When the Going Gets Tough the Tough Go Shopping. The REALLY Tough Go Shopping on Black Friday.

My main Thanksgiving meal, the first of several until our turkey supply is depleted, is over.  I figure I have an hour before the football games and tryptophan kick in so I’d better type fast.  I imagine some eager shoppers are already lining up for the Black Friday Eve sales that begin at 6 PM on Thanksgiving. 
 

Henry Ward Beecher once lamented “Alas!  Where is human nature so weak as in the book store?”  If Mr. Beecher was still alive, I wonder if he would change his lament to “Alas!  Where is human nature so weak as in the e-book store?”  The answer to his question might be Black Friday sales.
 

Sinclair Lewis died when 1951 was only 10 days old, but his observation that “People will buy anything that is one to a customer” still rings true 60+ years later.
 

Erma Bombeck once opined “Shopping is a woman thing. It's a contact sport like football. Women enjoy the scrimmage, the noisy crowds, the danger of being trampled to death, and the ecstasy of the purchase.”  Or as one unidentified woman instructed her grandkids “Get in there in front of me and block and tackle and make your grandma proud!”

In honor of the economic spurt that we know as Black Friday, here is a plethora of observations about shopping from a diverse cross-section of America:

“Women usually love what they buy, yet hate two-thirds of what is in their closets.” ― Mignon McLaughlin

The quickest way to know a woman is to go shopping with her - Marceline Cox

I always say that shopping is cheaper than a psychiatrist - Tammy Faye Bakker 

Whoever said money can't buy happiness simply didn't know where to go shopping.  ~Bo Derek

The other line moves faster.  ~Etorre's Observation 

A bargain is something you can't use at a price you can't resist.  ~Franklin P. Jones

Shopping:  The fine art of acquiring things you don't need with money you don't have.  ~Author Unknown 

Once again, we come to the Holiday Season, a deeply religious time that each of us observes, in his own way, by going to the mall of his choice.  ~Dave Barry 

Anyone who lives within their means suffers from a lack of imagination.  ~Oscar Wilde 

 

Black Friday: Because only in America, people trample others for sales exactly one day after being thankful for what they already have - Anon 

One unnamed shopper rejoiced that “Yeah!  My medical bills for the Black Friday Store fights are were less than what I saved!" That may sound far-fetched until you consider that police received a report in Sacramento that one eager shopper in line outside a K-Mart was threatening to stab others in line.  That brings one question to my mind:  K-MART? REALLY? 

Dave Barry explained the religious significance of Black Friday (or something) as follows: “Once again we find ourselves enmeshed in the Holiday Season, that very special time of year when we join with our loved ones in sharing centuries-old traditions such as trying to find a parking space at the mall.  We traditionally do this in my family by driving around the parking lot until we see a shopper emerge from the mall, then we follow her, in very much the same spirit as the Three Wise Men, who 2,000 years ago followed a star, week after week, until it led them to a parking space.” 

Me?  I miss the good old days when Back Friday was actually on Friday. 

Happy Thanksgiving!

Advice From an Old Sailor Outside Old Navy

I got a lotta muscles but I only got one eye
I never hurts nobody and I never tell a lie.

As I composed my thoughts for this blog, a burly person with “I AM WHAT I AM” tattooed in bold letters on their right forearm sat across from me.  No, it wasn’t my wife.  It was a guy I’d never met, though I readily determined we had at least two things in common: 

1.     An admiration for Popeye the sailor man.  (I yam what I yam and that’s all what I yam); and 

2.     A penchant for finding a comfortable chair while our wives shop.

 

My chair was just outside the entrance to Old Navy in Orlando’s Florida Mall.  Old Navy must be a genetic thing in my family.   My grandson recently shared a picture of a city he had designed & drawn on paper with crayons.  Pointing out the landmarks to me, he explained “Here is the church, here is the school, and here is Old Navy.”  The Florida Mall has 249 stores in addition to Old Navy, from A 2 Z Toys to Zumiez, a “skateboard/snowboard/clothing for people 50 years younger than me store."   The Florida Mall attracts 20,000,000 visitors a year, half of whom chose the same day to visit that we did.  The 510 room Florida Hotel is attached to the Florida Mall for those too weary to make it home after a hard days shopping.   I have learned to pace myself while shopping with my wife, thus the easy chair outside Old Navy.

Though it is only mid-November, Silver Bells played over the mall’s sound system.  “Silver bells, silver bells, It’s Christmas time in the city!”  Not really.  Thanksgiving is still a couple of weeks away.  Though I find it hard to get in the Christmas spirit when it is 78 degrees and the palm trees sway in the breeze, I am trying hard to adapt.

