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Story Time

FrancSevin said:
Gary, You ain't exactly Santa Claus, more like a grumpy grampa,,,;
Click to expand...
Along those lines, I made some Christmas cards to send to my buds (with kids)

6cpR0tM.jpg
 
A more recent Christmas memory;

Seems after Halloween the Christmas stuff goes up around our town

Not sure what happened to Thanksgiving....

anyway

Tis the season

I have a habit of observing
then
jotting down the events as recalled


Went to town

Stopped at McDonalds

Walked in (drive thru was jammed)
Ordered a McCoffee
Stood back in order purgatory away from the ever growing line of pseudo-beefcravers

Frantic place

Pre diabetic saccharinated preschoolers zipping from the play room to the McToilet and back.
Young McMuthers, with old eyes, trying to keep track, chasing with sanitized wipes.

The McManager is a tad over the top.
Too happy
Worn out smile
No longer actually sees individuals, just the herd.
He’ll prolly go home a couple hours after his shift, trudge up the stairs to his apartment, throw his bills on the kitchen table, sit, open his McBrick burger with stale fries, and stare....at his gun.

The trainee is doing her best to remain in the flow, the running of the McBulls.

The old hand, been there forever (two months), instinctively stabs at a handful of tiny Heinz ketchup packets for the lacking customer in the emergency queue.

An old man, squinting at the menu board, trying to decide on which delicacy would be optimal in regard to his budget and digestive tract while the assistant manager idles in high gear, eyes darting.

Good coffee

No need for a refill

Made my way to the Ronald McDonald house of poop.
Left a rather significant obstacle in McStall number 2....fitting.
Noticed the auto flush was still struggling with it as I administered a papal blessing to the McAuto faucet.

My work is done here.

Outside, three McTrainees are by the dumpster, huffing down cigarettes, texting, eyeballing the time.

I am happy

For McRetirement
 
I do not generally go to McDonald's. Except for a coffee and use of the restroom.

For that they are a prime place.
Ignore the mayhem & git 'er done.

However, I am told that Santa will be putting McKIE "D" coupons in the "little one's" stocking because she likes the "Happy Meal."
Maddie. with five years of wisdom, never eats the burger, that's grandpa's problem.

Just the fries
And ketchup
and a toy

Thanks Santa!!!
Curiously, if you rearrange the letters in Santa is spells Satan.
Jus' sayin'

Merry Christmas!
 
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Been awhile
Where'd the year go......

anyway;

This song was requested by an ancient lady we came to know several decades ago
We first saw her trudging down the sidewalk, pulling a small shopping cart

Huge overcoat
Tennis shoes
Baseball cap

Had to be pushing a 100 yrs

The sign on her cart read RIDE NEEDED

We had to stop
Took her a few miles to a street
She asked to let her out
Told her we could take her home
No

Did this a few times

Finally she let us take her home
One room shack
A bit of a hoarder
Her 'bed' was a wooden pallet and some blankets

Took her home a few times
Got to know her
Quite charming
Was a school teacher (if I remember right)
Never married

Asked her one summer evening, as we sat on her porch, what she desired in life

Just one thing
'To hear the song I Wonder as I Wander one more time'
She told us a story about the song (can't remember the story now)
Anyway, we found a cassette tape of it
Played it for her
Really touched her
Us too

Decided to leave the cassette for her....and the player

Brought her over for thanksgiving
What a delight

Wasn't long after that we didn't see her anymore
Her shack was empty
Put an empty place in our hearts

Anyway, here's the song
Still inspiring to me
For you, Miss McBroom

 
Gary O' said:
I write

and for me, it's developed into a passion

I enjoy penning things of ordinary events, ordinary people

because

well

everything, everyone

is so much more than that

Let's see how this goes.....



Ribs and other Bones

There’s nothing like a good meal for a get together,
and the good meal is a barbeque.

