I'm not sure why, but lately I have found myself studying the obituaries in our local paper. Well, not really studying, but skimming over each one. Sometimes I notice that the deceased person has family members that I know, or perhaps I am acquainted with a pallbearer here and there. Some obituaries are short and to the point. They simply state when the person was born, surviving family members, those who preceded the person in death. They will also list the place of employment, and maybe a few other details of the person's life and where services will be held. Other obituaries are similar in length to a thesis written by a student who's desperately trying to earn a PhD in their chosen field. Those particular obituaries contain every single snippet of the person's life. Usually, this particular account also mentions that the person touched the life of every person they ever met. Generally speaking, it's that type of obit that fails to keep my attention beyond what the dearly departed accomplished while attending a one room schoolhouse in the 1930's. Apparently some folks feel the need to give an overly detailed account of every, single, year of their lives. Me? Well, lets just say that mine will be short, to the point and truthful.
Naturally, it should begin with my birth date, which happens to be June 2, 1990. OK, Maybe that's off by about twenty years, but who's counting. The next sentence will surely explain that on June 3, 1970 I became grouchy. Grouchy? You have to remember that it will most likely be my wife that will be charged with writing my obituary. I can see it now... Mr. Fix was born in Staunton, Virginia on June 2, 1970. The next day he became extremely agitated and grouchy and stayed that way for the rest of his life. One of his most extreme cases of grouchiness came at a local ATM after waiting to use the machine for up to five minutes. He most dutifully approached the sluggish bank customer and explained that if she wanted to refinance her house, that she'd have to go INSIDE the bank to do it.
Mr. Fix's grouchiness knew no boundaries. Kristi, his loving wife of many years was always there to quell the grouchiness. Once, while at a Burger King drive thru, she calmly explained that the customer currently ordering has every right to change their mind and order something else. There would be no sense in flooring the accelerator and pushing the customer and his car through the shrubbery and into the dumpster on the other side of the parking lot. Mr. Fix was indeed a grouch to end all grouches.
Mr. Fix maintained a grouchiness that could be met by only a few worldwide. He even dragged his foul mood into the house of the Lord. When he was requested to pull nursery duty, his foul humor was grew exceedingly worse. "Nope, ain't going to do it!" As always, Kristi stepped in to help diffuse the situation. "Now, why don't you want to work in the nursery? It's noble work...for the Lord," she'd say.
"Then let the Lord change all those poopy diapers! When those kids see me coming they all seem to crap in unison. It ain't happening."
Mr. Fix is survived not only by his wife, but a son, Ryan, and a daughter, Sidney. They know all to well how grouchy their dad was. Ryan once stated that apparently someone had urinated in his father's cornflakes every single day of his life. Sidney, always a very loving child, simply stated, "I loved my dad, but I never understood how me making every doorknob in the house sticky made him so grouchy."
The story of my life will end like this. Mr. Fix served a hitch in the US Air Force where he was grouchy on two different continents. He was the longest tenured college student in the history of the world which caused a profound grouchiness. Many people compared him to John Belushi's character in Animal House. Services will be held as soon as the family can find a funeral home to take him. He was just too darned grouchy. Memorial contributions can be made to Burger King in an effort to raise funds to construct another drive thru lane.
Tuesday, March 10, 2015
Thursday, March 5, 2015
WORK ETHIC...OR LACK THEREOF
"I'm telling you, they boy has no work ethic. None at all, and if I ever finish shoveling snow, I'm going to jerk a knot in his rear end! When I was his age, this was my job. As soon as I got out of bed, I knew it was shovel time!" I exclaimed, while peeking out from under the hood attached to my old Air Force jacket. My wife stood nearby, calmly waiting for her little dog to do it's business in an area that I had cleared just for that reason.
"Oh good grief! You're just like a cranky old man. Ryan is a typical teenager, besides, you're almost done. Cut the kid some slack," she said, still staring at the dog who was now humpback and straining to pass something that it shouldn't have eaten.
I turned around to see that Ryan had indeed decided to join the shoveling party. "Well, well, look who decided to help before his old man dies of a heart attack," I said. "Here blister, finish up," I said while handing over the shovel to my son.
"Blister? That makes no sense dad," the boy quipped, as he too stared at the dog, who now was whining slightly and shaking violently.
"Yeah, you're just like a blister. You show up after the work's done," I explained.
My wife stepped toward the dog surely wondering if the pitiful mutt was constipated. "I think something's wrong with the dog. I mean she appears to be in pain, poor thing," she said.
"Oh sure, I've been out here for two hours shoveling, and the dog gets plugged up and your worried about that!!?" I moaned, while Ryan rested his chin on the shovel. I too was wondering if the dog would ever do its business. The furry little creature surely had bulging veins under all that hair.
"Son, when I was your age, I shoveled and shoveled and shoveled until there was nothing left to shovel. I mean, that was my job. It was expected and I did it with a smile on my face," I said, turning my attention away from our clogged up dog.
Ryan stared at me briefly, and wiped the snow from his head. "Well, Nanny said that you were no ball of fire when you were my age. She said that you NEVER shoveled anything! Papaw did it all!"
"She said that? Well, she's getting older and she probably doesn't remember. I'll refresh her memory the next time I talk to her, that's for sure," I answered, while wondering why my mother saw fit to undermine my authority. Then again, the boy could have very easily fabricated that little snippet.
Ryan finished the three scoops worth of snow I had left him to shovel and promptly disappeared into the cozy confines of our house. The dog finally pooped and my wife and I stood, staring, amazed that a dog that size could squeeze out something to rival that of a rhinoceros dropping.
