Author: ICRTD

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Life With Lilly Episode 5 #LillyNO Visits The Coffeehouse

I’m sitting here at my semi-local coffeehouse this morning, trying to compose some thoughts on a variety of things, and I decided to take a break from that to tell you this.

Coffeehouses in general, and this one in particular (since this is the one where you’ll find me) are apparently, and I know I’ve written about this before, magnets for random characters.  For instance, here this morning I’ve seen; what I can only describe as David Lee Roth in drag sipping on coffee and working a crossword puzzle, any number of college students working on, I’m sure, a wide variety of assignments, what I believe to be one of the local homeless highlighting (and by highlighting I mean, underlining verse after verse after verse with a black pen) passages in an extremely well-worn Bible, a couple of collections of local business types holding some sort of impromptu meeting (probably in violation of the Open Meetings Act) and, of course a lovely selection of hipster types.  Hey, I’ve got no problem whatsoever with eclecticism, heck it makes for great fodder for those of us that like to write about random things, you know?

This shop is also, what you call “pet friendly” according to their website and I have, in fact, seen people here with their dogs.  So, of course, yesterday morning, I brought #LillyNO up here for her maiden voyage.  She did great.  Was her usual, charming self, and very well-behaved.  She was a little skittish when we first walked in, but quickly calmed herself once people started paying attention to her.  Tail wagging and belly rubbing ensued in a very short time-frame and she only needed to be reminded not to jump up a couple of times.  I enjoyed a lovely latte while she laid at my feet, eagerly (Oh please, oh please pay attention to meeeeee people!) awaiting someone, anyone, to make eye contact with her, at which point she would get up, thrash the air with her tail, and seek ear scratches and praise from her new adorers.  I think her tail is a little blurry in this picture, and it’s because she just noticed someone coming over to say hello to her.

We then took a little walk around downtown Greensboro, which she seemed to enjoy just as much as she did Nashville, even though there was nowhere near as much in the way of discarded food scraps on the sidewalks here.  Not too many people around on a Sunday morning here either, so with less socialization going on the walk went pretty quickly.  The only issue came when she got freaked out by an overzealous dog inside a parked car.  He or she was not particularly happy to see us judging by the forcefulness of the barking.  #LillyNO tucked in behind my legs while we waited for the walk light to change so we could move on and she quickly forgot about the foul language the dog threw her way.  So yes, I think there will be more trips to the coffeehouse for #LillyNO in the future.  For now, when I try to write, I’ll leave her home.  But when I can focus on her behavior, she’ll be a more frequent visitor, no doubt.

Imma keep this one short today, I have errands to tend to back home.  I’m not sure if I’ll get anything out before the holiday so I’ll leave you  with these thoughts  I’m thankful for each and every one of you that takes some time out of your day to look at this stuff.  You rock.  And, lastly, despite where we are as a country and as human beings, we have much for which to be thankful.  If you’re reading this, there’s a really good chance you’ve got a roof over your head and a place to rest your head each night.  Far too many of our brothers and sisters on this planet can’t say the same thing.  So appreciate what you have, and recognize the thin line between what society sees as normalcy and utter chaos.

Peace

PS- etc. etc. As proof it’s time for me to go, a grown-ass man just walked in here in his jammies.  I shit you not.  I’m out.

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Music, Music, Music!

As I sit here, at the counter of my semi-local coffeehouse, and I feel safe in calling it “my” coffeehouse, since two of the baristas christened me yesterday as a regular (win!), I’ve got Hendrix “Voodoo Child” searing through my brain and it makes me think the I HAVEN’T BEEN TO SEE ANY LIVE MUSIC IN EIGHT DAYS!!!  Ok, maybe that’s a wee bit over the top, all caps and everything, you know?  Still, this has been, and continues to be, one of the more stellar stretches of concert-going I’ve had, like, ever.  It started at the end of October with a trip to Nashville after my niece’s wedding (there may be more about that later.  We’ll see) back in (I haven’t approached the topic with them, and may just leave it be anyway) Illinois.  I saw Jason Isbell at the Ryman Auditorium with my friend Tom.  I’ve seen Isbell a bunch in the last few years, maybe five times, and while I think he’s one of the most talented artists performing today, I hadn’t planned on seeing him again.  But the chance to see him at a historical venue like the Ryman convinced me one more show wouldn’t hurt.

He didn’t disappoint.

I think it was his best performance out of the ones I’ve seen in person.  Just incredible.  The crowd (minus the doofus I wrote about last week that was watching a hockey game) was really into it and that always helps.  He ended the show with a cover of “Little Wing” by the aforementioned Jimi Hendrix and it was spot on, yet also carried enough of his style that you knew who was playing it.  That doesn’t really make any sense to me as I re-read it so hopefully you get what I meant.  And that, boys and girls, is why I’ll never be a music critic…

