THIS OLD CAR

Wreck makes one ponder if these wheels could talk

I noticed an old abandoned car recently, parked in a fence corner, surrounded by weeds and being slowly eaten away by rust. It brought back some old memories, and seemed to be a kind of composite of a lot of autos I have known, owned, driven, or ridden in at one time or another .
I often wonder: If these old rattletraps could talk, what weird tales would they tell? After years of associating with human beings, they should have some dandies. I'm sure most would boast of holding a few unofficial speed records. Some would be proud to be organ donors if there was still a demand for their obsolete pistons and gears. And what
would they have to say about their owners and drivers?

This Old Car

This rusty automobile
With one badly bent wheel
And four tires so
Thin that they almost show air

And in its shabby trunk
An assortment of junk –
Rusty, dusty –
With some well-used parts to spare.

Lord knows, it’s seen better days
Out there on the highways.
It looks so sad
And all alone here today.

And what wild yarns might it spin –
Tales of goodness or sin?
If you asked, this
Just might be what it would say:

“At one time I was hot!
Yes, believe it or not.
Just about the
Classiest thing on the road.

"I've chased many a raccoon
By the light of the moon,
And have flattened
Many a big, fat, slow toad.

"Once my big chrome headlights beamed
And my glossy paint gleamed,
Shiny and bright
As a brand-new Cadillac.

"I have traveled coast-to-coast,
Racked up more miles than most.
One might say I
Have been clear to hell and back.

"I've caught many people's eye
While swiftly passing by
On the highways
And byways, both bad and good.

"I've climbed up hills that were steep,
Splashed through mud puddles deep,
And plowed through some
Snowdrifts as high as my hood!

"I have had owners galore -
A half-dozen or more -
And once changed hands
In a mean, nasty divorce,

"Suffered one small 'rear-ender,'
And crumpled a front fender
While avoiding
Poor old Jesse Lester's horse.

Once my driver - fogged by beer
Encountered a few deer.
One big old buck
Slid right through under my frame.

"Almost every other time
I could stop on a dime;
And that was just
One of my main claims to fame.

"I drove folks to proms and balls
And all the great dance halls,
Moonlight Gardens
And good old Melody Mill.

"I was as fast as could be.
No one ever passed me
When I zoomed down
That big old Gillespie Hill.

"But years and miles took their toll
On my body and soul
Until you can't
See much of me now but rust.

"Still my memories live on,
Of those days now long gone,
Back when I could
Leave everyone in the dust.

SOMETHING FOR NOTHING

Every now and then we run into a familiar “old saying” – a few words of wisdom that strike a chord or bring back an old memory. When in print, such a sentence or short paragraph often includes the name of the person who originated the thought. When repeated in conversation, we may recognize it as an example of the creative thinking of Benjamin Franklin or Will Rogers. Or even the writers of the “Beverly Hillbillies” TV show who created Jed Clampett’s salty observations. But, too often, we are left guessing.
Recently I heard a friend repeat one of my favorites that goes something like this: “The darkest point in anyone’s life is the moment that he or she sits down and tries to figure out a way to get something for nothing.” I don’t know the exact wording or who created this bit of sage advice, but it is interesting, to say the least.
At this point in time, some of the political leaders here in this great land of ours are insisting that more gambling casinos are absolutely necessary to the financial welfare of quite a number of municipalities and even a few states. But if a large percentage of our people were to suddenly agree with the above statement, and no longer look for a way to get “something for nothing,” wouldn’t this drastically cut down on casino betting? And, in turn, seriously decrease the “tax relief” we currently get by way of taxes paid by the casinos? And, eventually, force us all to go back to paying taxes in the regular old-fashioned way?
Some people seem to feel that paying taxes is less painful when accompanied by flashing lights and bells and whistles.