The burly Popeye fan across from me vacated his chair and it was soon taken by a weary grandmother pushing a stroller.  The two-year-old kid occupying the stroller eyed me suspiciously and began to make some noise.  “Don’t mind him” said the grandmother.  “He is in his terrible two’s!”  The kid spotted my package from the M&M store.  “Sorry kid, these are going to melt in my mouth, not yours” I thought to myself.   Under the kid’s steady gaze I selected a white, coconut-flavored M&M from my .86 pound (at $12.99 a pound) bag and popped it into my mouth.  The kid reacted quickly.  He arose from his stroller and created such a clatter his grandma sprang from her chair to see what was the matter!  Oops.  Sorry.  It must have been the Christmas music over the P.A. system that got me writing like Clement Moore.   Grandma then used the wisdom that comes with age to resolve the situation – she took the kid back to his parents, somewhere deep in the bowels of Old Navy.

When my wife appeared, she announced  “I want to go to Pandora.”  The good news was that the Pandora store is the same mall.  The bad news is (A) It is in a different zip code in the same sprawling mall; and (B) It is a jewelry store.  As we began the long trek, I began to ponder “What would Popeye do?”  Just then, more of Popeye’s words of wisdom came to me:  “I’m strong to the finish ‘cause I eat’s me spinach!” 

Taking a green peanut M&M from my bag, I popped it into my mouth.

Close enough.

Diamonds Are Forever, Satellite’s Aren’t

For Sale:  Diamonds Are Forever Yacht - Only $59.5 million



Though the ocean was the primary lure for us on our trip to Florida’s Atlantic coastline, one evening we ventured downtown to Clematis Street.  Clematis Street is described in tourist literature as “the historical heart of downtown West Palm Beach”.   Trendy shops and restaurants of all types sit within view of the intracoastal Waterway, a gathering place for some amazing yachts.  My wife surmised one such super yacht moored there, the 200+ foot “DIAMONDS ARE FOREVER”, is owned by Sean Connery, star of the 1971 James Bond movie of the same name.   If you are interested, it is up for sale for only $59.5 million.

On Thursday evenings the Clematis Street business district features live music in a park just off Flagler Blvd.  The night we were there the band Riverdown was providing visitors with some great, and free, entertainment.

After we decided to stick around for a couple of hours I hiked back to our car to put some more money in the meter.  On the way I stopped to take a photo of some of local scenery, a dozen or so attractive females climbing into a stretch limo.  As I was stopped, a man approached me and stuck out his hand.

“Good evening, sir” he said, shaking my hand.  “My name is Simon.  You will note I have a neat appearance and there is no odor of alcohol when I speak to you.  Yes, I am a man of God”.   Before I could respond, he continued.  “My family and I have been in a homeless shelter but I have now found a job and we have moved into our own home.  Unfortunately, we are having a hard time meeting the $1,340 per month rent.  All we have had to eat today are these banana chips” he said, holding up a package.   Do you think you could help us?” 

Not having yet had dinner, I asked “Maybe . . . how much do you want for those banana chips?” 

Nah, I didn’t really say that.  I might have, but I was so surprised by the whole encounter I didn’t think of saying that.  Sometimes it can take me days to think of a snappy comeback.  Instead, I handed him the four quarters I had left over after filling the parking meter.  Taking them, he smiled, shrugged his shoulders and walked away.  Only 1339 more people like me and the rent is paid for another month! 

As we walked around Clematis Street, enjoying the music and the balmy weather, a half-moon peered down from above.  Somewhere up there, a large European science satellite sent into space to measure gravity had run out of fuel and was gradually succumbing to gravity.  The size of a VW van, the 1.2 ton chunk of metal had the potential to ruin the day of anyone unlucky enough to have it land on them.

In the movie Diamonds are Forever, James Bond’s longtime nemesis Ernst Blofeld threatened to destroy part of the United States with a satellite unless his demands were met.  That ambitious plot was not without its challenges. 

Blofeld to James Bond:  “The satellite is at present over . . . Kansas.  Well, if we destroy Kansas the world may not hear about it for years!”

That may be, but the rent in Cawker City, Kansas, home to the world’s largest ball of twine, was only $353 in 2011. 

Advice to Simon” HEAD WEST, YOUNG MAN!

The Babe Problems of Tiger and Babe

Though most people don’t associate Baltimore with the sunny beaches of Florida,  Southwest Airlines will throw in a trip to Baltimore on the way to Fort Lauderdale from St. Louis and knock $26 off the price of a direct flight.  What a deal!