My next show is coming up a week from tonight when I travel to Raleigh *Andy Griffith voice* to see Manchester Orchestra.  I’d never heard of them before the trip to the Ryman but saw them on the coming attractions list.  Tom suggested I check them out, he thought I’d like them.  Jesus was he ever right.  I’m so pumped for this show.  If you’ve never listened to Manchester Orchestra, please do.  You’ll thank me.  After that, I’m going back to Saxapahaw, (not a typo, that’s really how it’s spelled) about an hour from me, to see Richard Thompson.  I’ve been a fan for literally 35 years and I’ve seen him twice, both times he was acoustic.  This time he’s playing electric and he’s got a band backing him so I’m pumped for that too.  Plus, I really like the venue, this will be my third (fourth?) time there since I’ve relocated.  The next night I’ve got a ticket for Mike Cooley (Drive-By Truckers) in Durham and I wrap up my concert season (I think) a week later when I go to Charlotte to see Patterson Hood (also Drive-By Truckers).  I should probably scroll back through my calendar and see how many shows I’ve been able to go to this year, it’s been a pretty outstanding year from that perspective.  I think I’d rather not though.  Sometimes the not knowing is better than the knowing, you know?  Besides, I’m fairly confident I got over a dozen under my belt this year, and that’s kind of my unofficial goal.  So, if I’m in that neighborhood, I’m good with it.

Alright, I think I’ve taken enough of everyone’s time.  All twelve of you.  I’m off to check out an estate sale and then back to hang with #LillyNO for the afternoon.  It’s sunny again here today, first time I’ve needed sunglasses in a week, but it’s cold in the mid 40’s.  We may find a walk downtown in our future.

Oh, one last thing…  I keep my pocket change in a small bucket.  My pockets get emptied into it every night and when it’s filled I take it to the bank.  I’ve been doing this for a few years now and I usually end up with a couple hundo when it’s full.  Well, it’s full.  I took it to the bank this morning to get it counted and the teller told me they don’t do that anymore unless it was rolled.  Whatever.  I didn’t say anything because I know she’s not the one that made that policy.  But what exactly does the bank do with rolls of coin?  Do they take my word for it that what I say is a full roll is, in fact, full?  I’m fairly certain they’re going to unroll it and count it, right?  I mean that’s just logical to me.  So why not eliminate the rolling part and just take my loose coins?  grumble, grumble, grumble.

Peace

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Veterans Day

If you know me In Real Life, you probably know that I’m not good with statistics.  My mind typically doesn’t process and/or relay that manner of information very efficiently.  Due to my understanding of how my brain works, I almost never speak or write about facts and figures.  It’s far easier for me to relate things from my emotional center than from my logic-driven center.  I’m going to break from that today.  I’m also going to rely heavily on cutting and pasting because I want to get these numbers, facts, and related information correct.  The reason for that is due to another rare occurrence around here; I’m posting on a serious topic.  Today is Veterans Day (the actual day, though it is being observed tomorrow) and in my humble opinion, as well as the opinion of many, many others, the way our veterans are treated is an abomination.  Like, how can many of our elected officials, past and present, look in the mirror knowing they’ve asked these men and women to sacrifice everything, often for not a goddamn thing?

So here’s a batch of facts from Green Doors dot org –

  • The number of homeless female veterans is on the rise: in 2006, there were 150 homeless female veterans of the Iraq and Afghanistan wars; in 2011, there were 1,700. That same year, 18% of homeless veterans assisted by the VA were women. Comparison studies conducted by HUD show that female veterans are two to three times more likely to be homeless than any other group in the US adult population.
  • Veterans between the ages of 18 and 30 are twice as likely as adults in the general population to be homeless, and the risk of homelessness increases significantly among young veterans who are poor.
  • Roughly 56% of all homeless veterans are African-American or Hispanic, despite only accounting for 12.8% and 15.4% of the U.S. population respectively.
  • About 53% of individual homeless veterans have disabilities, compared with 41%of homeless non-veteran individuals.
  • Half suffer from mental illness; two-thirds suffer from substance abuse problems; and many from dual diagnosis (which is defined as a person struggling with both mental illness and a substance abuse problem).
  • Homeless veterans tend to experience homelessness longer than their non-veteran peers: Veterans spend an average of nearly six years homeless, compared to four years reported among non-veterans.

Now, granted these numbers are from 2011, but I assure you this situation has not improved.  Here’s some more current info from a site called Military Wallet dot com  –

  • 89% received an honorable discharge.
  • 67% served 3 years or more.
  • 47% are Vietnam veterans
  • 15% served before Vietnam
  • 5.5% are Iraq and Afghanistan veterans.

You may also be aware that veteran suicide rates are significantly higher than those of the general population.  Again, that’s troubling, and points to a greater need for care than we’ve been providing.  This, from Military Times dot com notes some of the rates, including recent changes –

In 2016, the most recent data available, the suicide rate for veterans was 1.5 times greater than for Americans who never served in the military. About 20 veterans a day across the country take their own lives, and veterans accounted for 14 percent of all adult suicide deaths in the U.S. in 2016, even though only 8 percent of the country’s population has served in the military.

I probably shouldn’t have read these stats at the coffeehouse, because it almost brought tears to my eyes.  This information is ridiculously easy to look up.  But nothing seems to change.  I’ve got a theory or two about the root cause, but I’m not going to politicize an issue like this one.  I promise you I don’t have any answers, other than reaching out to your elected officials and screaming at them to act like a human being and take care of these veterans.  Actually the screaming part is probably not a good idea.  But the reaching out to them part is.  So clicking on this link will take you to USA dot GOV and a page that will refer you to your legislators in both the House and the Senate.  I’m trying to make this as easy as I can for all of us to do something.

