When do you start listening?

I’m seventy-seven so I’m sure my hearing isn’t as good as it used to be, but it’s not terrible. At least that’s what I believe. The thing is I’ve been listening to conversations my whole life, and some are more interesting than others. As a result, I’m not always in the listening mode, sometimes I’m just zoning out. So I think it would be helpful to have a lead in phrase, before the real question or conversation. You know something that triggers the mind to start listening. This could be a lot of different things, maybe a shout, “Hey! Listen up” or “Watch out”. There are an endless number of phrases, you’ll have to decide what works for you. 

     Truly, zoning out is something I do more of lately, so the first five words are gone before I hit the listening button. It’s not really my hearing it’s just that I haven’t gotten into my listening mode. Sometimes using a key word in the lead in phrase might be enough to jar the person into a listening mode. Key words to consider for men are beer, guitar, cigar and sports car. Use any of these key words as part of the lead-in phrase and you should get an immediate response. “Honey, can I get you a beer?” or “Don’t you need a knew guitar? Women on the other hand might respond better using words like diamonds, dinner or cruise. You’ll have to learn what works best by trial an error.

     Also, it’s extremely difficult when a conversation is continued from an earlier one. To men it’s always a new topic, not one from an hour or even five minutes ago. Remember our resting position is zoning out. A women’s brain is always active. It’s not a bad thing just different.

     I guess the bottom line is don’t write off the other person as someone who’s hard-of-hearing just because you haven’t started the conversation with an interesting phrase or key word. “Just saying . . .”

Acceptance

All our life we are told to never give up, keep trying, don’t give in. Movies are made about people who achieve greatness through perseverance. Usually, a physical challenge that seems unattainable in someway. This is good advice but it’s not always the right advice. 

     Sometimes you have to accept that you can no longer do what you did in your thirties or forties. This should not be considered a fault or failure and it won’t happen to everyone at the same age. It’s one of life’s changes, one of many. Don’t worry you will always have challenges, physical, mental and spiritual, but there will come a time when you might need to let go of old challenges to take on new challenges. This is acceptance, consider it growth. One of these new challenges may lead to the greatness you seek. 

     Never give up seeking challenges, but don’t hold on too long to an old one or you might miss a new one that will take you across the finish line. “Just Saying . . .”

Time Traveler

I dream of things no one mentions 

Life unbounded by time 

A life I designed

World of adventure

Intrigue

 

I travel alone with Past and Future as my friends

Looking for problems and solutions

Anxious for the future

While knowing the past

I see endless possibilities

 

Challenges are many

Changes come slow

Rewards justified by results

Time is always moving

I have no bounds 

 

The Future is forward

Past is behind

I am part of both    

Each with struggles 

Victories too

 

Life untethered by time

No beginning or end

In-between

I live life unstructured

In the Past and Future

 

Words and their Intentions

Using words like racist, nazi, bigot and white supremacist are aggressive words that are intended to offend a person and invoke anger. Most times this method works and you get a volatile response. This is not a surprise because these days everyone is ultra-sensitive and offended easily even if the words used are not intended to offend.

     My first suggestion is not easy, because it’s opposes your knee-jerk reaction to return fire, so to speak. But I am suggesting that you don’t take offense if someone uses aggressive words (intentionally or unintentional) against you. Doing so will defuse their attack and deflate their argument. Speak calmly deny the accusation, then walk away. Debating someone that refuses to listen to an opposing viewpoint is futile.

     The second suggestion is directed to President Trump and our politicians on both sides of the aisle. Stop using aggressive words and phrases. They have no place in an advanced society and they make you look and sound uneducated. You represent our country, do it in an honorable way. 

     Changes are needed in this country, we can all do better. Let’s start now and come to the table to talk about our differences, like adults. Charlie Kirk was murdered this week because a misguided young man didn’t like his opinions. In this country we have the right of free speech. Both Charlie and the students were on a college campus exercising their rights. Don’t let our rights be taken away. “Just Saying . . .”

What makes life so difficult?

Life starts out with struggles. Being born is a struggle, learning to talk and walk. Everything is new but a child’s determination drives them toward independence. They don’t see things as struggles but challenges.

     It’s not until we get older, that we make life more difficult by wrong choices. You’d think all those years of experience would teach us better. Sure, we all make bad decisions. That’s just part of life, but if we continue down that path, it becomes the baseline for our life choices until we no longer recognize or care about the difference.

     Each day gives us new opportunities to make better decisions. Don’t let the repetitive behavior turn on the auto-pilot guiding you down the wrong path. It’s easy to blame someone or something else for the predicament you’re in, but that’s weak. Your influence best serves you when it’s used to direct your life, not other's. Yes, you can have influence on others, but your success rate will be far less than changes you can make to yourself.

     Bad decisions will get you notoriety, but not positive. Life is hard enough, don’t make it harder than it needs to be. Just Saying. . .”

Walk-away Reward

There’s a new sandwich shop in town. I love to try new places, especially sandwich shops and this one is a winner. They have a gimmick and it’s a great one. The name of the place is Walk-Away Treats. I popped in a couple weeks after it opened and ordered a Belgian waffle bacon, turkey, goat cheese sandwich. It sounded delicious, and it was but there was an unexpected surprise waiting.

“Can I interest you in some walk-away bacon?”