Being a northerner that spent some years down south, I can say those boys down there know barbeque.
Ribs, fallin off the bone.
Chikin, smoked, from wood, not wunna those fancy pellet rigs, but by an ol’ guy raised in a ‘grease house’, from a pit the size of a horse trough.
Beans, I didn’t know beans could taste like that. Odd things, strange herbs, spices, homemade sauces, a bit a fat meat, marinated for hours. They were a meal all by themselves.
Tater salad…M-M-M-M, none like it.
Sweet tea, steeped in a gallon jug in the sun.
Beer, Lone Star or Falstaff, didn’t matter, both tasted like mop water from a jukejoint, but did their job of cleansing the palate for the next bite.
Sip, rib, sip, chikin, sip, beans, sip, salad, guzzle the rest.
Made ya just fall down and scream.

Houston.
Down the street, Telephone road, was wunna those grease houses.
An old black gent lived there with what seemed like three generations of family.
Everbuddie's grampa, even mine for awhile.
Everyone called him Chili.
Bib overalls, white butcher’s apron, leather baseball cap was his eternal uniform.
Had a high pitched, raspy voice, and always a smirk on his ol’ mug.
More often than not, you’d find me sittin’ at his dilapidated picnic table after work, watchin’ him toil over the pit.
Nuthin’ attractive.
Tin lean-to roof, pile of wood, ol' white fridge that made a humming sound laboring in the heat, vats and jars, brushes, large forks,
and the huge pit with a homemade steel lid, that once he was satisfied with how things were goin’ he’d drop down and come out to talk to me…..talk about stories…old day stories…..bone chilling, horrific stories.

Naw, nuthin’ attractive….. ‘cept for the rich savory aromatic fragrance emanating from that glorious pit.
I’d sit there, sweating like a pig, drool stream gathering on the table in a puddle…

‘Chili!
WTF ol’ man!?’

‘Boy, you know it’s not ready….I’ll tell ya when it’s ready.’

It was worth the wait.


Fourth of July…or as they say down there JOOOlah, everyone barbequed.
Po foke, rich foke, middle class foke, all had their pits goin’.
You couldn’t walk two steps without getting hit upside the head with the aroma of the gods.

One fourth, me and my lady were flat broke.
I’d come off a month long stint in Brownsville, inspecting oil field pipe, big job.
Tuboscope laid some folks off after that, so I volunteered for some time off myself.
Took most of June, just me and my lady…nobody else.
Ran outta money…rent was paid, car was maintained, just broke….food crumbs in the fridge, empty bottles piled in the corner of the carport below…sittin’ on the couch smokin’ a partial I’d dug outta the butt can.

‘I’m goin’ back to work.’

‘It’s the fourth.’

‘Oh’

Chili and family had gone somewhere.
It was hot.
Most neighbors had headed to Galveston.

Our guts were eatin’ guts.
Hadn’t been so hungry in a long time.
A friend invited us to a company get together.
The park was filled with heavenly flavors.
Kids, old folk, parents, all had plates heaped with goodies, goodies that tempted me to follow ‘em, floating on the fragrant waves.

We strolled over to the tables.

$3.50

$3.50??!!

I had 37 cents.

One the way back to the garage apartment I swore I’d never put myself in that position again…especially on the fourth.

I think wunneezdaze we need to head back down south for a spell.

Something about the word ‘brisket’ that just sounds savory…didn’t know what it was ‘til I landed in Texas.
Click to expand...
Amazing memories as I grew up in Telephone RD. area. To make it even more amazing is that I worked for Tuboscope for 8 years. Small world!!!!!!
 
Ross 650 said:
I worked for Tuboscope for 8 years. Small world!!!!!!
Click to expand...
WHOA!!

@Ross 650
What crew were you on?
What years?
I was with 'em in the late 60s
Remember some names?
Is Tuboscope still around?

Remember the water truck? (pressure test)
I think that crazy ol' guy killed a few folks
Nine inch pipe if I remember right
 
Last edited:
Howdy, I worked at Tuboscope in 1965 till 1972. I was the Q.C. inspector at Holmes Rd. I was responsible for all the parts that made up a unit. I lived off Belfort in those days on Joplin Street. Before that I grew up in Pecan Park. Graduated from Milby H.S. Yep, Tuboscope is still around.
 
Ross 650 said:
I lived off Belfort in those days on Joplin Street.
Click to expand...
My girlfriend's mom lived at the Belfort apts in those days

Did you ever go out on inspection sites?