Lastly, if talking to a wall is not something you’re prepared to do, I’ve included some links to non-profit organizations that specialize in veteran specific issues.  I encourage you to vet them as carefully as you like, I just took a cursory glance, and if none of these strikes your fancy, it’s just as easy to find organizations charged with caring for veterans as it is to find veteran-specific statistics.

And if you choose to both tell a politician to do the right thing and also assist a vets group, good on you.

Give An Hour  works to match military and veterans struggling with mental health and well-being with volunteer health professionals that can help them recover. The nonprofit has provided 210,000 hours of service with over 858 active volunteers and 390 partner organizations.

Midwest Shelter for Homeless Veterans  is a non-profit agency that provides housing, supportive services and community outreach to help homeless and at-risk veterans and their families achieve self-sufficiency.

Fisher House Foundation  builds comfort homes where military & veterans families can stay free of charge, while a loved one is in the hospital.

Semper Fi Fund  serves all branches of the military, Semper Fi Fund provides emergency financial assistance to post 9/11 vets who are wounded, critically ill, or were injured during their service. The nonprofit also provides support for vets and their families to provide a smooth transition back into their communities.

Our homeless population should be a point of shame for every elected official in the country.  Period.  End of statement.  Now add in the fact that so many of them are also veterans.

We need to fix this.

Peace

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More From The Live Music File

A quick bit of housekeeping before I get to today’s missive…

Five of you are truly wonderful human beings, thanks so much for clicking on the “SUBSCRIBE” button after my plea last time out here.  I truly appreciate each of you, more now than ever.  For the rest of you; if you’re on a computer look over this way⇒⇒⇒⇒⇒  If you’re on your mobile device, look here⇓ ⇓ ⇓ ⇓ ⇓

Now then, I went to a concert last night, a bluegrass band up at the High Point Theater in, not coincidentally, High Point.  It was a good show.  A fine show.  Fine.  I’m still trying to decide if the band or the venue was responsible for repressing the vibe, but it just felt, I don’t know, off, last night.  I’m leaning toward the venue though.  I think it would be a great place to see a play or a musical, but it just didn’t feel right for a concert.  Actually, let’s back up here for a bit.  C’mon, I’ll lead the way backwards.

For starters, I think the seating was designed by a sherpa.  I mean, great sight lines, but the ramp down to the seats felt like I was falling forward.  On the way back up the aisle, I was wishing I’d had a tow rope to make the climb.  For you White Sox fans, imagine the upper deck at about 43º steeper grade.  With no stairs.  But the seats were comfy, so I guess that counts for something.  I get the feeling this place doesn’t get a tremendous amount of concerts.  The guy that emcee’d the band onto the stage made a couple obligatory comments about upcoming events there, including (perhaps you should sit down before continuing) a Journey cover band!!!  And I said to myself, “Self” I said “I wouldn’t walk from my kitchen into my dining room to see Journey, I can’t imagine the chain of events that would end with me going to see a Journey cover band.”.  And I had to agree with myself, because I brought up a really good point.

Moving right along; I was comparatively underdressed, by like, a lot, last night.  Sport coats?  Sweater vests?  Really people?  I went back outside and double checked, there was, in fact, no red carpet.  And no other rock show t-shirts in the crowd.  And only a couple of flannel shirts, so.  Granted this was my first bluegrass show since I saw the great Chuck Bilskey at a bar in Elgin back in the day, but in my blue jeans and Los Lobos t-shirt I felt like I couldn’t have been more out-of-place if I’d been wearing Scandinavian Death Metal garb to an art show.  That’s a thing, right?  Seriously, I don’t know.  Scandinavian Death Metal.  It sounds like it should be a thing.

Speaking of wardrobe, this reminded me of something I saw at the Isbell concert in Nashville a few weeks back and I’m more than a little disappointed in myself for forgetting to mention it then (see my last post.  Insert eye-roll emoji anywhere you like).  Dude next to Tom was watching the Predators (Nashville’s hockey team for you non-hockeyers) game on his phone.  For real.  The whole game.  Oh, he was also wearing his Preds jersey, because of course he was.  Now, don’t get me wrong, if we’re talking Game 7 of the Stanley Cup Finals, I could entertain the argument.  This was, like, the 8th or 9th game of the season.  W. T. F. dude.  I really wanted to know what was going through the mind of his significant other, seated on the other side of him from us.  On soooo many levels.  Look, I love sports as much as the next person, and I recognize the challenges inherent in any interpersonal relationship.  But at some point there’s got to be a bit of negotiation going on, right?  And if that’s the successful conclusion of said negotiation, I really want to know how that all went down.  Ok, I couldn’t take the suspense anymore so I GTS’d Scandinavian Death metal and found this.  So, we’ve learned something today, haven’t we?