 

It was in Baltimore on February 6, 1895 that George Herman “Babe” Ruth was born.  By 1930, Babe Ruth was raking in $80,000 a year swatting home runs.  When asked if he felt bad because President Herbert Hoover was only earning $75,000 a year at the time, the Babe reportedly responded “Nah, I had a better year than Hoover.”

As my wife and I prepared to board our flight to Fort Lauderdale in Baltimore, a parade of senior citizens in wheel chairs made their way to the front of the line.  Florida is apparently a pretty popular destination for east coast retirees.  Who knew?  I suspect at least one of those oldsters queuing up at the front of the line saw Babe Ruth, who died on August 16, 1948, play in person.

I chose Southwest Airlines for our trip because (A) the price was affordable, and (B) They do not charge extra for luggage.  What Southwest also does not do is assign seats to passengers.  It's first come, first served (unless you are in a wheel chair, in which case you go to the head of the line).  Instead, Southwest ingenuously lets passengers volunteer to pay extra to move to the front of the line to board the aircraft.  The first 15 people willing to pay an extra $40 go on first.  Next up are the “Early Birds”.  Passengers willing to pay an extra $12.50 are designated as Early Birds and get to board immediately after the Early, Early, Early Birds (wheelchair people) and the Early, Early Birds (people willing to fork over $40).  I forked over the $12.50 in hopes of snagging a window seat.  It worked.  As the last of the passengers unwilling to pay any extra cash to move up in line made their way aboard the plane the flight attendant announced “Folks, the only seats left are middle seats so find one beside someone who smells good and looks OK and sit down.  They may just turn out to be the love of your life!”

After an unremarkable flight, my favorite kind, we arrived in Fort Lauderdale right on time.  If we had driven to Florida as we originally planned we would have been finishing lunch at a Cracker Barrel in Illinois about the time we got off the plane. 

Thirty minutes later we were loading our luggage into a Nissan SUV driven by Terry, the wife of Joe, my wife's cousin.  Joe and Terry split their time between Melbourne, Australia, and Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, but they visit the U.S. frequently.   Last year they came to Missouri for a visit and we took them to Branson.  After all, how can you claim to be world travelers if you've never been to Branson?  They even got to meet Herkimer at Presley's Country Jubilee.

“Nice car!” I commented as we left the airport.  “Yes” said Terry, in her Aussie accent.  “The rental car company tried to give us a free upgrade to something called a Dodge Charger.  I didn’t know what it was so I chose this instead.  When the rental lady said ‘that’s ok, I’m sure someone else will want it’, the guy behind me in line said ‘I’LL TAKE IT!’”

We watched the sun rise Monday through large glass panes while sitting in Lambert Airport in St. Louis.   By the time the sun set Monday evening we were relaxing on a balcony overlooking the Atlantic Ocean.  Propelled by winds exceeding 40 mph, we marveled as the large waves the locals sometimes refer to  as “an angry ocean” crashed on the shoreline.  It was not too far from where we sat that Tiger Woods’ once crashed his car into a tree after suffering injuries and eventually losing his home to a storm of another kind, “an angry Elin”.    Tiger has rebounded nicely and is currently dating Olympic skier Lindsey Vonn.  Though he and Lindsey apparently have some spirited arguments as well, none have reportedly involved Lindsey whacking Tiger on the head with a nine-iron.

 

Babe Ruth could identify with Tiger's troubles with the opposite sex.  The Babe had his problems with women as well.  He once said "I'll promise to go easier on drinking and get to bed earlier, but not for you, for $50,000 or $250,000 will I give up women.  They're too much fun."

 

Some things never change. 

 

They just get more expensive.



Wanna Get Away?

For months, October 26, 2013 has been reserved on my calendar to pick up our Australian kin from a cruise ship terminal in Port Canaveral, Fl.  As the Beatles once sang though, “life is what happens while you’re busy making other plans.”  In this case, death is what happened.  My dad passed away in what my grandmother used to refer to as “the wee, small hours of the morning” on October 26, 2013.

My first inclination was to cancel the trip altogether.  Instead, what was to have been a 3+ week road trip was shortened to 13 days.  Instead of driving, my aerophobic wife and I would fly.  After a couple months (at least) of worry and stress, touring nursing homes and finalizing funeral arrangements, a change of scenery sounded pretty good.  We would temporarily trade Ridge Road and Murphy Ford Road and Nine Hills Road for Ocean Ave and Bamboo St and Beach Ave.

