My New Years Resolution

“Sticks and stones will break my bones but names will never hurt me”  The truth is offensive names and statements can be hurtful but only if you let them.  Being offended is a choice.  You will make thousands of choices everyday and you can choose not to be offended.  That’s my choice for the coming year, not to be offended.  It is a difficult choice but if I can show that I’m not offended by ignoring negative comments/actions then I believe this will be a step in the right direction to sap the power from others that are being negative.  I will not give up my power to others by engaging in their game.

It seems common today, someone is saying something offense accidently or purposefully.   Well the truth is that’s nothing new, it’s being going on for ages however in current times  we have more ways to publish  (Facebook, Twitter, News Media, etc.) those offense statements as well as respond to the offense.   Don’t confuse offensive remarks/actions with threats.  All threats should be dealt with by authorities, report them immediately. 

Too often we seem to be ready to fight (physically or verbally) when someone disses us with slang or unflattering words, really that just inflates the situation.  The news media are experts on how to blow something out of proportion plus with Facebook, Twitter and all the other social media sites it’s easy to stir people up.   They are just words (admittedly inappropriate words) but we need to grow a thicker skin and ignore these comments.  Don’t get me wrong sometimes you need to stand your ground for your beliefs but those times are few.  Turning away from a negative remark won’t always work but for me it’s going to be my first reaction for 2014. 
 

Over time some words, which were acceptable 30 or 40 years ago have become inappropriate now.  Maybe some were never really appropriate words but they were used in daily conversations.  It can be difficult for some people to understand why this is no longer acceptable in today’s culture.  Some people may not mean to be harmful or disrespectful of others by using these words.  Where and how we were brought up plays a big part in how we live, so I will take this into consideration.

I will not hold grudges.  Grudges only hurt me.  I will forgive the past indiscretions of others I also have a past littered with indiscretions.  What’s important is how I act and treat people today. 

So my New Years resolution this year is to make a conscious choice not to be offended by others, what’s yours?

These thoughts are just my opinion after my 65 years of living, hopefully no one has been offended my opinion, if you have then you have missed the whole point of the article. 

Greece (Day 1)

Many college students have the opportunity to spend a semester abroad much as our son (Pat) did when he was in college.   He spent the fall semester of 2004 in Volos, Greece so we (Mom, Dad & sister), took this opportunity to visit him but first we booked a 10 day bus tour, which we would follow up with a visit to Volos for a few days.

    As you probably know Greece has many beautiful places with an interesting history and many historical sites with dazzling stories.  But the truth is anyone who has visited Greece can give you the same information that I could, so what I really want to tell you about is our unique experiences in Greece. 

     We arrived at Athens Airport in the morning and proceeded to customs with our bags.  My daughter Maureen and I skated easily thru customs with no questions, my wife (Mimi) however was sequestered over to a separate custom lines, I guess it was for all those suspect people that looked dubious at best.  Now, if you know Mimi she could not be more white bread than anybody, so why did they choose to pull her out of line, I have no idea.  She gets nervous if the parking meter runs out of time before we get back to the car.  Maureen and I were through customs on the Greece side anxiously watching what was going on with Mimi, we were not allowed to stand with Mimi as we were cleared and approved while she was taken away.  All of a sudden she appears on the hallowed Greece side of customs and is apparently cleared, without explanation, well maybe there was an explanation but we don’t know what since we don’t speak any Greek.  They don’t even use the same letters of the alphabet that we use.   I guess they just came to realize that she couldn’t be a threat to anyone.

     Now that we are all safe together with our bags we go out to the taxi stand to catch a cab to the hotel.   The bags are loaded into the cab Mimi and Maureen sit in the back seat and I sit in the front with the driver, by the way the driver speaks very little English, miniscule really.  This is always a good combination, tourist that speak no Greek and a Greek Cab driver that knows three English words (yes, no & smoke).  A couple things to know about Athens is the drivers must be in training for the demolition derby because they make the bad drivers I’ve seen elsewhere seem like driver training instructors.  Secondly everybody smokes, I mean all the time and everywhere so much so that there is a haze over the city from the tobacco smoke. 

    So we are racing our way to the hotel, dodging motorcycles, running lights and cutting people off when the cab driver turns to me and says “Pretty Good Huh” referring to his skill at driving in a highly populated city.  Well now I have learned that the driver knows 6 English words, Great! but, that’s six more words than I know in Greek so I guess I shouldn’t be critical.   Now literally less than 1 minute after he proudly exclaims his excellent driving skills we come to an intersection, which is kind of like a free-for-all with cars (note previous comment about demolition derby) well we proceed through the intersection quickly and "BAM" we run directly into a motor scooter.  Well when it comes to cabs and scooters the cab will always win.  So now sprawled in the middle of the intersection is the scooter and the driver.  The traffic is now stopped and we pull over to the side of the road.  The cabbie gets out and the police show up meanwhile someone drags the scooter to the side of the road, then the driver is attended to, someone helps him up and walks him over to the curb where he sits awhile, he then gets up and staggers over to a building and leans against a wall.  He appears shaken up but not hurt badly.  Then it happens, he reaches in his pocket grabs a cigarette and lights up.  Apparently all is well, the magic tobacco will cure his ails. 