Oh yeah, this was allegedly about live music, wasn’t it?  Uhhhh, let’s see… Kate Rhudy, Lula Wiles, and Chandler Holt were the openers for Mipso.  All pretty bluegrassy, all pretty talented, all intermingling with each other over the course of the evening vs. a traditional opener/headliner kind of thing.  I would probably go see most of them (I wasn’t thrilled with the banjo guy, but that’s a “me” issue more than a stone thrown at him) again, but it would have to be in a different venue no doubt.

Circling back to where I kinda started this thing, I regularly check the analytics that come with this program and apparently the other night some random person in Canada viewed the shit outta this site.  So, Mr. or Ms. Canadian person, thanks, I think?  I mean without getting stereotypical, Canadians are supposed to be among the most polite people as a whole on the planet, right?  So you read 80% of my posts because you were enthralled with my literary prowess, right?  Not tryna find a back door into my banking shit or anything of that nature?  Also, Mr. or Ms. Canadian person, if you’re, like, a literary agent or some such thing, yes, I would in fact be interested in talking to you.

Peace

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Strange Bedfellows

Ahem.

*Takes careful aim, steps squarely on a sensitive anatomical part*

Sorry for the visual, but you were just taken back a few hours to my morning.  I was getting ready to get in the shower and a couple of streams of thought started coursing through my brain.  Now, the logical thing to do would have been for me to reach approximately 3.4 feet to my right, pick up my phone and write a note to myself, documenting my thoughts, so that when I sat down at the keyboard I could refresh my memory and take off on a really stellar production for you fine people.  I, however, chose not to do that.  So you’re left with whatever post-election detritus is bouncing between synapses.  My bad.

So, let’s start with this.  I was kinda watching the election results, both here, back home, and nationally.  I don’t know if “both” is being used correctly there, btw.  It feels to me like it should only be used for two items and not more than that.  But I’m sticking with it, so obvs I’m not that bothered by it.  Anyway, I was glad to see most of the results back home.  A little disappointed the State Rep that covers a large portion of DG lost.  True, he’s a Republican (pro-tip, I’m not) but he has proven himself in a very short time to be a huge supporter of ours (the fire service) and I know the guys from Local 3234 were out working on his behalf.  Yes, I’m a Democrat and I typically want Dems to win, but David had our backs and I’m sorry to see him go.  That is a regular post-election occurrence though, for the politically active.  New contacts must be made, newfound respect must be earned, and groundwork must be laid for the future of the working relationship.  I know the guys from 3234 are up to that task, they recognize the value in it.  Continuing the theme, many of the races from my old home county went south for my side.  I think the Dems picked up a couple of seats on the County Board, which is huge, but I was sorry to see a friend of mine, a guy I met through the party up there, and one I have mad respect for, was narrowly beaten out.  Keep fighting the good fight Carlos.  Also, another friend lost on her State Senate race.  Same thing for you Mary, I have crazy respect for what you do, please don’t stop fighting.

Meanwhile, here in central North Carolina, the Blue Wave crashed headlong into a Red brick wall.  I haven’t seen the results from the county races yet, but based on the state and national races, as well as some referenda, things don’t even look purple, you know?  Ok, I just GTS’d and confirmed my hunch, my county continues to be hard Red.  That’s ok, no regerts (not a typo, just a subtle attempt at humor) here.  Besides, I knew pretty much what I was getting into when I chose this area.  Following the old axiom “Be the change you want to see” may well be me moving forward.

In other news; the Heir To The Throne voted for the first time ever, and on his first eligible election no less!  So, yeah, I’m pretty proud of him for that.  He’s doing better than I did.  I missed voting for Jimmy Carter by less than a week.  Well, probably more like a month since Illinois didn’t have Election Day registration back then, but still.  I don’t remember my first ballot, but I vividly recall voting against St. Ronnie of Reagan in 1980, and everything he stood for.  I also remember sitting at the bar, in what is no longer a bar but actually a really nice restaurant, drowning my sorrows that night watching the results pour in.  (Ha!  No pun intended…)  My friend Jim and I were, of course, the only two “godless liberals” in the joint, don’t think that wasn’t annoying.  Not annoying enough, of course, to stir my inner activist to life.  That part didn’t come along for many years, more than it should have.

To avoid turning this into a totally political screed, here’s a completely random side note; do any of you out there know anything about opening up/running a bookstore?  I found myself in one in Chapel Hill a couple of weeks back, the first time I’d been in a real bookstore since I’d frequented the one back home in Woodstock.  It was such a cool vibe.  If it wasn’t an hour plus from here I’m pretty sure I’d be spending a regular amount of time there.  No such place exists here.  Tbh, I’m not sure this town could support it, what with the population (and, frankly, the populace) but that seems like it might be a pretty sweet retirement gig, you know?

Alright, one last thing.  I want to take a couple of minutes here to encourage you to subscribe to this fine piece of literariousity (not a real word) by clicking on the “SUBSCRIBE” button on either the mobile app or your desktop display.  I was chatting with the Great Vincenzo the other day, whining to him about how few readers I seem to be getting lately.  I don’t blame any of you, but rather the analytics that social media uses.  I’ve been finding my sanity to be much easier to maintain by not spending as much time on FB, IG, and the Twitterz.  On the flip side, my lack of random posting also drives down anything I do post, which pretty much consists of links to this place.