“Huh! What? Wait!” I scratched my head. “I understand 

each of the words individually, but the phrase is confusing.”

The clerk reached in the oven and pulled out a crisp piece of

bacon. “Let me explain. All customers can have a piece of

bacon when they make a purchase. You know . . . to eat as

they walk-away.”

“Wow! What an innovative idea.” I held out my hand. “Yes, please. I’ll take one.”

He handed me the bacon strip. “It has brown sugar on it.”

I took a bite. “That’s yummy.”

“Tomorrow we’re making peppered bacon, thick slices.” He smiled. “Last week we

had chocolate dipped.”

“Really! Are you doing that this week?”

“Maybe, but I know we’re having cinnamon flavored on Thursday.”

“Wow! I think I love this place.” I took another bite of my walk-away snack. “I’d

 bring my wife over, but she’s vegetarian.”

“Oh! We have great veggie sandwiches, and we’ll give her a strip of walk-away faken

bacon.”

“Oh! Canadian bacon?”

“No, that’s still meat. Ours is made with organic vegetables.”

“Seems unfair that I get real bacon but a vegetarian gets faken bacon.”

“That’s just the way it is.” He waved his hand in a sweeping motion. “It’s called 

walk-away bacon, so you should be walking away.” He grinned. “See you Thursday.”

Being an Old Guy

When I see a photo of myself I see an old guy. The thing is I don’t feel like an old person. Yes, I have aches and pains, but I attribute that to years of activity with some injuries. Inside I don’t feel old, I feel tested, well tested but with that comes some level of achievement. 

     My mind is sharp, even though I forget a few things I’m still capable. There must be another word to use when referring to someone who has lived many years. Senior is one I’ve heard but that doesn’t tell the whole story. There is a toughness that comes with age. But also a calmness knowing that everything will be okay. An old person is not trying to impress, convince or change anyone. Old people are comfortable in their own skin, so don’t give them advice just listen to their stories. Who knows you could learn something.

     Maybe old is the right word. There just needs to be a better definition. Old is weathered, resilient, determined, tested, and approved. They’ve been there and done that, and know what’s worth doing again. Technology can confuse them but if the Internet was switched off, old guys would be the survivors. “Just Saying . . .”

Marathon Dumbass

Travel is fun, but exhausting. My name is Chad O’Connor, and my experiences prove people are kind and helpful, but is it because you have money and contribute to their income? What would it be like if you were hopelessly lost, without any money? Basically, a homeless person in a foreign country, where you don’t know anyone or speak the language. 

It’s a frightening thought, but it could happen. And it did to me on a river cruise down the Danube, the first full day of touring Budapest. The cruise director told us to be back on the ship no later than 10:00 pm because the boat would be leaving at 11:00. Under no circumstances would they hold up departure if you were late. I thought to myself. No problem. Most people on the ship take a guided tour, but I wanted something more authentic. A chance to experience the people and life without a guide. Really how hard could it be? The only requirement was to be back on the ship by 10:00. Besides, I had a plan, although a little ambitious, but I would have twelve hours, piece of cake. 

I walked off the ship with confidence. Truly, my confidence was spilling out of me like a waterfall. 

My first stop, a bakery to get a strudel. What a great way to start my day, I bought three. - apple, poppy seed and cottage cheese chocolate. They were all amazing as you might expect, but my favorite was the cottage cheese chocolate. Not the lumpy cottage cheese you get in the US. After gorging on these delightful strudels, I took a bus to see the parliament building, an architectural wonder. Unfortunately, the bus got stuck in traffic on the bridge. This delay cost me an hour. After spending another hour taking photos of the parliament building, I headed over to Central Cafe & Bar, a well-known spot where writers congregate. It’s a great place to get a bite to eat and just past lunch, so maybe getting a table would be easy. After a thirty minute wait the waitress seated me at a table on the terrace. I enjoyed a leisurely meal, but time was ticking away so I needed to move on, 3:00 was approaching. The tram took me to the market to experience how the locals shop, and taste what they eat. As expected, it took longer than I planned, everything I did took longer. My first mistake was getting off the tram at the wrong location. I got back on, but passed up my stop on the second try, so I just walked. The market proved to be interesting. Glad I made time to see it, but now I was really late. 

Almost 7:00 and I wanted to have just a taste of the Hungarian nightlife, so I stopped at a local spot called A38 Boat. The nightclub was on the river, and so I figured my cruise ship couldn’t be that far away. Uber would be my transportation back to the ship. Great food and watching the locals party made the time fly. Before I knew, it was 9:00 so I asked for my bill, but when the waitress returned, I discovered my wallet with my money, credit card and ship ID was gone. Now I was freaking out. The clock said 9:10 pm and I was without any money to pay my bill or an Uber driver. 

My panic must have shown because, Dimitri, the guy at the next table asked what was wrong. I explained my situation, and he came to my rescue by paying my bill. What a lifesaver, but my troubles weren’t over. I still needed to get back to the ship. I left the nightclub at 9:30 pm. I checked the GPS on my phone for the ship's location. An hour and a half walk to get there, which meant I could make it 11:00 pm, departure time. I hoped that if I arrived before the boat departed, they would let me board. Since I was marathon runner, I took off running toward the ship. I watched as Dimitri, my Hungarian savior passed me in a car. He recognized me and waved as he flew by. Running as fast as possible I could see the ship was finally in sight. This inspired me to run faster, but as I got closer, I could see the ramp had been pulled and the boat was moving. By the time I reached the ship, it was sailing down the river. 