But first we had to get there.

We left home shortly after watching the KC Chiefs improve their record to 9-0.   Fortuitously, we were able to leave our our home in the care of a man highly recommended by his parole office for early release and whom the Hollywood Argyles might describe as “a mean motor scooter and a bad go-getter”.  His backup is a large, black, rather surly cat, not a pair to be trifled with in any case.

After a restless night’s sleep at Marriott’s Lambert airport hotel, we boarded the 5:40 am shuttle to the airport.  That’s when the real fun began.  Though we already had our boarding passes and availed ourselves of curbside check-in for our bags, we still had to pass through security.  The first line we came too was fairly short.  Unfortunately, it was reserved for politicians, billionaires, rock stars and foreign royalty.  We took our place at the end of the second line - a lengthy line designated “everybody else”. 

Security is always a challenge for my wife.  With a C-Pap breathing machine and two titanium knees, my wife is the poster girl for TSA training on flight risks.  There is no metal detector in existence my wife won’t set flashing and/or buzzing.  St. Louis was no exception.  I, on the other hand, walked through with nary a sound and began to redress and gather both mine and my wife’s belongings.  When I was fully clothed again, I glanced over and saw the TSA agent rounding second base headed for third with my wife.  That’s about how far I made it with her  – on our honeymoon.  I’m not sure how much farther he made it but when I looked back again he was smoking an e-cigarette and catching his breath. 

After we made it to our gate to await our flight, I heard the following announcement over the P.A. system:  “Would the person who left their rings at the security checkpoint please return and claim them?”  Nope – wasn’t us, but I could definitely understand how easy it would be to do that.  I hope that person was not already on board a plane.

Wife (to husband returning from business trip) – Where is your wedding ring?   Husband – Uh, er, umm – DANG!  I must have left it at the airport security checkpoint!   Wife – Choice (A) I want a divorce!  Or (B) OK, well let’s go shopping for a new ring – FOR ME!

Next stop – Baltimore.  Hey, in case you haven’t shopped airfares lately, tightwads like me (I prefer the term “frugal”) and direct flights are a rare combo.                                                                               

Trading Places

After 8 years of relatively faithful blogging during which I logged over 1600 entries, I was 1 for August, 1 for September, and O for October and November until now.  As Charles Dickens might say about the past 3 months, “It was the best of times; it was the worst of times.”  The best of times has involved my son and his wife, our two exuberant, joyful and joy-inspiring grandkids and friends and relatives that shine the brightest when things seem darkest.  The worst of times was watching the rapid decline in my father’s health since August, punctuated by his funeral on what would have been his 85^th birthday, October 30.

I have now officially replaced my dad as the senior member of my immediate family.  It was an honor I did not seek and one my father fought hard to retain.  A few times near the end, my dad viewed me as the enemy.  Though his weight barely reached triple digits when he finally succumbed, he was still strong enough, feisty enough and frustrated enough to take a swing at me as I was helping him back into his bed not long before he died.   Winston Churchill once observed “There is nothing more exhilarating than to be shot at without result.”  A close second might be having your father (or anyone else, for that matter) take a swing at a part of your anatomy that rhymes with “guts” but is located due south of there without effect.  Even in his weakened condition if my father had worn a 15½-34 size shirt instead of a 15½-31 size shirt Frankie Valli might now be calling me up asking “How the heck do you sing so high?”

I loved my dad a lot but he was a notoriously hard man to please.  He got a lot of free meals at restaurants.  “Always shine the heel of your shoes just as well or better than the toe” he told me when I was a kid.  “When you do something, what people can’t see is just as important as what they can see!”  A man with that attitude is a good man to have working FOR you but a very hard man to work for.  One spring a few years ago Dad asked me to help him put up his purple martin houses.  While we were putting them up he commented “I’m not as stout as I used to be, but when I get to heaven I’ll be strong again!  If I don’t like my house when I get there I’ll be strong enough to remodel it!” 

“Dad” I said, pondering what he had just said, “If you get to heaven and don’t like your house there I think you might want to just keep your mouth shut.”

Maybe not.

Maybe heaven for him is remodeling his heavenly abode and having every tool he could ever imagine for the job and all the lumber is Grade A with no knotholes!  Dad always seemed happiest when he was building something or refinishing something or restoring value to something others considered worthless. 

I’d say that is a pretty good legacy.

And remember: that’s now coming from the oldest surviving nut on my branch of the family tree.

My Dad Being Assisted by Several Present-Opening

Specialists at his two-week early Birthday Party.

He Died a Week Later.