So, here’s a couple of photos, with really bad graphics inserted by yours truly, pointing out where to subscribe.  This first one shows the “SUBSCRIBE” button if you read me on your laptop/desktop.  It’s really pretty easy to find, as it’s directly to the right of the post as you read it.  Literally the second item down on the right hand side of the page.

This next one is if you read this on your mobile device.  It’s a little harder to find as you need to scroll down past the end of the post to find it, unless I can figure out how to get back in to the display settings for mobile readers, in which case I’ll relocate it so it’s easier to find.  At any rate, scroll down until you see the section I have highlighted and click on the button.  It’s pretty simple.  Just for clarity’s sake, if you subscribe you’ll get an email notification whenever I post something.  Currently I’ve got 15 subscribers, for whom I’m eternally grateful.  Btw, if any of you subscribers want to pop in to the comment section and sing the praises of your subscription, I’m totally cool with that too.  Not tryna put undue stress on anyone, but hey, help a brother out, ya know?

So, I lied about the one last thing part, there’s also this before I go…  If you voted yesterday (or if you early voted like I did) thank you!

If you didn’t vote, really?  wtf?

Peace

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Following Up On “WTF was I thinking?”

So, I’m sitting at the coffeehouse this morning, contemplating what I could write about.  This feels better, btw, at least more productive than usual, since I often find myself thinking “I should write about _____” and then not doing anything with it.

But, as often seems to be the case with me, I was getting bupkis in the way of ideas.  So, I finished my delightful latte, got back in the car, and headed home.

And then, as sometimes happens, the universe provides…

Remember a couple posts back when I asked (rhetorically, I thought) if you’ve ever had a “WTF was I thinking?” moment?  Less than five minutes out from the coffeehouse, as I was heading south, I witnessed the end result of poor decision-making skills driving toward me.  A plain, nondescript, white van, the kind that used to be called a cargo van but now is more like an abduction van.  At least according to movies that have abduction scenes in them.  The van was heading north, bearing a cargo of sheet rock on its roof rack.  I’m pretty sure the drivers conversation with himself before he left the home improvement store was something along the lines of “Should I throw a strap over that stuff? Nah, I’m not going that far…”

Turns out he chose poorly, as I watched first one, then two, then, ultimately, five sheets of drywall raise up off the roof of his van, catching wind and snapping backward into two (or more) large pieces against the rear of his van, finally smashing into the roadway in his wake.  Fortunately there was no one behind him.  I imagine he planned for some waste when he made his purchase.  But dayam buddy, that much?

I continued on my merry way home with a little literary fuel.  Thank you stranger.

On another note, I made a brief PSA regarding the upcoming election at the end of my last post.  I didn’t anticipate anything else political between posting that and Election Day, but I figured since I’d talked the talk I should also walk the walk. I early voted yesterday.  It was a little busier than I anticipated but still only took me fifteen minutes or so to accomplish.  Judging from the crowd, and tbh, assigning stereotypes to my fellow early voters (and their walkers, canes, caregivers, et al) my Democratic (uppercase D intended) vote put me squarely in the minority of the democratic (lowercase d intended) process.

I’m ok with that btw.  Some might ask what the point of voting is when you’re so outnumbered your candidate can’t possibly win.  I counter that by saying this; not voting is a guarantee your voice will not be heard.  Even if the candidate of your choice is defeated, the person elected still represents you.  Regardless of your (or their) party affiliation.  Remember folks, democracy is a contact sport.  And in this case, that contact needs to be made by you with whomever represents you in whatever public office they may hold.  You want something done?  Stop in and see them or a staffer of theirs, in person.  As often as you can.  Once you force them to assign a face to your name it becomes a more complex issue for them to tell you “no”.  And, by the same token, make sure and thank them whenever they vote the way you ask them to on an issue.  No one wants to hear all bitching, all of the time.  *climbs off soapbox*

Finally, and this will be brief, I’d just like to leave you with this.  In using a public restroom here, well, anywhere really, you’ll typically see a sign on the wall reminding employees to wash up after using the facilities.  These signs often bear the name of the state capital, in this case Raleigh.

It’s not possible for me to see that word without hearing it in Andy Griffith’s voice.  I mean, like every single time.

Raleigh.

See?  You can’t not do it, can you?

Vote.

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Retired Guy Post Number 2

While I was out-of-town, the fall edition of the biannual, official, Illinois retired fire guy magazine (pro tip- not its real name) came in the mail.  That being said, I’m taking this opportunity to share what I wrote back then here with you today.  Like I said when I started doing the regular column for the magazine; A.) I was (still am) thrilled to be asked to submit something and B.) going to share them here after a new article gets published.

So, here goes…

I recently had to travel back to the frozen tundra of northern Illinois.  My Local, DGPFFA #3234, had our Recognition Dinner.  We do this event every year to honor retirees from the previous year, and since I qualified, I came back for the festivities.  Since I’m now on a fixed income, I’d typically drive but due to time constraints, this time I flew.

For the trip home I chose casual attire, which included my union logo’d jacket.  I’m proud of my Union; Local 3234, the AFFI, and the IAFF and I don’t mind representing when I’m out in public.  