Discouraged and frustrated, I sat on the dock with my head drooping. I took out my phone and suddenly realized that I had loaded my credit cards on my phone. Had I been thinking clearly, I could have taken an Uber and paid with a credit card on my phone. “What a dumbass!”

Should I call to cancel my credit cards? If I did that I wouldn’t be able to use the credit cards in the wallet on my phone. Not doing it risked the chance of multiple charges against my card from a stranger. What a predicament! Ultimately, I decided to leave it open and deal with the issue after I was safe and secure at my home. There wasn’t much of a chance that I would run into more generous people like Dimitri. so I would have to pay my own way.

Time now approached 1:00 am and an all-night café seemed to be the best place to go to allow me some time to sort things out while sipping a hot cup of coffee. I stumbled into a café called Extra Budapest. Perfect, thanks to my screwup I would be getting extra Budapest. I ordered a bottomless cup of coffee and sat at a corner table to plan my escape. The waitress was kind enough to get me a pen and paper after I told her my story. I sat there for four hours, dozing off on occasion, only awakened by the drunken patrons entering the café. I wrote down a list of things I needed before my trip to the next town. The waitress offered some direction on where to buy the stuff at a more reasonable price than a typical tourist might pay. I left the café a little after 6 am. I decided to walk since my experience on the bus and tram had led to delays.

The next town the ship docked would be Bratislava, two and a half hours away. But before I made arrangements to travel there, I needed the items on the list. My first stop, to get a change of clothes, phone charger, and personal care products at the shop recommended. Lucky for me, this shop had everything on the list. My purchases also included a backpack. I looked like a well-organized traveler. Ha! Looks are deceiving.

Getting something to eat was a priority but not a fancy leisurely meal. Something quick so I picked up a breakfast sandwich from a street vendor. One of the most popular breakfast sandwiches was the Korean Egg Drop sandwich. I must admit it wouldn’t have been my first choice, but it came highly recommended. So, what the hell! Fluffy eggs, melted cheese, tangy mayo on toasted brioche. Nothing seemed out of whack with it. I ordered one. It was so delicious so I ordered a second.

I went to a nearby park and started a search for an Uber driver willing to drive me to Bratislava. 

My stomach was a little upset, probably from the stress of travel, and I guarantee my trip brought on a way more stress than a typical one. After an hour of searching, I found a driver who agreed to take me there. His name was Edwardo, but I’m sure I would pay dearly for his generous nature. He would be by in a half hour. Yippee! Things are looking brighter. Damn! My stomach is churning. No doubt my stress must be peaking, unless it’s that second sandwich, the delicious Korean Egg Drop sandwich. I wondered if they actually dropped the egg. It did seem a little gritty. . . pepper, that was the pepper. No! I’m sure it’s fine. It’s just stress.

I decided to run to the bathroom before my driver arrived. I didn’t want to delay him with a bathroom stop. I quick stepped to the men’s room. There was a line. Really? There’s never a line for the men’s room. Third in line, bouncing and dancing as I waited. Finally, I got in. The relief was needed. Yep, definitely the sandwich, that gritty but tasty egg-drop sandwich. I walked out and exhaled. “Yeah! Definitely the sandwich.” That bathroom stop took longer than I expected. My phone jingled as I hurried back to the meeting point for the Uber driver. I had a message from him. He was pissed that I hadn’t shown up. Oh! No! 

I quickly texted him and delicately explained my situation. Thankfully, I was able to convince him to return but I used up all my favors.

Edwardo the Uber driver picked me up, and we left for Bratislava around 11:00 am. We had a few unscheduled stops on the way due to my weakened condition, but the most concerning problem was unexpected. Edwardo hit a curb on one of the bathroom stops and blew the front tire. Now a flat tire is not a tragedy unless you’re without a spare. Well, guess what? No spare. We were at a rest stop, one without a gas station. So, we spent an hour negotiating with other drivers to buy their spare. We finally got one from a guy after paying a ridiculous amount of money for a half-worn donut spare. We changed the tire but, in the process, I scraped my knuckles raw when the tire iron slipped off the lug nut. Edwardo finished the tire installation while I picked the pebbles out of my skin and wrapped my hand with a shop rag he had in his trunk. We lost an hour and a half with this stop before we were back on the road. This was sure to be an expensive stop.

We arrived at Bratislava on the dock at 2:45 pm with five hours to spare before the boarding time. I gave Edwardo a big tip since he went out of his way to get me there on time. He let me keep the shop rag. Such empathy!

My ship the Avalon Impression, was docked next to a Viking ship. I had to pass through the Viking ship to board mine. When I entered the Avalon, I explained my situation to the young girl, Karla, at the reception desk.

“So your name is Chad O’Connor and you’re claiming you belong on this ship, but you have no identification. Is that correct?”

“Yes, in a way. Actually, I do have a passport but it’s in my room in the safe.” I shrugged. “If you could open the safe, I could show you.”

“That’s impossible, sir. Privacy laws . . . you know.”

“I understand, but the passport is my proof.”

“Well, all I can say is the real Chad O’Connor has left the ship for a city tour that was scheduled to return at noon. Unfortunately for you, he chose to spend a little more time in the city.” 