I do remember one crew boss;
'Tooter'
Short little feisty guy

Some crews would screw over stacks of pipe
Just kick the stack to another stack spot (make it look like it was inspected)
Then go to the bar...drink.....kick some ass
 
Gary O' said:
Been awhile
Where'd the year go......

anyway;

This song was requested by an ancient lady we came to know several decades ago
We first saw her trudging down the sidewalk, pulling a small shopping cart

Huge overcoat
Tennis shoes
Baseball cap

Had to be pushing a 100 yrs

The sign on her cart read RIDE NEEDED

We had to stop
Took her a few miles to a street
She asked to let her out
Told her we could take her home
No

Did this a few times

Finally she let us take her home
One room shack
A bit of a hoarder
Her 'bed' was a wooden pallet and some blankets

Took her home a few times
Got to know her
Quite charming
Was a school teacher (if I remember right)
Never married

Asked her one summer evening, as we sat on her porch, what she desired in life

Just one thing
'To hear the song I Wonder as I Wander one more time'
She told us a story about the song (can't remember the story now)
Anyway, we found a cassette tape of it
Played it for her
Really touched her
Us too

Decided to leave the cassette for her....and the player

Brought her over for thanksgiving
What a delight

Wasn't long after that we didn't see her anymore
Her shack was empty
Put an empty place in our hearts

Anyway, here's the song
Still inspiring to me
For you, Miss McBroom

Click to expand...
How you been there Gary, its been a while since your last visit. Been out to the cabin lately.
 
Gary O' said:
Yeah, before the deep snows
Son is parking there tween jobs (fishing or truck driving
I miss it some....but just some
Town is pretty darn convenient
and I've got this macular degeneration thing going
I call it CSS (can't see shit)
Gettin' old is gettin' old
Click to expand...
I hear you there on the old, I haven't done much with mine the last couple of seasons, I have been so busy with work I don't have time for much. Another year and 3 months I get parole from work and will have a lot more time for me and projects
 
We have missed ya Gary).
Good to see ya.
The wife, ( AKA Crumpy here on the Forum) ask about you just the other day.


Merry Christmas
 
Ross 650 said:
Gary, did you ever go to the Santa Rosa picture show on Telephone Rd.???
Click to expand...
Don't think so

Did go to one on North Main (Mexi district) about a mile north of the bayou
Saw THE CONQUEROR WORM there, with Vincent Price
Creeped me out

And one just off the square...cheap reruns....25 cents for a couple hours of air conditioning
Back in my single/broke daze
wish I could remember the name
 
Last edited:
Before I met my lady and got cleaned up, I mostly hung in the lower sections

Mostly bars (not pubs....no, not 'pubs')

One was The Hello Bar, not far off Doweling and Webster
(Never go near Doweling and Webster, if yer a cracker)

another Tony's Bar and Grill on Main, just south of the bayou bridge
 
Gary O' said:
Don't think so

Did go to one on North Main (Mexi district) about a mile north of the bayou
Saw THE CONQUEROR WORM there, with Vincent Price
Creeped me out

And one just off the square...cheap reruns....25 cents for a couple hours of air conditioning
Back in my single/broke daze
wish I could remember the name
Click to expand...
The conqueror worm with Vincent Price, how the heck did I miss that one when I was a kid.
 
Took a lot of photos when living in the mountains

This one seems appropriate for this time of year

“When they had heard the king, they departed; and, lo, the star, which they saw in the east, went before them, till it came and stood over where the young child was.”

ivqjwbY.jpg
 
Christmas 1954
I knew what was coming….really, for once I knew.
The tree, the lights, the bubbling ones, the tinsel, the snow outside, the oil stove warming everyone (that stood smack dab on the stove),the windows adorned with Christmas icing, and….the presents.
I just took it all in, quietly, unassuming, sizing things up.
(‘Hmm, so this happens, say, every year…huh’)

I never said much for, oh, about twenty some years, and at four didn’t say anything, ever.
I cast a rather small shadow, and more than a few times got left at places. Not on purpose, but I just wasn’t much of a bother to anyone…to the point of, to some extent, non-existence.
Momforgot me at the Montgomery Wards store once.
Huge multi-storiedstore…fascinating.
She eventually came back and got me eventhough I wasn’t quite done window shopping.
I wonder how far outof the store she got, or did she get halfway home, or even home andrealize, sitting the table, that, hey, the tiny person that normallyoccupies the booster seat is not here.