Brief side-track…

A few years ago, maybe 2013 or 14, I was helping the fellas collect for MDA.  I was positioned on one of the busiest intersections in town; west bound Butterfield Road at Finley Road.  At one point as I was strolling among the cars stopped at the light, I saw a woman, sitting in the front passenger seat, reach in to her purse.  Of course I stopped at her window.  An older woman along with her husband (I assume) driving a fairly recent model, full-size, Cadillac.  Big money, right?  I leaned over as she rolled down her window and as soon as the window opened the hubby leaned over and asked what we were collecting for.  I politely told him we were collecting for MDA, “you know, Jerry’s kids.”  Even though Jerry Lewis no longer did the telethon I still used that line, especially with folks my age or older.  As the wife deposited a dollar in change (I wish I was making that part up) the husband said, and I quote, “Oh, good.  I thought this was some union thing” Before they pulled away I said “Oh don’t worry sir, it is a union thing, thanks!” and laughed to myself as they drove off.

Back to the matter at hand.

So, while sitting at the gate at O’Hare, waiting for the return trip to North Carolina, a gentleman came over and sat down a couple seats away from me.  He looked at my jacket and asked if I was a firefighter.  I told him I was, that I was actually a recently retired firefighter.  Then he said, with complete sincerity “Thank you for your service.”  I thanked him for his kind words, but assured him the pleasure was all mine.  I meant it too.  I loved being “on-the-job” as much as anything I’ve done and all the good times that came along with it too.  But when someone from the general public drops a “TYFYS” on me, I get a little twitchy.  Don’t get me wrong, I like a compliment as well as the next person.  Still, something about it just doesn’t feel right.  I mean, after all, we’re just doing what we get paid to do, right?  And I may be wrong, but I think most of us got into this business for many things other than accolades.

So, my retired brethren and sisteren, (that may not be a word by the way) I’m looking for a little help here.  Do I just need to get over this or is there a better way to handle unsolicited yet genuine thanks for doing something I loved doing?  Any suggestions are welcome. And, uh, TYFYS…

There you have it.  I actually liked the first one better than this one, but I guess they can’t all be Pulitzer worthy…

That still holds true btw, I still don’t know how to respond when somebody tosses out a sincere “TYFYS” to me.  I mean, on occasion another fire guy will hand one out, but it’s totally different, kind of snarky when given to one another, so it’s easy to laugh off.  Oh well, I guess I just continue to smile and say “It was my pleasure” because, truly, it was.

One last thing before I head off to my next errand.  I’m not sure if I’ll get anything out between now and Election Day (caps mine) and I just want to take a few seconds to remind you of the importance.  I don’t care what your political beliefs are, (ok, that’s a lie, I do, but it’s still your right to vote.  Even when you’re voting for the wrong person…) to me, the single most American thing you can do is get. out. and. vote.  So please, get up off your couch and go do it.  This midterm is a very important election.  They all are, but this one more than most.  So instead of my usual sign off, I think I’ll leave you with this instead…

Vote.

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Life With Lilly Episode 4 – Street Chicken

Well, #LillyNO and I just got back from a whirlwind trip through the Midwest.  You may recall (if you read this stuff) that I had mentioned leaving her with a friend for this trip.

Yeah, about that…

If you’ve ever had one of those moments where you stop and ask yourself “what the #%&$ were you thinking?” then you can relate to me last week.  To refresh your memory, I took #LillyNo in to get her spayed and micro-chipped.

Two days before I was going out-of-town for a week.

Sigh.  I know.

She did great with her surgery, although that first day, a couple of hours after we got back home, I took her off the bed so she could go outside for a potty break.  And I was handling her gingerly, even more so than usual given her surgery.  When I set her on the floor she let out THE most mournful yelp that lasted every bit of 25-30 seconds and she cowered at my feet.  I almost broke into tears on the spot.  And, in that instant, I asked myself what the #%&$ I was thinking by leaving her behind.  I couldn’t do it.  I called my friend Jacquie and thanked her, apologizing profusely, but knew I had to bring my poor puppy with me.  By the next day #LillyNO was feeling significantly better (Thankfully) and we prepped for the trip.  Which was pretty darn cool, if I do say so myself.  And I just did, so.  The purpose of this particular trip was A.) to marry my wonderful god-daughter (to her also wonderful sweetie pie, duh) and B.) swing through Nashville on the way home for a concert (naturally).  And both events went off smoothly.  Except for the whole almost forgetting to do the paperwork which actually, you know, marries the happy couple.  But that’s a story for another time.  I’ve got ample filler here without that tale.  Besides, the two littlest grandkids were thrilled to have #LillyNO in for a visit.  As evidenced by – adorbs, right?