I held my hand up to stop her conversation. “Excuse me. I’m the real Chad O’Connor which you would know if you looked at my passport.”

“Well! O’Connor is a pretty common name. There could be more than one in Budapest.” Karla picked up a pen. “By the way, I do not have a copy of Chad O’Connor’s passport on file so checking it is not possible. The ship leaves at 9:00 pm, so he’ll have to be back on board an hour earlier. Maybe you can catch him when he returns.”

“Great, can I wait here?”

“No, I’m sorry sir but you’re not a registered passenger. You’ll need to wait on shore.”

“Thanks, this has been special.”

“Always happy to help our customers . . . Oh! Wait! You’re not a customer.” Karla smiled.

I begrudgingly left. It was 3:30 pm. No decent coffee shop by the dock, so I walked to a nearby café. I had no idea what the other Chad O’Connor looked like, but I was close enough to see people enter the ship. I grabbed a to-go cup and walked back to the dock. I couldn’t wait until the last minute to go to the reception desk and ask about O’Connor, so I sat on a nearby bench by the ramp. My view there was much better than the café.

It was only a few hours later when I thought I recognized Dimitri, the nightclub hero. What a surprise, but the bigger surprise was the Nolan Arenado Cardinal jersey he wore. Ironically, I’d brought that very same jersey with me. I left it in my room. Well, it was, but now I grew suspicious that my buddy Dimitri was wearing it. What were the odds that Dimitri owned the same jersey? Nada. Zilch. Not a chance. I followed him on the ship but lost him when he passed through the Viking ship. I had found the other Chad.

I was able to sneak onto the Avalon ship with a crowd of people, then started searching for Dimitri. Looking around on the top deck, I saw him go below; I followed, but he moved fast. The next time I spotted him, he had returned to the Viking ship. He motioned to me, then opened his hands like a wallet and mouthed, lost and found. At first, I didn’t understand then I realized he was telling me to go to the lost and found. I hustled down to the reception desk on the first level. Ugh! Karla was there.

I tried to get the attention of the other the young girl behind the desk, but Karla interrupted. I pretended not to recognize her.  “Excuse me. Where is your lost and found?”

“What did you lose?” Karla asked.

“My wallet.” 

“I feel like we’ve met before.” She pulled out a box. 

I shrugged. “I’m sure you’ve seen me around the ship.”

“Seems more significant than that.” Looking through the box, she pulled out a wallet. . . My wallet.

“That’s it. Thank you so much.” I held my hand out.

“Not so fast.” She opened the wallet. “Chad O’Connor!” She nodded in

affirmation. "Now, I remember. The O’Connor brothers, real and fake.”

“I’m the real Chad O’Connor. My driver’s license will be in there.”

She checked the photo on the license. Held it up to my face. “I don’t know. This guy doesn’t have a beard.” She laughed. 

I dropped my head. “I haven’t shaved in a couple of days, and I have a heavy beard.” 

“Hmm!.” She squinted as she looked at my photo. “I guess this is your lucky day Mr. Chad O’Connor. It was turned in just a few minutes ago.”

“Thank you very much. You don’t know how much I appreciate this.”

“Oh! I have a pretty good idea.” She said, handing it to me. “I’m so glad I could be of assistance.”

I immediately opened it and found everything inside except for a few missing dollars, 

but there was also a note. I headed to my room to clean up. When I got in my cabin I flopped

down on the chair and read the note.

Chad

First, I must apologize for not picking you up when I passed you in the car, but I was going to your ship to be you for a couple of days. I hope you enjoyed your extended visit to the city. I certainly had a wonderful time on the ship. All experiences are valuable, but I hope yours was joyful as well.

To repay you for the inconvenience I’ve included a gift card for dinner at a very fine restaurant in Vienna. My compliments, but no need to thank me, because I used your money to pay for the gift card. Please thank yourself and enjoy a great meal at Georgio’s. Make your reservations early because as you already know the ship waits for no one.

Dimitri, the other Chad 

I should have been furious, but Dimitri’s exposé of the events was done with such flair that I will have to list this as one of my greatest adventures. I almost think I should thank him for the experience.

That night after dinner, the cruise director gave us a rundown of the next day’s events. She also had an unexpected announcement. “Last night we had a singing contest and tonight we will present a bottle of champagne to the winner-none other than Chad (the other) O’Connor. Will the real Chad O’Connor come up to accept his prize for the other Chad?” I laughed as I stood and went up to accept the gift bottle of champagne.

She handed me the bottle and said. “Congratulations, from one Chad to the other.”

“Thanks, I don’t deserve this.”

“You’re right you don’t.” Everyone laughed. “I have one more thing for you . . . a package arrived.” She handed it to me. 

I opened the box. It was my Nolan Arenado jersey with a hand-printed sign “Go Cards.”

I jumped up and yelled, “Best trip ever!”

Ring my bell, ring my bell

This was the name of a popular song in 1979. But my post isn’t about the song, it’s about the bell. If you have grandkids you know they set the rules. There are trivial things to us that are important to them. One is ringing the doorbell. A visit from your grandkids is important for you and them, but it starts with the ringing the bell. 