SOMETHING FOR NOTHING

I met a gray-haired old codger

On a bench out in the park

And he gave me this

One bit of good advice:

“Don’t expect something for nothing –

Life just don’t work out that way –

For each thing you get,

You have to pay the price.”

I laughed, saying, “You old duffers

Just don’t keep up with the times.

Look around and you’ll

See winners everywhere.

“There are lots of gamblers out there

With the guts to take a chance.

I’ve watched. They always

Have plenty bucks to spare.

”I decided I’d try gambling

A few bucks on games of chance,

Certain that old

Lady Luck would smile on me.

I forgot the old man’s warning

And soon was casino bound.

Why work when the best

Things in life may be free?

I first tried the blackjack table,

Put my fifty dollars down,

Gave the dealer a

Smile and my best regards.

I envisioned great big winnings

But my fifty soon was gone.

I guess somehow it

Just wasn’t in the cards.

I found the craps table busy,

But soon found an empty space.

To win a tall stack of

Chips there would be nice.

But my hopes and chances faded

As my money disappeared

With each roll of those

Highly unfriendly dice.

The casino’s bingo hall was

The next place I’d have to try,

But found no

Cooperation there at all.

At roulette, I found that big wheel

Was against me from the start,

Just the same as was

That small white bouncing ball.

When my life’s savings had dwindled

And I had no money left,

The old man’s words came

A-drifting back to me:

“You don’t get something for nothing.

You must pay up all your dues.

”I’m convinced those words

Are true as true can be.

Now, since re-doing my thinking

As to what life’s all about,

I am back here in

The unemployment line.

My billfold’s flatter than road kill,

But once more, my head’s on straight.

If I can find work,

Things may turn out just fine.

DAY BY DAY

Each morning brings a new sunrise. If we are lucky, we may be able to see it in all of its red and golden glory. Much like any other bright sunrise, yet different, with special colors, patterns, and a personality all its own.
Then again, if we are not so fortunate, it may be a dark, gray, cloudy, and gloomy morning. Nothing to inspire us and get us “up and going.” I remember a number of old-timers who seemed to feel that it was their duty to frequently remind younger people that “into each life a little rain must fall.” And I am glad they did. No matter how we plan, the sun is not going to shine every day. We may as well accept that fact. There is nothing to be gained from “cursing the darkness.”
On a cloudy morning, we may just as well remember that the same sun is rising. And, most important, we have been given another day to use in whatever way we choose. If there is work that must be done, we may as well get at it. If we don’t take care of it today, the job will still be there tomorrow. And will seem just as distasteful as it does today. Perhaps more so. Plus the fact that we will also have tomorrow’s chores. And, who knows? We may feel no more ambitious tomorrow than we do today.
I feel fully qualified to speak on this matter. I am a natural procrastinator – a “putter-offer.” As I look around at my desk and office tables I see ample evidence. A stack of paper that contains ideas and unfinished rhymes for possible poems and columns bothers me. I may have to attack it today. On a table there is a sheaf of data pulled off the Internet that I may use one day, along with numerous clippings from the TH that may come in handy (if I can find them when I need them).
There is also a fairly neat pile of hints and suggestions I have put together to help me out when my computer and I do not see eye to eye. Also a digital camera that I still haven’t mastered, as well as instructions I have printed off telling me how to use the camera’s new photo handling program (also not mastered). And my Inbox is loaded with almost a six-month’s collection of e-mails that must be deleted one of these days.
It is up to me to decide. I can continue to put up with this unhappy situation, or I can get down to work and make order out of the chaos. When it comes right down to it, most of the real satisfaction and happiness we find comes from accomplishment.

DAY BY DAY

This life tends to deal each of us

A fair share of ups and downs,

Regardless of our positions,

Rich men, poor men, even clowns,

Young people, mothers and fathers,

CEOs, and office hacks,

Laboring men who must carry

The world’s weight upon their backs,

Old folks in their rocking chairs, and

Students studying in school,

Must share failures with their triumphs,

That seems to be nature’s rule.