For starters, the Little Diamond scored HUGE bonus points with old Grandpa Joe on my first day there.  As she sat on my lap, looking up at my unshaved chin she proceeded to count all the dark hairs in my stubble.  Now, tbh, there aren’t many.  But to the mind of a three-year old, it was a significant number and she proclaimed it as such.  Heart officially warmed.  Her other particular highlights came during the festivities on Saturday.  As the flower girl (read-flower princess) she marched down the aisle, on time, with a huge smile on her face, stopping at my leg to give me a great big hug until she went back to Mommy and Daddy for the duration of the ceremony.  She was adorable.  Later that night, at the reception, we had the fortune to be seated in close proximity to the cake.  This was no small deal to a cake fan of her magnitude (mine too) (because apple/tree, etc) but shortly after the cake was taken back in to the kitchen to be cut, she looked over at the cake table and said, in a very loud, very precocious three-year old voice “Somebody stole the cake!”  After being reassured the cake would, in fact, be back soon, she was fine.  There’s nothing lower than a cake thief, especially for someone as fond of cake as LD.  Me too, btw.

I’d also like to thank Illinois for providing gale-force winds on Saturday afternoon, along with snow blowing horizontally.  Quick reminder, I just had two Tropical Storms pass through my area and neither provided the wind speeds I saw.  Also it was, like 50 degrees warmer here.

Let’s just say I’m not remotely sorry I won’t be back there for the winter “festivities”.

Nashville was a lot of fun.  One of the guys from the firehouse met me down there.  Tom is a great guy in general, and a great guy to see a concert with in particular, and we saw a fantastic show.  Jason Isbell at the Ryman Auditorium.  If you’ve never checked out his music, please do, it’s amazing.

I also learned #LillyNO is apparently a subspecies henceforth known as Urbana Canis (h/t to Google Translate for giving me Latin) aka Urban Dog.  She loved Nashville.  I suppose it helped that she was treated like Leona Helmsley by the hotel staff.  Although, unlike Leona, #LillyNO loved them right back.  She was given numerous treats, a travel water bowl, and a tennis ball along with being fawned over every time they saw her.  Her elevator skills are pretty impressive too.  As soon as the doors opened, she would walk in and take a spot in the far corner, at my feet.  She sat patiently until we got to our floor and then dutifully pranced off to our room.  I think her favorite part, however, came during our walks.  She not only encountered many adoring humans (and was appropriately charming to them all) she also found quite a different bill of fare as compared to walking around our yard.  Now, for background, by all indications rabbit poop must be classified as quite the canine delicacy.  Sophie *skypoint* used to scavenge the backyard meticulously in search of it and #LillyNO has spent roughly 93.1% of her time outdoors here doing the same thing.  But rabbit poop doesn’t hold a candle to…

Street chicken.

Seriously.

I pulled no less than six chicken bones, one pork rib bone, two pieces of bread, something that may or may not have been polenta, and what I believe to have been prehistoric pizza crust from her jaws.  In two days.  And that’s not counting the things I saw before she did and steered her away from.  Still and all, the #LillyNO experience in Nashville contained many more positives.  An ample opportunity for human attention being foremost on her list, as seen here, on the sidewalk in front of a monolithic coffeehouse across the street from Vanderbilt University, awaiting the next person to speak gibberish to her and prove that she is, in fact, kind of a big deal.

As she should be.  She’s worth it.  And fwiw, I promise to do my best to keep the “what was I thinking” moments to a minimum.

At least as far as #LillyNO is concerned.

Peace

 

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Roadside Markers

One of the things I miss most about being at the firehouse is the steady stream of material for this humble, little blog.  I mean, with minimal effort I was provided with multiple posts; whether it was the misadventures of new guys, unusual calls, or efforts on behalf of the union.  Mostly goofy new guys, but still.  On occasion I’ll get a text message from one of the guys, either from DG or one of the other places I wrote about here.  For example, I got a copy of a text exchange the other day wherein I learned our former new guy Mike still has his “you’re so pretty” moments.  I literally lol’d three or four different times as I kept reading and rereading the text.  Btw, I love you Mike, don’t ever change.  And congrats on the little one!

Another example is a phone conversation I had yesterday with a friend of mine that was recently promoted to Battalion Chief at his FD.  Today is his first shift and he joked that he’d probably mark the day by burning down a historic building in his town.  I, of course, asked him to wait until his second shift to destroy a city block, since I would then be in Illinois and able to harass him in person while also gaining first-hand information for a future blog post.  Of course, I really hope he doesn’t burn down a city block (mostly) but I’m not even lying when I say it would give me ample material to write.

And so I don’t get accused of burying the lede there, yes, I’m heading back to Illinois on Wednesday.  My dance card is mostly open, although Thursday afternoon/evening and Saturday are pretty booked.  If you’ve got availability and feel like chatting up a retiree, hit me up and we’ll see if we can make something happen.  Also, I’m looking for a little info on a phenomenon that seems to be a regular thing down here but not something I really recall seeing back home.

Now, I’ll grant you that vehicles sometimes break down along the interstate.  But I don’t remember them staying there for every long.  I don’t know if that’s due to people getting them towed home or to the zealousness of the ISP at keeping the highways clearish, but either way the sense of urgency to remove a vehicle from the side of the interstate down here is not remotely the same.  Another thing, and this is more what I’m wondering about, I notice people down here will stick something out one of the windows of the abandoned vehicle.  Sometimes a towel, rag, or t-shirt, but more often a plastic shopping bag.  I’ve been told that is done to alert the coppers the vehicle is broken down and not, in fact, abandoned.  Don’t ask, cause I don’t know.  I mean, I don’t know what one has to do with the other, but that’s what I’ve been told.  Just to kind of frost this cake, I noticed a tractor-trailer sitting on the side of the highway on my way up to Greensboro late last week.  When I returned home, the tractor was gone, but the trailer was still parked on the side of the road.  I think there were a couple of people by it still, looking at something on the back of the load.  Building materials, btw.  You know, 2×4’s etc..