     Nowadays, we know when visitors are coming before they reach the porch, because most every house has a camera watching their entrance. Kids like to ring the doorbell. They don’t want you to come to the door before the ring. In fact, it’s disappointing to them if you open the door without the ring. As an adult this seems silly, but what’s important to young kids is different than what you deem important. Ringing the doorbell is a simple thing, but it rates high on their list of priorities. 

     If you have more than one grandchild, it’s fun to watch them race each other to the door to push the doorbell. So, no mater how anxious you are to see them, wait to answer the door until you hear the bell. Little things can be important to the little people. “Just Saying . . .”

Looking for easy money

Have you noticed all the ads on television for personal Injury lawyers? The ads run daily so they must generate business. There’s are at least five or six law firms with commercials about personal injury lawsuits. They all claim how easy it is to sue the insurance company for just about anything related to your accident or injury. I mean, I get that you have a right to recover your loss through a lawsuit, but the ad gives the impression that it’s a way to get rich. 

     Is a fender bender justification for a lawsuit? We used to call these lawyers ambulance chasers. I totally understand that if you have an injury from an accident a lawsuit may be the only way to recover financially, but these ads paint a different picture. It almost sounds like breaking a fingernails justifies a two hundred thousands dollar payout. No need to work when you can sue your way to riches.

     These companies tout how easy it is. Just pick up the phone, no need to go into their office, no money required. If you don’t get paid they don’t get paid. It seems too easy and it’s appealing, but is it right? It’s an entitlement issue, something that’s been engrained in our brain. Do we have the right to profit just because we can sue without a financial risk. I can’t give you a blanket answer because each case is different, but the ads are swarmy and target our desire to get rich. 

     All I’m saying is we need a vehicle to recover for injuries which is why these companies exist, but abusing their service to gain riches should not be the goal. “Just Saying . . .”

Challenge every Expert

It seems there’s always an article written by an expert that someone is quoting to support their beliefs. We all need information from a knowledgeable person when we are searching for truth. But what makes the writer of the article an expert? I guess the answer would be that they have extensive knowledge on the subject with many years of document studies. Does that mean you should take their word on the subject without question? Not necessarily. Is there belief based on hard data or emotional charged stories?

     The internet is filled with many experts, and they have many opinions, but they may also have pre-conceived opinions which could sway their judgement. I’m sure you’ve seen or heard about the experts in courtroom settings who have totally different opinions. Which one is right? Well, in that case it depends on which side of the courtroom you sit. It’s the same with every other expert opinion. Which is why I say, challenge every expert. Put their advice under a spotlight or microscope. They may speak with authority but even though it’s written down doesn’t make it a fact. “Just Saying . . .”

The International Language

Yesterday, I was out on the deck cooking bacon on the Weber grill. It leaves the mess outside and the bacon cooks up great. It just so happens that the next door neighbors were getting a new roof. The roofers, all Mexicans, were hard at work next door when I clearly heard one of them say, “Smell the bacon”. Often the crew has only one worker who speaks fluent English. Funny thing is that I’ll bet they all knew the smell of bacon and understood those words.

     I laughed out loud and thought most guys, no matter where they are from recognize the smell of bacon. It made me think that some phrases or words are simply understood on an international level. Obviously guys around the world understand the word ‘bacon’. It’s a connective word that brings men together. 

     So what other words have the same reaction. Another word that I suspect would have the same reaction is ‘beer’. Most men will understand the phrase “Hold my beer” and know what will follow that statement. I’m sure there are more of these common phrases but these I believe are the two strongest contenders. 

     It’s interesting that we are connected by these common words, but disconnected in many others ways. Maybe we should concentrate on the simple pleasures of life. “Just Saying . . . “

     

The Key - Final Part

Since it was Saturday, I slept in the next morning. We had no plans. Well, that’s what I

thought, but my wife had other ideas. 

“Hurry up and shower. We’ll get breakfast on the way.”

“Where are we going?”

“It’s my second wish. To find you a hobby.”

“I have a hobby, watching sports.”

“That’s not a hobby. It’s an addiction.” She waved her finger. “Something without a

sportscaster giving play-by-play reports.”

“Sounds like you need a hobby.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll find you something.”

“But I am worried.”

We drove around all day investigating hobbies that could become my passion.

Woodworking, 3D printing, engraving, photography and painting were just a few and of those

I was leaning toward woodworking, but I’d grown fond of my fingers. We stopped for a late 

lunch at a wine bar and cafe. We ordered and chatted as we waited for our food. A guy with a

guitar walked in and sat down in the front. He started playing a few tunes, old stuff, what I call

good music.

I said to my wife’ “Let’s stop at a music store. I think I might want to try out a guitar.”

“That sounds like a wonderful idea. You can learn to play, and I’ll sing.”

“Hold on Kelly Clarkson. Don’t get ahead of yourself. I’m just checking them out.”

“I know, I know, finish your sandwich so we can go.”

I finished quickly and we drove to Music City Guitar. Terry was all about the shape

and the curves of the guitar, while I asked a lot of questions. The salesman played well and

answered all of my concerns. He was patient as I tried half a dozen guitars. He explained the

differences in the acoustic and electric guitars, while I caressed their smooth lines, sniffed the

polished mahogany. These guitars were truly pieces of art that could be displayed like a Picasso.

That’s when I decided this was what I wanted to do in my spare time, but now I just needed to

choose a guitar. 

