Family
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Protected: Answers beg questions
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Protected: The conversation continues
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Protected: A few emails
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They count people ya know
They just recently released census data for 1950. I went and looked, and here’s what I found: Charles F. Shriver, Jr., Head of household, White, Male, 44 years old, Married, born in Kansas, 50 hours per week as a Truck Driver, Oil field, Born of mother and father also born in USA, 10th grade was highest education, 42 weeks employed in prior year, in 1949 earned $2,500 (about $30,000 today) Winifred R. Shriver, Wife, White, Female, 43 years old, Married, born in Kansas, keeping house, no other employment Monte R. Shriver, Son, White, Male, 15 years old, never Married, born in Kansas, School boy Sandra S. Shriver, Daughter, Female, 11…
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Tolerance
As I sit and enjoy a nice red (any red will do) I’m overhearing a conversation. The table also regulars and today the debate has something to do with katsup or no katsup. In all honesty, that’s all I know…. But it reminds me of a debate long had between my Mom and Daddio. My Mom was a pretty good cook. Coming from the boy who ate nothing but peanut butter and jelly sandwiches till I was 11, that’s saying something. Anyway she made her homemade stew. Beef, vegetables and all that. Nothing out of a can. All hand cut and seasoned to perfection. Cooked on the stove for hours.…
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Dads, sons, and guns
Never was much of a gun guy. And neither was my Daddio. I know he had a few guns and growing up was able to see and know about all of them. He had a 22 revolver with a long barrel. Shot it a few times mainly at wood peckers that wanted to nest in our house. Probably knocked off more branches than woodpeckers. Just a kid knowing what a gun was and what it could do. He also had a snub nosed 38 revolver. Kept it on the top shelf back corner of his closet shelf. Yup I knew where it was. It was never loaded. The only time…
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Work and Family
It’s funny, I lost my dad almost 2 years ago, but as soon as I heard some news at work yesterday, I immediately thought of him. He was always the first person I called when big work news hit, and this news I felt the need to tell him. Our president is retiring. After 16 years, the last 5ish as president, he’s moving on to spend more time with his family. He’s sticking around till March, and his replacement has already been named. Dad always was asking about my job and life and everything. Whenever he saw a ad for my company in any magazine, he’d always bring it up……
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The names we know
I met another Scott today. Nothing unusual but we delved into flashbacks. He had a nickname I’d never heard…. Scotty Potty. Apparently given to him by is kindergarten teacher. Never heard that one. Beam me up Scotty. Both heard many dozens or hundreds of times. Great Scott! One of the fewer things called over the years. A former coworker called me Scotty once…. Not impressed at all. My response was a bit curt…. “There are three types of people that call me that.” I said with as stern a voice as I could. “Those I allow. Those I tolerate. And you are neither. It’s Scott.” She stfu immediately. Anyway…. nicknames.…
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The Boy In All Of Us
This was not an intentional photo, and I had even forgotten about it. It was taken by accident and just uploaded like 99% of all my horrible pics. Until I looked back. The original had my thumb in the way. I did not want to upload it as it was snapped, but you know me… I luvz me a good edit. Perhaps this is good, perhaps not. The boy I once was Adults gather, and drink and laugh With dad doing man things I sit, wanting to grow old The man I am now I sit, wanting to be young
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My Mother’s Hands