A new cab is called to take us the remaining distance to the hotel which is just mile or so away.  We arrive safely get to our room with out any incident.  Pat shows up with his friends and they and Maureen go out to check out the city of Athens.

Mimi and I go down to check in with the tour guide and get a glass of Ouzo.   Holy crap! Where's the Tylenol!

Walnut Park

     Walnut Park is an area in North St. Louis and in the past (1950 -70) was populated by mainly blue collar workers and their families.  I (Jim L) was born in 1948 and grew up on Pamplin Place in Walnut Park.  Pamplin Place dead-ended in to and alley on one side then West Florisssant on the other.  Directly across West Florissant was Herzog School on Pamplin Avenue.  Down a couple streets on West Florissant was Jennings Boat and Motor (Era Ave).

     It was a different world then, as a kid you lived outdoors, we had TV’s but channels were limited and as young kids we watched mainly cartoons, cowboys and Cardinals baseball.  In the summer we spent most days outdoors playing which included spud, Indian ball (is it appropriate to say that in these days, forgive me maya copa, maya copa, maya copa) or sometimes we would just hangout.  We had phones (landlines, well just rotary phones, landlines wasn’t a word yet) but as kids we hardly ever user them some were 40 call or party lines.  It wasn’t something that we were prohibited from using it just wasn’t in our DNA. 

    When you went out to for the day you would go to a hangout or to a friend’s house but you didn’t ring the doorbell you just stood outside the door and yelled their name.  People always had their windows open so you were always heard.  Someone would usually yell back to come in or tell you they weren’t home.  You generally stayed out all day or until you got hungry.  When it was time for you to come home in the evening your Mom would stick her head out the front door and yell your name.  If you weren’t in hearing distance sometimes a neighbor would pass the message on to you or somehow you would be tracked down.  No one ever wore a watch, I had one but only wore it for certain occasions.  We were never concerned about what time it was.  We had no agenda of things to get done.  Not having a watch and not caring about the time sometimes lead to trouble.  We walked everywhere, we had bikes but walking seemed to be the preferred mode of transportation.

    In those days families didn’t move around a lot, you picked a neighborhood and stayed there.  So consequently, you knew your neighbors and spent more time with them.  It’s likely that there were many communities like Walnut Park throughout our country during those years, that’s just the way middle America lived.  I went to Nativity School along with my friends in the neighborhood, which included kids on Pamplin (Jim M, Frank B, Reinhard A), Mimika (John & Mike O) Floy Ave (Mike N, Dave & Kenny B).  There were other friends in our neighborhood that attended public grade school (Earl, Dennis & Mike N, John S, Bill K).  Many of us had siblings that also attended the same schools.

     We played organized sports but only Summer baseball and Winter soccer (yes, winter), we started in the Fall and played in the mud, slush and snow and we enjoyed running around in the mud. The organized sports were always a school/church team, (Nativity, St. Aldalbert’s, etc.) there were very few select teams the only one I remember was Kutis (sponsor by the Funeral Parlor) soccer.  We always played other school teams in both baseball and soccer so we got to know kids from other schools.  I enjoyed soccer more than baseball, partly because I was better at that sport than baseball and I didn’t play it at first but my buddies convince me to join the team.

     Summers were great we were always outside running around playing ball, Hide and Seek, roaming the streets/alleys or just riding down a big hill in a cardboard box.  Summers are when the Tamale man, snow cone man and Mr. Softee Ice cream truck would come around.  I remember that I loved the tamales.  We even had a guy with a pony that came and gave rides.  I used to buy model car kits from Henze's hobby shop, which was across from Walnut Park School, then put them together with tube glue (airplane glue). That’s the  glue that kids used to get high on in later years. I would paint the cars, put decals on and sometimes enter them in contest at Henze’s.  On Friday nights we would regularly go to the Rio Show, It didn’t really matter what was showing it was what we did on Friday at that time in our life, strictly fun with no worries. Jimmie the midget was the usher. Everyone knew him but now I’m told he wasn’t a midget just a really short guy, Not trying to hurt anyone’s feelings but that’s what everyone called him.

     There were lots of small mom and pop businesses in the Walnut park area, one of which was Shady Grove with outside service and we must not forget Ed’s White Front with great BBQ sandwiches plus many more small stores all in walking distance.  These were different times, less stressful, less complicated, a much simpler life.