“What do you think?” I asked Terry, but I really didn’t need her opinion because I

decided I wanted a mid-priced one, not too expensive but not cheap. I ended up spending $800,

but my guitar sounded great, and it was comfortable almost familiar to hold and most 

importantly a beautiful instrument, which made Terry happy. The salesman threw in some song

books and told me about in-house lessons at Music City and the online lessons available on 

YouTube.

I spent the rest of the night playing my guitar. Calling it playing might be a stretch, but

I’m sticking with those words. Two wishes down, one to go.

* * * 

“My third wish is for my mom. She lives alone and I know she gets lonely.” Terry took

the car keys off the hook. “I think she needs a companion. A dog or a cat might be the perfect

choice.” 

“That’s a good idea, but they require a lot of patience and time to train and care for

them.” I suggested to my wife. “What about a young adult dog that has been potty trained instead

of a puppy. Sometimes pet stores have dogs that have been returned, because they were a wrong

fit for the person. These stores will re-home the dogs with a new owner.” 

Terry thought that was a reasonable idea. So, with that in mind we went pet shopping.

We stopped at four pet shops, two had pets they re-homed, but the dogs they had were too large.

We didn’t want to get an animal that would knock her down when playing or pull her arms out of 

the sockets when she walked it.

On our way to the Humane Society, we stopped to get an ice cream and discuss what we

were going to do. I explained that getting a dog or cat today wasn’t absolutely necessary as long

as we narrow it down to what kind of animal would be compatible with her personality. 

“Well, she’s kind of snarky.” 

“Yes, kinda like you.” I laughed. “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

Terry frowned. “Yes, but I’m funny snarky.”

“Yes dear, you’re hysterical.”

The Humane Society was only few blocks from the ice cream shop. We parked and

walked to the entrance. Terry was hopeful we’d find a pet there. We spent the last few days

fulfilling my wife’s wish list, and I was ready to get back to my new hobby. 

Thankfully, they had two dogs and one cat that fit our requirements. All the animals here

could be adopted. I roamed around looking at the animals while Terry played with a 

terrier.  I noticed an animal that you rarely see up for adoption. It was a parrot, so I asked about

it. There was a sign on the cage with the name, Billy Bob.  I thought that was an odd name, but

it made me chuckle. I said, “Good morning, Billy Bob.” And to my surprise he had an unusual

answer.

“Squawk, take me home I’m a used parrot.”

I laughed. One of the employees was standing nearby so I asked him about Billy Bob.

“Is this parrot up for re-homing?”

            “Those terms don’t really apply to Billy Bob since this is the fourth time this parrot has

been placed with a family so we’re calling him used.” The worker straightened the sign on the

parrot’s cage. “But, yes he is available to take home.”

“Wow, four times. Is there a problem with this parrot?”

He tapped on the cage. “This bird is a highly intelligent, an independent thinker and has a

large vocabulary. He is the only parrot we have, an African Grey. We rarely have any because

they are expensive, and most people pass them down to their children.” He gave the bird some

nuts. “But to answer your question. All animals need care and some like a racehorse require

special care, but the rewards you receive far outweigh any effort you make.”

“Hmm! That’s interesting. Can he hold a conversation with someone?”

The worker said, “Oh! Yes. This bird will talk your ear off.”

“Is Billy Bob a clean bird?”

“Yes, he is normally, unless he’s upset.”

“I’m going to talk to my wife, I’ll be right back. Don’t give him to anyone.”

Not much chance of that. He said under his breath then smiled. “Certainly, I’ll put a hold

on him.”

I went to talk to Terry about Billy Bob, as a pet for her mother. She was intrigued and

agreed to come over and look at him.

Terry walked up to the cage and said, “Oh1 He’s a beautiful bird.” 

“Squawk, thank you sweet one” Billy Bob fluffed his wings. “You’re a tasty treat.” 

“Well, aren’t you a flirty bird?”

I laughed. “You have an admirer.”

“Tell me Billy Bob, would you like to come home with me?”

“I’ll follow you anywhere . . . Squawk.”

The banter went back and forth. I took the time to check with the guy helping us to find

out what we needed to do to take Billy Bob home with us.

He said, “Just the adoption application and a waiver.” He pulled the paperwork from a

folder. “It’s all standard stuff.”

“What’s the waiver for?”

“By signing it, you assume responsibility for the parrot.” He held the papers up.

“Standard stuff as I said before.” 

I took the forms and tapped Terry on the shoulder. “I have the paperwork. What do you

want to do?”

“Well, I just think he’s adorable. Perfect for my mom.”

“A parrot is an unusual pet. I just want you to be sure before we take him home.” I

scratched my head. “Do you think we should ask your mom? She’s expecting a dog or cat. A

parrot might be a shock.”

“I don’t see anything to worry about. He’ll be less trouble than a puppy.” She patted me

on the shoulder. “Fill out the paperwork, while I talk to Billy Bob.”

I completed the forms, and we walked out with the bird and a list of instructions for his

care. “Are we dropping him off tonight?” I bumped the cage on the door as I set it in the back

seat.

“Squawk! Easy, junior, I’m breakable.”

Terry took the paperwork. “I thought we’d wait till tomorrow, then I can spend

time with mom, so she can become used to her new pet.” Terry clasped her hands. “This is so

exciting. I can’t wait for her to meet Billy Bob. It will be magical.”

