I worked on a Sears catalogue fulfillment loading dock during the Christmas season of '71 '72. I remember because I saw Alice Cooper on the Killer tour that year.. Just a few rows back. Free was the opener. He was noosed. Later he opted for the guillotine. Hearing Desperado live like that was pretty awe inspiring for a 16 yo.
I got fired from that job for racing forklifts. What a dumbass...
Forklifts are so much freakin' fun though! Especially the kind that grab and rotate and stuff. We had a cat 980 with forks on it that could pick up a dozen flattened cars. Picking up cars and tossing them around is a gas, daddy-o. Big toys for little boys. Playing in the scrapyard.
What about the ones that have big squeezers on them. Ain't no joke.
I worked on a Sears catalogue fulfillment loading dock during the Christmas season of '71 '72. I remember because I saw Alice Cooper on the Killer tour that year.. Just a few rows back. Free was the opener. He was noosed. Later he opted for the guillotine. Hearing Desperado live like that was pretty awe inspiring for a 16 yo.
I got fired from that job for racing forklifts. What a dumbass...
Forklifts are so much freakin' fun though! Especially the kind that grab and rotate and stuff. We had a cat 980 with forks on it that could pick up a dozen flattened cars. Picking up cars and tossing them around is a gas, daddy-o. Big toys for little boys. Playing in the scrapyard.
I worked on a Sears catalogue fulfillment loading dock during the Christmas season of '71 '72. I remember because I saw Alice Cooper on the Killer tour that year.. Just a few rows back. He was noosed. Later he opted for the guillotine. Hearing Desperado live like that was pretty awe inspiring for a 16 yo.
I got fired from that job for racing forklifts. What a dumbass...
I also remember at 3 or 4 years old taking a blanket and lying on the forced-air duct in the floor. Waiting...and waiting...for the glorious moment when the heat would come on.
My mother was raised in the Northeast Kingdom of Vermont, and my Grandparents' house had large holes in the ceilings/floors to allow for heat to rise. Still waiting.
I have very similar experiences with both accounts...
...its a book that my Father had and that I read many times as a boy. My Father told me of the winter time, and that old house they lived in. It was a worn out old small-town Victorian built 80 years earlier with one of those porches that wrapped all the way around and an integral kitchen off the back where it would get so cold that the water bucket would freeze if more than 3 feet from the wood burning cook stove.
My pop said his bedroom was on the fireplace wall but that's about it for the heat. He spent a lot of time reading his whole life.
I shiver to think of that level of poverty, being spared of it by a good man.
Still, I guess I grew up with my own version, and in the bed at night under the quilt my grandmother made and with a flashlight and my mom's portable hair dryer for heat, I read that book over and over.
The hair dryer was one of those things in a little suitcase with a hose and a bonnet. It blew nice warm heat and when you restricted air from going in the intake the thing glowed red hot.
Fortunately I never fell asleep with it running...
Been there, done that. I have no idea why.
I also remember at 3 or 4 years old taking a blanket and lying on the forced-air duct in the floor. Waiting...and waiting...for the glorious moment when the heat would come on.
My mother was raised in the Northeast Kingdom of Vermont, and my Grandparents' house had large holes in the ceilings/floors to allow for heat to rise. Still waiting.
...its a book that my Father had and that I read many times as a boy. My Father told me of the winter time, and that old house they lived in. It was a worn out old small-town Victorian built 80 years earlier with one of those porches that wrapped all the way around and an integral kitchen off the back where it would get so cold that the water bucket would freeze if more than 3 feet from the wood burning cook stove.
My pop said his bedroom was on the fireplace wall but that's about it for the heat. He spent a lot of time reading his whole life.
I shiver to think of that level of poverty, being spared of it by a good man.
Still, I guess I grew up with my own version, and in the bed at night under the quilt my grandmother made and with a flashlight and my mom's portable hair dryer for heat, I read that book over and over.
The hair dryer was one of those things in a little suitcase with a hose and a bonnet. It blew nice warm heat and when you restricted air from going in the intake the thing glowed red hot.
Fortunately I never fell asleep with it running...
...Remembering old Wild Bill. No, not that guy. He'll have to tell his own stories. They're likely far more interesting than mine. I'm talking about old Wild Bill from olive drab days gone by. He was from West Virginia and funny as hell (sic) when he got drunk. He stood about 5'4" of clown dumpling and his drawl was way worse than mine. Must have been the hillbilly in him. He was a couple years behind me in time in service and wanted to go home so bad. Said he had a girl back there. Germany was a long way from WVa. and North Carolina.
I was with him one night when he got so drunk that while standing in front of a urinal he fell face first and knocked himself out on the flush valve. It wasn't really funny then but now, the picture of the scene in my mind is kinda. You had to know Wild Bill. That was a name we gave him. Most of us had nicknames over there. Mine was Haney. Actually only my room mate and a couple other guys called me that. He's the one that gave it to me so I guess he was uniquely qualified. I had another nickname but...anyway Make of all that what you will...
I know I've told this before, but I witnessed a KKK hoedown when I was about 10 or 11. Hoods. Torches. Chanting. Parading. Frightening.
It was off a dirt road in a field adjacent to a small community of black families.
It is as surreal a memory as it was when I went to visit my cousin, who lived on that dirt road, and we watched for awhile hidden behind the hedges.
There is far more to acknowledge and be thankful for than there is reason to destroy all the progress and sacrifice evident in every day life. In fact there will never be a reason for that, because evil is already defeated. We are in a lag time where the evidence of things hoped for is the assurance of the evidence of things not seen, and all because we never gave up.
But for the grace of God and the faith and active belief in something way greater and more beautiful did we teach a child the way to go, and it was not the way of the world. It was their still small voice we heard. It was at such a time as this the air became foul with lies so someone might be able to know the difference...
I know I've told this before, but I witnessed a KKK hoedown when I was about 10 or 11. Hoods. Torches. Chanting. Parading. Frightening.
It was off a dirt road in a field adjacent to a small community of black families.
It is as surreal a memory as it was when I went to visit my cousin, who lived on that dirt road, and we watched for awhile hidden behind the hedges.
There is far more to acknowledge and be thankful for than there is reason to destroy all the progress and sacrifice evident in every day life. In fact there will never be a reason for that, because evil is already defeated. We are in a lag time where the evidence of things hoped for is the assurance of the evidence of things not seen, and all because we never gave up.
But for the grace of God and the faith and active belief in something way greater and more beautiful did we teach a child the way to go, and it was not the way of the world. It was their still small voice we heard. It was at such a time as this the air became foul with lies so someone might be able to know the difference...
I know I've told this before, but I witnessed a KKK hoedown when I was about 10 or 11. Hoods. Torches. Chanting. Parading. Frightening.
It was off a dirt road in a field adjacent to a small community of black families.
It is as surreal a memory as it was when I went to visit my cousin, who lived on that dirt road, and we watched for awhile hidden behind the hedges.
There is far more to acknowledge and be thankful for than there is reason to destroy all the progress and sacrifice evident in every day life. In fact there will never be a reason for that, because evil is already defeated. We are in a lag time where the evidence of things hoped for is the assurance of the evidence of things not seen, and all because we never gave up.
But for the grace of God and the faith and active belief in something way greater and more beautiful did we teach a child the way to go, and it was not the way of the world. It was their still small voice we heard. It was at such a time as this the air became foul with lies so someone might be able to know the difference...
