how the injury happened.

When he finished I simply asked, “So, why did you put your finger there?”

“I don’t know.”

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Hallmark Holidays

It’s not right! Hallmark just makes up holidays to sell cards!

It’s like October 6. One one of my daughters posted on Facebook that it was National Transfer Money to Your Daughter Day.  Parents everywhere were requested to transfer money to their daughter’s account.

Psft!  That ain’t happening!  Not unless I go to the bank and got them each a nice, shiny new penny.

Besides, transferring money to your children has been around for years!!  It just goes by different names!  

It’s called child rearing, shoe buying, food, clothing, shelter, prom, cars, Happy Birthday, shoe buying, Merry Christmas, Easter, college, just because I love you day, and of course, shoe buying.

The last “official” day of National Transfer Money to Your Daughter Day is called probating the will.

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A Graceful Dance

It was a Daddy Daughter Dance.  Unfortunately for my son, he had to work out of town.  Fortunately for me, I was the second-string back up for Grace, who is 6 years old, and in first grade.

The school dance was for elementary girls, grades one through six, at our local university Grand Ballroom. My only concern was that it was from 6 to 9 PM.  Having two left feet and the coordination of a one-legged giraffe, how in the world could I fake dancing that long?!  In the end, it didn’t matter.

What did matter was that my granddaughter had a good time. She was dressed in a light blue dress covered with tulle. (For the ladies, aren’t you impressed I know what “tulle” is, and for us guys, it’s said “tool”, but not spelled that way, so it’s not a skirt covered in crescent wrenches like I thought.)

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Fever Dream

Some of the grandsons were staying with us this weekend and one of them came down with a 103-degree temperature.  It was the flu, type A. 

I hate fever!  It does strange things to me. Like a knife, fever brings an impending terror to my mind.  

I’ve had the exact same fever dream I’ve had since childhood. It resurrects itself, poking bony fingers up from the cemetery of good health to snag and pull at all sense of well-being. 

Fever brings a deep physical and emotional need to fall asleep, a relief really, instead of buried and shivering under mounds of blankets.

Yet once the eyes close and the mind drifts into never land, terror creeps out of the memory grave.

It’s the same.  Always, the same. 

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Chief Katura

The little boogers were back in the woods behind our house.   7, 8 and 9 year old grandsons would never admit it, but their expressions said they almost got lost. 

To implant a little raise the eyebrow caution in them, I whipped up a story of half-truth, half-lie, fabricated, made up, tall tale, umm, creative license story.

“Did y’all see any signs of Chief Katura in the woods?”

Like fishing for hungry perch with a worm, they snapped at the bait! 

 “Who’s that?”

“Chief Katura?”

I paused to look them in the eye for emphasis.

“Now, I’m not saying I believe it, but folks around here say Chief Katura was the bravest Caddo Indian to ever live! Even braver than Chief Nacogdoches, who the oldest town in Texas (where we live), is named after.  A lot of folks around here say the spirit of Chief Katura still roams these woods looking for his bow and arrow.”

They didn’t just take the bait.  They swallowed the hook! 

I robbed some local fore from ghost stories from the town I grew up in and went on.  

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Reprise

It’s tedious.  Removing calcium deposits from pool tile at the water line.

Our pool’s never been cleaned, so three tiles at the water line had to be scraped and scrubbed.

Doing a 20 by 40 foot pool with a hand scraper is like an ant sized dental hygienist cleaning your teeth.

A pumice stone polishes off the remnants, but that hard crusty stuff, it only comes off with scrapes, scratches and scrubs.

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Clear Skies

Alone.

Yet, not.

Large families.

There are 33 people on the wall. Kids, kids-of-heart, grandkids, Janet, myself.

There’s always something going on in a big family. Someone’s always around, nearby, or on the way.

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Junkyard Explosion

Once upon a time there was an explosion in a junkyard. 

It all started with increasing nitrogen gases expelled from overheating debris in the hot summer sun. 

It was epic! One of a kind! Never to be duplicated!

I can’t prove it, so just trust me, it was the PERFECT storm to create such a powerful explosion!

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Forty Years Ago

Someone posted our high school class picture from 40 years ago!

Forty. Years. Ago!

That’s how long Moses and the Israelites wandered in the wilderness!

A little over 300 of us, all in purple gowns, grabbed a diploma, walked across the stage, and waltzed into life. 

When we graduated 40 years ago — Ronald Reagan was fresh on the job, the space shuttle had just made its maiden voyage, a new disease called AIDS would be announced two weeks after graduation, and two months after that, IBM would introduce something called a “personal computer”.  

With the unbridled power of technology and social media, it’s been fun to “reconnect” with some I haven’t seen since graduation day.

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