“Not sure about that, but I know it will be memorable.”

“Squawk . . . I’ll drive.”

I laughed. “Not today, Billy Bob.” I started the car and drove out of the parking lot.

As we entered the roundabout, the parrot squealed. “Watch out for that car.”

“No worries, I got this.”

Billy Bob squawked, “You’re going too fast. Slow down.”

“Wow. Terry, it seems like he’s been trained by you.”

“Ha! Very funny, but he’s right.” Terry smiled. “Mom drives way too fast, so if she takes

Billy Bob in the car, he can keep her in line.” 

“Not sure about that, but I agree she drives her car like it’s stolen.”

The bird squawked, fluffed his wings, picked at the cage and whistled. 

“He’s a noisy ass bird.” I shook my head.

“I think he’s cute.”

“Let’s hope your mom does too.” 

Terry spent the rest of the evening entertaining Billy Bob, while I tried to watch the ball

game. We found out the best way to silence the bird was to put a cover over his cage. Something

that will be helpful for Terry’s mom to know.

Early the next morning we took Billy Bob over to Betty’s, Terry’s mom. As expected, she

was surprised but intrigued as well. Billy Bob squawked out orders and snippy comments, but

Betty was feisty and stood toe-to-toe with his snarky retorts. We spent the better part of the day

there and went over the care and feeding requirements for a parrot. When it was time to leave, I

casually mentioned to Betty that if she didn’t feel comfortable, we could take him and rehome

him with someone else. 

Betty said, “No, he’ll be fine. I just need to teach him my way,”

As we started to walk to the door. Billy Bob squawked. “Are you leaving me with this old

biddy?”

Betty answered. “This old lady is the one who’s going to feed you. Think about that.”

“Wish granted.” Terry turned to me and whispered. “A match made in heaven.”

“We’ll, this was an interesting couple of days.” I smiled. “I wonder who sent the key?”

“Hmm! We may never know. It’s a crazy world out there.” Terry shrugged.

“I know it wasn’t me.” I picked up my guitar.

“Of course not, dear.”

The Key - Part 2

We pulled into the post office parking lot and I handed the key to Terry. “You check.

I’m done.” For me this whole thing was just one big waste of time. She took the key and jumped

out of the car. I turned the radio on and zoned out, not expecting any better news than we had

 earlier in the day.

A couple minutes later Terry walked out with a medium size cardboard box in her hands

and a huge smile on her face. She opened the car door and said, “I told you.”

“How come you didn’t open it?”

“I’m waiting until we get home.” She couldn’t keep from smiling. “This is so much fun.”

As I pulled into the garage, Terry had opened the car door ready to jump out as soon as

we stopped. She ran inside with the box. By the time I got in the house, the packing was strewn

all over kitchen floor.

“What is it?” I anxiously asked.

“You won’t believe it.” She stared intensely and seemed to be mesmerized by it’s

contents.

I stepped across the kitchen to take a peek. “Hmm! Looks like something from Pier One.

They carry all those hard-to-find gifts that no one ever buys.” 

“Magnificent!” She carefully removed it and set it on the table. “It’s old.”

“No. It’s made to look old.” I crossed my arms. “Of course, this makes perfect sense. I

should have guessed.”

Terry held it up like a trophy. “How many wishes do you think we’ll get?”

“Oh! You think it’s a magic lamp like Aladdin’s.”

“Well, look at it. What else could it be?”

“Decoration for some gypsy’s house.” I smirked. “Go ahead, rub it to see what happens.”

“Okay, I will.” Terry closed her eyes as if that would make a difference and gently

rubbed the lamp while waiting for a genie to appear.

I twirled around, snapped my fingers and said “Poof!” I bowed and said, “I’m Harvey,

your genie. You have three wishes my dear. Use them wisely.”

“Harvey? That’s a terrible name for a genie.”

“Careful, I can make it two.”

“No. No. I apologize. Harvey, is a great name.” Terry curtsied.

I nodded. “What is your first wish, my dear?”

“My first wish is for me. Help me be authentic, generous and spontaneous. I want to

travel to Paris in a private jet and have an elegant dinner prepared by celebrity chef, Gordon

Ramsay.”

“Whoa! You might be confused as to what one wish includes. First of all, we don’t make

changes to your personality. Being authentic, generous and spontaneous doesn’t qualify as

a valid wish. The Paris thing in a private jet and the elegant dinner prepared by Gordan Ramsay

is over the top. Pick one and don’t be greedy!”

“Okay, so sorry. How about an elegant dinner at my home prepared by my celebrity genie

Harvey?”

“Now you’re talkin’. Your wish is granted.”

“Great. When is it? Tonight.? What are we having? Seafood please.”

“Hold on. Give me a minute. You just finished wishing.”

“I know, but I need to put it in my planner, now.”

‘Hmm! It’s a shame patience is a personality change.”

“What about my second wish?”

“Oh! You want to do them all today? I thought you might want to wait on the other two.”

“No, I know what I want. My second wish is for my husband. He hardly works and has a

lot of spare time. Help me find him a hobby.”

“Do you mean he works hard?”

“No, I said what I said.”

“Okay then. That is still a generous wish. It is granted.”

“So, what’s his hobby?”

“You’ll have to wait and see. Be patient. You know what that is, right?”