We made our way back into the house, stopping briefly on the porch to remove our shoes, coats, and gloves. As we entered the kitchen, we could see a watery trail leading to the 'man cave', which is where Ryan usually retreats to for his self described quiet time.
"Did you not think to remove your snowy, icy shoes, before coming in," I asked, as I observed the boy sitting nearly upside down in his recliner while simultaneously looking at who knows what on his phone.
"Huh?"
"Never mind. Did you make your bed?" I asked, slightly annoyed that we'd have to mop up his water trail.
"Huh? Bed? What bed? I mean, no, I didn't make it. I will though," he answered, without making eye contact.
I had begun to wonder if I surely did behave so strangely when I was 14. "Go ahead and make it up, we're going to lunch soon,"
"I don't see the point. I mean, I'm just going to get right back into the bed tonight and mess up all my hard work. Don't you agree?"
"Hard work? It's going to take you three minutes! Get on it!" I barked.
He finally moped up the steps and made the bed.
I made my way to my favorite chair beside the fireplace and decided that a cozy, although surely brief rest was in order before leaving for lunch. I slowly closed my eyes, and within an instant, I could feel the unpleasantness of being watched. As slowly as I had closed my eyes, I gently eased them open to find my wife peering down at me.
"What?" I asked. Kristi stood over me with her hands placed firmly on her hips and a scowl upon her face. I had seen that scowl many times over the years and there was only one person on Earth that could be the cause of such a pinched face...Sidney.
"That kid is driving me crazy!!! I have followed her around all day, picking up towels, shoes, hair pins, nail polish, and who knows what else. I just found a potato chip bag in the bathroom sink!"
I produced a lazy smile and spoke. "Oh for goodness sake. She's typical twelve-year-old, and you're turning into a crotchety old lady. Cut the kid some slack, besides, you're almost done cleaning the house!" I answered.
With that, she snorted and disappeared up the stairs.
.
"Oh good grief! You're just like a cranky old man. Ryan is a typical teenager, besides, you're almost done. Cut the kid some slack," she said, still staring at the dog who was now humpback and straining to pass something that it shouldn't have eaten.
I turned around to see that Ryan had indeed decided to join the shoveling party. "Well, well, look who decided to help before his old man dies of a heart attack," I said. "Here blister, finish up," I said while handing over the shovel to my son.
"Blister? That makes no sense dad," the boy quipped, as he too stared at the dog, who now was whining slightly and shaking violently.
"Yeah, you're just like a blister. You show up after the work's done," I explained.
My wife stepped toward the dog surely wondering if the pitiful mutt was constipated. "I think something's wrong with the dog. I mean she appears to be in pain, poor thing," she said.
"Oh sure, I've been out here for two hours shoveling, and the dog gets plugged up and your worried about that!!?" I moaned, while Ryan rested his chin on the shovel. I too was wondering if the dog would ever do its business. The furry little creature surely had bulging veins under all that hair.
"Son, when I was your age, I shoveled and shoveled and shoveled until there was nothing left to shovel. I mean, that was my job. It was expected and I did it with a smile on my face," I said, turning my attention away from our clogged up dog.
Ryan stared at me briefly, and wiped the snow from his head. "Well, Nanny said that you were no ball of fire when you were my age. She said that you NEVER shoveled anything! Papaw did it all!"
"She said that? Well, she's getting older and she probably doesn't remember. I'll refresh her memory the next time I talk to her, that's for sure," I answered, while wondering why my mother saw fit to undermine my authority. Then again, the boy could have very easily fabricated that little snippet.
Ryan finished the three scoops worth of snow I had left him to shovel and promptly disappeared into the cozy confines of our house. The dog finally pooped and my wife and I stood, staring, amazed that a dog that size could squeeze out something to rival that of a rhinoceros dropping.
We made our way back into the house, stopping briefly on the porch to remove our shoes, coats, and gloves. As we entered the kitchen, we could see a watery trail leading to the 'man cave', which is where Ryan usually retreats to for his self described quiet time.
"Did you not think to remove your snowy, icy shoes, before coming in," I asked, as I observed the boy sitting nearly upside down in his recliner while simultaneously looking at who knows what on his phone.
"Huh?"
"Never mind. Did you make your bed?" I asked, slightly annoyed that we'd have to mop up his water trail.
"Huh? Bed? What bed? I mean, no, I didn't make it. I will though," he answered, without making eye contact.
I had begun to wonder if I surely did behave so strangely when I was 14. "Go ahead and make it up, we're going to lunch soon,"
"I don't see the point. I mean, I'm just going to get right back into the bed tonight and mess up all my hard work. Don't you agree?"
"Hard work? It's going to take you three minutes! Get on it!" I barked.
He finally moped up the steps and made the bed.
I made my way to my favorite chair beside the fireplace and decided that a cozy, although surely brief rest was in order before leaving for lunch. I slowly closed my eyes, and within an instant, I could feel the unpleasantness of being watched. As slowly as I had closed my eyes, I gently eased them open to find my wife peering down at me.
"What?" I asked. Kristi stood over me with her hands placed firmly on her hips and a scowl upon her face. I had seen that scowl many times over the years and there was only one person on Earth that could be the cause of such a pinched face...Sidney.
"That kid is driving me crazy!!! I have followed her around all day, picking up towels, shoes, hair pins, nail polish, and who knows what else. I just found a potato chip bag in the bathroom sink!"
I produced a lazy smile and spoke. "Oh for goodness sake. She's typical twelve-year-old, and you're turning into a crotchety old lady. Cut the kid some slack, besides, you're almost done cleaning the house!" I answered.
With that, she snorted and disappeared up the stairs.
.
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