I really enjoyed the anonymity.
It gave me time to take in all I could, and remain in my own thoughts.
Kids were pretty much trained to be out of sightwhen folks came over.
Ever once in a while someone would ask,

‘And what’s your name young man?’

‘Dad, it’s me, Gary.’

My sis would take my hand and guide me over to the tree, pointing out each and every glittery thing.
It was a no shit moment, but knew it made her feel good, so let it happen.

The day came.

I should say the day before came, as we traditionally opened gifts on Christmas eve.

Gramma and Grampa came down the hill to participate.
I’d say it was around6pm, as it was dark out and everybody had already eaten.
My sis played santy, handing gifts to Gramma and Grampa.
I was busy watching while trying to crack the walnuts and Brazil nuts from my stocking.
I couldn’t help but observe the fake happiness and surprise from everyone as they opened their gifts…everyone but Grampa. He was rather gruff, and had a habit of saying exactly what he thought.

‘I already have a tie.’

I loved him.
Didn’t even give much thought to that emotion back then, but now I know I loved him.

It came to be my turn to open my gifts.
Not a big trick, as my stuff was in a large sack.
It was a sack full of toys…..cars, trucks, a harmonica, and some little bags of hard candy.
The thing is, the toys were all kinda beat up, trucks with missing wheels, and everything was a bit scuffed, dented and rusty in places.
It didn’t bother me a whit. I loved it all.
But I remember the look on my Dad’s face as he watched me haul them outta the bag.
He was ashamed.
I felt like saying something comforting…but didn’t.
My feelings of making the situation even harder on him by saying ‘it’s OK’ won out.
Every Christmas after that was huge.

Funny, not haha funny, but oddly strange, my thoughts on his mental processes.
For years I rather pitied him for toiling to get us what he thought was what we wanted.
Him, the bread winner, the toy winner, the house, food and warmth provider.
How he fell head first into the American dream…the freaking nightmare.
But in my early years of fatherhood I came to understand.
He was from an era that dictated those things….’things’.

Christmas 1972
We were a tad impoverished.
Poverty stricken was a status I was striving for.
We managed a few meager toys from the five and dime, and wrapped them in newspaper, placing them under the tree limb from the neighbor’s backyard that had miraculously blown down from one of their giant firs.
We watched the boys unwrap their tinsel strength early China bobbles.
They lasted almost long enough to get ‘em outta the newspaper, disintegrating in their little ink stained hands.
However,as my lady wiped last Wednesday’s headlines from their fingers so they could drink their mug of hot cinnamon tea and suck one their tiny candy canes, I whipped out to the truck to bring in the toy of toys…the one that would give back.

My eldest named the little puppy from the pound, Felix.
Felix the dog…hey, it was original.
Only he was too young to pronounce the name Felix, so it came out ‘juwix’.
The thing is, a few moments after cleaning up the vomit and diarrhea from the truck seat, floorboard and doors, and myself, it dawned on me that Felix may not have been the best of finds.
The next morning my eldest seemed to have lost track of him, so we both went looking.

‘Juwix….Juuuuwix…heeeere Juwix’

I got a kick out of his determination in locating his new little buddy, trudging around the yard, big cheeks housed upon his tiny neck earnestly calling out with his baby Elmer Fudd like voice…‘Juwix….Juuuuwix…heeeere Juwix’.

Unfortunately we found Juwix.
He was under a gap in the wood pile…rather stiff.
So, as my Dad, twenty some years before, I vowed to provide a better Christmas for the years to come.
Not lavish ones, but ones that bore a couple substantial gifts for each of my little beings.

Christmas now?

Keep yer tie money.
 
Good you stopped it to see us, pun intended. I would think the new computers would have voice typing like I have on my IPad. Is Christmas going to be your annual visiting time. On a serious note, sorry about the eyesight. Hope to see you here more often
 
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