“My third wish is for my mom. She lives alone, and I’m afraid she may get lonely, so I

want her to have a companion she can trust who could also entertain her in an annoying way.”

“Excellent idea. She does like sarcastic humor. This is also a very generous wish. You

seem to be very authentic. Your wish is granted.

I’ll be leaving now but let me know how things worked out.”

“How will I get a hold of you?” Terry asked.

“Just whistle. You know how to do that, right?”

She smiled. “Yes, put your lips together and blow.” Terry sauntered off, tilted her head

and flipped her hair in my direction.

I touched my rear with two fingers, pretended to blow out the flames, then gave her a two

fingered wave as I left the kitchen. 

* * * 

Later that night I was making dinner, a casual no frills meal, when my wife walked in.

“Oh! Dinner.” Terry leaned over and sniffed. “Do I need to get dressed?”

“You are dressed.”

Terry put her hands on her hips. “No. I mean in my fancy clothes?”

“You can. It’s up to you.”

She put her hands together. “Oh! What are we having?”

I held up a tasting spoon. “Hot dogs and beans.”

“That’s not fancy.”

“We’ve got cloth napkins.”

 “You were supposed to make me an elegant dinner.” Terry frowned and crossed her

arms. “It was my first wish.”

“I know, but it’s tomorrow night. I never said it was tonight.” I picked up a ladle. “Hey,

you’ll want some beans with your hot dog. They have some big bacon chunks in them.”

“Well, sure and no reservations needed.”

I took off work the next day so I could immerse myself in the preparation of the elegant

meal for my wife. The market had all the essential ingredients I needed which included the 

appetizer, salad, main course and dessert. I bought them all plus a chef’s hat which I had

embroidered with Chef Harvey across the top. It was the perfect addition to my outfit. 

It was a fun evening. My wife was all dolled up in her finest dress with color coordinated

shoes and purse. I grabbed the best sweatshirt that I could find from the clean basket ironed it.

Yay for me. “Why did you bring your purse? You know I won’t be charging you.”

“I know, but it completes the outfit.” Terry held her purse up to show me. “Your outfit is

perfect. That red sweatshirt really sets off your bloodshot eyes.”

“Thanks for noticing.” I smiled. “Tonight, our appetizer comes to you direct from Chile,

jumbo shrimp sautéed in white wine with green chiles. Tender and tangy but delightful.” I set the

plates on the table and snapped a napkin then laid it on Terry’s lap. 

“Wow, this looks really good.”

“Thanks, it was the best frozen appetizer Schnucks carried.” 

“Woohoo! Aren’t I special.”

We sat and talked while we dined on the shrimp. “You know jumbo shrimp is one of

those descriptions that shouldn’t be.”

Terry took a bite. “Yes. I agree. Maybe we should refer to them as extremely robust.”

“I like that. From now on we’ll call them robust shrimp.” I stood and walked to the

counter to get the salads I previously prepared. As I set Terry’s bowl in front of her, she picked

up a fork and scooped out a crouton.

“What kind of salad is this?”

“Oh! This is a Harvey salad. It’s like a Ceasar salad only different.”

“How is it different?”

“Well it’s made by Harvey instead of Ceasar.”

“Sounds wonderful.”

We sat and leisurely enjoyed our Harvey salads. I explained our main course requires

special handling and special equipment. I went to the garage and brought in a fire extinguisher,

and set it on the table.

“Well, this should be interesting.”

“Yes, I think I can guarantee that.” I rolled a cart over to the table containing a

portable burner to pan fry the steak. “Tonight, we are having Steak Diane. The final step in the

preparation is to light the cognac which will burn off the alcohol. Hence, the fire extinguisher.”

“Yummy and who is Diane?”

“It’s just the name of the dish. I don’t know the history of it. For tonight let’s call it

Steak Terry.” 

“I love that!”

I was pleased to serve the steaks without any mishaps. They looked delicious. I hoped 

they tasted half as good.

Terry took a bite. “The steak is very tender . . . Is it supposed to taste like lighter fluid?”

“It is not.” I bent over to smell the steak. “Does yours taste like lighter fluid?”

“No, but you put something in that portable burner.”

“Butane, it’s odorless and tasteless.”

“You would only know that if you tasted it. Did you?”

“No, butane is not a regular part of my diet.” I smiled. “No, really, how is your steak?”

“It’s terrific.” Terry giggled. “I love Steak Butane.” 

I rolled my eyes. Once we finished the main course, I went to get the dessert. “Tonight,

we will be having Gordan Ramsay’s favorite dessert, Sticky Toffee Pudding.”

“Oh! That sounds wonderful.” Terry smacked her lips.

“I watched a YouTube video. The whole process only took ten minutes.”

“Wow! How long did it take you?”

“Huh!”  I shrugged. “Twenty, then eighteen, then finally seventeen.”

“You cooked three batches.”

“Well, I had to make sure they tasted good.”

“And did they?”

“See for yourself.” I set the dessert plates on the table each adorned with a chocolate

covered strawberry”.

“It looks delicious.” Terry took a bite. “Wow, this is terrific.”

“Thank you, sweetie.” I winked. “So, how was your first wish?”

“I couldn’t ask for more. You’re the best, Chef Harvey.” Terry took another bite of the

pudding. “Tomorrow, is my second wish.”

* * *