You’ll never guess what I saw on the back of the load this morning on my way back up to Greensboro…  Because yes, of course, the trailer was still sitting there unattended.  Go on, guess.  I’ll wait…

Did you guess a plastic shopping bag?

YOU WIN!!!

***Disclaimer- there is no prize for correct guesses other than your very own smug satisfaction for correctly peering into the mindset of people down here via my very own twisted little perception of said people.***

Ok, I just heard from the vet, Lilly is doing great and will be ready to be picked up in a couple of hours.  I dropped her off pre-dawn today to get her spayed and microchipped.  I should probably wrap this up and move on to my next group of errands before I go get her and bring her home.

Keep your eyes open for stuff sticking out of windows of any broken down vehicles and report back, aight?

Peace

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ICRTD Hurricane Edition 2.0

What does one write about when one doesn’t know what to write about?

No, really, I’d like to know.

Ok, since I won’t really get an appropriate answer, at least not in a manner timely enough to write this particular post, how bout this?

MOAR HURRICANES!

Michael is currently making his way toward the Florida panhandle, and after landfall there, is due to come through central North Carolina.  Yay?  On the plus side, for me, this storm will have spent far more time over land than Florence did before getting by me, and it’s also (allegedly) a faster moving storm.  I’ve seen rainfall estimates of 1″-3″ and 3″-5″ depending on the specific track he takes, so either way it shouldn’t be horrible.  Again, I do this not looking for sympathy (or to give certain, unnamed people any Schadenfreude) but rather since I’m not above gloating about nice weather here I feel like it’s only fair for me to write about named storms cruising through my area.

Let’s see, what else do we have here?  Ok, how bout this?  I’m currently at my local coffeehouse, although, truth be told, it’s more like a restaurant that has baristas too, and can I just say Jesus it’s loud in here.  I mean I’ve got my headphones on, cranking out one of my favorite playlists and while my personal volume is moderate, I can still hear the dull roar of several dozen conversations rumbling in the background.  That’s no bueno.  At one point in the last year or two I considered opening up a coffeehouse as a retirement gig.  And then I realized that, you know, that’s kind of a lot of work and I don’t know that I really want to impose that on my retired ass.  Yet, it’s something this town sorely lacks, imho.  An actual coffeehouse.  I like this place, I do, the people are all very nice, and several of them now recognize me by my go-to order (large vanilla latté [or is it lattè?]  I checked Wikipedia and found both used…) which I really enjoy.  And there are three other places in town that call themselves coffeehouses; but one is in a chain book store, one is a former bar that doesn’t open until 10 in the morning and still has the pool table from its previous incarnation, and the third is small, dark, and dingy and not at all conducive to my caffeinated enjoyment.  And caffeinated enjoyment is not to be taken lightly.  In fact, I’m kind of tickled with that combination of words and you may well see it frequently from here on out.  Caffeinated enjoyment.  Kinda rolls right off the tongue, no?

I did stumble across a really nice place up in Greensboro, right downtown, that I really like.  The problem, although not a huge one, is that it takes me a little over thirty minutes to get there from here.  So it’s a pain, but not a deal breaker, at least for me.  And certainly not a big enough hassle to make me rethink my future as a small businessman.  Unless I hit the lotto tonight.  And since I’ll most likely forget to buy a ticket for it, I’d say the chance of winning is exponentially worse than if I did buy one.

Lastly (I think) I’ve got another trip home to Illinois coming up in a little over a week.  I’ll be gone from central NC for about a week with my trip split into two parts; a family wedding on the 20th and then a swing through Nashville for a concert.  My plan as of now is to leave #LillyNO with my realtor.  I didn’t really want to have to leave her locked up for such a long stretch during the wedding festivities and then also I didn’t really want to leave her penned up in a hotel room while I’m at the concert.  I know she’s fine at home for several hours, but if she barks the whole time she’s locked up (and I don’t know that she does, but if she did) in the hotel room, well, then she’s bothering a lot of people unnecessarily.  But still, the thought of her being somewhere else, no matter how well she’s cared for (and I know she’ll be well cared for there) kind of doesn’t sit well with me.  She’s going through a bit of a terrible two or threenager phase now and even though she is perfectly capable of producing short periods of time where she’s a total jerk, I still enjoy having her around and she’s still adorable AF, you know?  So I’ve got some contemplating to do.

I’ve also got some lawn care to do before Michael gets here, because apparently it’s against protocol to have a less than tidy lawn before a named storm blows in and dumps a bunch more leaves, acorns, and branches onto your yard.  Who knew?  Certainly not me.  But judging from the neighborhood activity the last couple of days, that’s the deal, so… I’m off.

Peace