Go-Cart (from Uncle Clarence)

My uncle Clarence was the jokester of the family, he loved to give everyone a hard time especially the kids and the kids loved to give it back to him but he was much better at it.  He was a generous person with a fun loving nature.  Clarence owned a Standard  (Amoco) Station in Clayton on North and South and one of his customers came in with a go cart, my uncle bought it then asked my Dad if I wanted it, he charged me $5.00.  I know he was a good negotiator but I suspect that it cost quite a bit more than $5.00.  This was a go-cart with a 2½ HP B&S motor and I was about 14 at the time. I went from a wooden crate to a motorized go-cart. I felt like I just won the lottery although there was no lottery at the time but it came with rules, lots of rules.  There had to be an adult around when we rode it, we couldn’t ride it in the street plus whatever other arbitrary rules they came up with.  Actually, I was surprised and shocked that my Dad let me have it under any circumstances.  This only proves that Dad understood how much fun it would be for me plus how good a salesman my uncle was. 

This go-cart was a kid magnet, it was like kids from miles around could smell it.  Word spread like wildfire.  At first Dad would take a few of us out to ride it over at Herzog School, when you drove it felt like you were flying it was so low to the ground, we had a blast.  We also went over to a go-cart track in Boschertown (way over in St. Charles).  The kids there had go-carts with 10 HP engines and we felt like we were standing still when they past but it was still fun.

Dad was not always available to take us out go carting, because he had to work or had other obligations so when encouraged by my friends to take the go-cart out in the alley (the rule was not in the street but the alley, technically was not a street).  The go-cart was loud so it was impossible to take it out without anyone knowing so I ask my Mom to take it out in the alley and she agreed (I guess I learned something from my uncle Clarence).  We drove it in the alley a few times but it was hard to turn around without hitting a garage so we later took it over to Herzog School, which was down the street but we had to cross West Florissant Avenue a very busy street.  I believe we got in trouble for that.  At some point we drove over a nail or something and got a flat, so I took the tire off to get it fixed which took a little time because I had to pay for the repair.  Well as you know sometimes good luck is followed by bad luck, the go-cart (with only 3 wheels) was stolen out of our garage.  But I do remember getting some money ($50) I’m told from the insurance, which I could put toward the purchase of a car when I saved more money, since I had just turned 16 this made the theft less painful.  My uncle Clarence was also instrumental in fixing my first car plus getting me my 2nd (more reliable) car when I got a little older. Thanks Uncle Clarence.

Backyard Campout

     As young boys we liked to campout in the backyard, playing cards, telling stories, some would smoke. The last backyard campout we had caused my parents some concern.  I have to admit my parents were much more strict than some others and this campout was in my parents backyard.  This campout was a Friday night and we were all from Catholic families so eating meat on Friday and certain Holy days was forbidden, a mortal sin that would send you to Hell if you died before you confessed your terrible sin. That was hard to swallow (not the meat) but the punishment of Hell, I didn’t understand how eating meat on Friday and murder received the same religious punishment and the explanation authorities gave didn’t make any sense.  As a family we lived with the no meat rule until the church finally changed it, which was also puzzling because if you ate meat on the Friday before the rule was changed it was a mortal sin but a week later after the rule changed eating meat on Friday was ok, didn’t make any sense to me and questions were never welcome or answered satisfactorily.

     Anyway back to the campout, as we got older playing cards, tell stories and smoking wasn’t enough excitement for some of the guys. So some of the group decided after eating our fill of meat laden sandwiches that going over to the neighbors’ backyard with an above ground pool would be a good idea to cool off but it was 3:00am.  A few us stayed back in the tents because it seemed like the idea had bad news written all over it.  So the swimmers disrobed and headed over to the neighbors for an early morning swim.  How they did not see this ending badly I can’t answer. Young boys are not quiet creatures and the neighbors were awakened abruptly with the splashing water and other noises from their pool and as we suspected our neighbors didn’t much care for the idea.  Especially since none of the swimmers had trunks, Yeah, the neighbors woke up to a bunch of boys in tightey whiteys swimming in their pool, not happy about that.  Once discovered the guys decided they needed to high tail it out of there, but now you had a bunch of half nude boys running around the neighborhood trying to get back to the tents in my parents back yard. 

     So early that morning my parents had a series of questions they ask of me after they cancelled the campout.  They found the meat and ask what heathens were eating meat on Friday, my answer of I don’t know and it was only meat wasn’t satisfactory.  Then ask why some of my friends were swimming in their underwear in the neighbors pool, I answered they had no swimming trunks, also a bad response.  I could barely give a reasonable answer for the things I did, answering questions for the actions of some of my friends was impossible to do, for all I knew it was the meat that poisoned their brains and drove them to commit these crazy acts.  I guess years later once the Catholic Church approved eating meat on Friday all the brain poisoning meat was destroyed.