Each morning there’s a new sunrise,

Even if hid by a cloud,

Followed by a new and long day

Filled with trials. Join the crowd.

An old farmer rises early,

Milks his cows and slops the hogs,

Plans out the day’s work before him

Felling trees and splitting logs.

He knows the work won’t be easy,

And tomorrow there’ll be more,
But finds the work satisfying.

He’s been through it all before.

A bank president arises,

Puts on his best business clothes,

Kind of dreads this day, knows it will

Be no picnic, goodness knows!

There’ll be several unhappy

Decisions he’ll have to make –

One or two more sad foreclosures –

How many hearts must he break?

A clown, in his trailer, puts on

His ragged old baggy clothes,

Laces up his two-foot-long shoes,

Pops on his red rubber nose.

Next, he checks out all of the props

That he uses for his act,

Knows he’ll never be rich, but he’s

Satisfied, and that’s a fact.

This week he’ll earn little money –

Last week’s pay’s already gone –

But he’ll bring smiles to the children.

For them, the show must go on,

He thinks, “Despite tests and trials

The Creator sends my way,

If I’d find contentment, I must

Make the most of each new day.”

BUILDING BLOCKS OF KNOWLEDGE

Ideas may drift in alone
Or in large flocks or herds,
But they are lifeless things until
We put them into words.

With luck, we’ll find those proper words –
Perhaps a few to spare.
When completed, some thoughts become
Things we can’t wait to share

We may write new ideas down
In stories short or long,
Or can recite them orally
In poem, speech, or song.

Some new thoughts may seem so weak they’re
Not worth being re-told,
But when joined with others, may prove
Precious as purest gold.

New ideas are fragile things –
Feed them and watch them grow.
When complete, each becomes a part
Of all the things we know.

WORKING MAN

I remember a day on the job when the work was hard. The hours were long and the pay was nothing to brag about. Several of the younger fellows were complaining. They were certain that some people were just sitting in their soft, comfortable chairs and getting rich from this project, while we were performing “slave labor” out in the almost unbearable heat.
A middle-aged fellow showed only a hint of a smile. “Well, that’s the way it always goes. The rich get richer, and the poor get kids.”
That was probably not an original idea. But it was the first time I had heard it. And I suddenly realized how true it was. For him, anyway. The man had a large family. And an old car that ran only part of the time. He was stuck in this low paying job at a time when most material handling and work of that type was still accomplished by “brute strength and sheer awkwardness,” and there was no indication that things would ever get any better.
I have read and heard old stories about isolated mining towns and factory towns that had only one major employer. Workers and their families were completely dependent upon that one company. With no competition, the company usually had free rein in determining wages, hours, and working conditions. And local workers had little choice but to accept what was offered. During slack seasons when the mines and plants closed down, families were forced to buy their food and supplies “on time” at the company owned store. The establishment readily extended them credit, under the agreement that when the factory whistle blew again, they would be ready and willing to come back to work.
In such communities, before there were labor unions to give the workers any bargaining power, the company practically owned the people, and they were, for the most part, at its mercy. There was nowhere else to go and no other jobs available. Nothing to look forward to. No rainbows, no bright light on the horizon, and not the slightest hint that there would ever be anything better in their lives. Nothing but more and more hard work, long hours, and low pay.
As Tennessee Ernie Ford’s song described it: “I owe my soul to the company store.”

WORKING MAN

The big boss man gathers
The day’s receipts, and locks
Them safely away
In the vault.

The shift whistle shrills, and
The long workday grinds down
To a welcome,
Quick, screeching halt.

One day’s like another,
So much so that old “Clint”
Can hardly keep
Track, anymore,

Of all of his troubles
That keep growing, just like
His bill at the
Company store.

This week’s puny paycheck
Won’t quite stretch to cover
Each and every
Family need.

While rich folks get richer
Poor folks just get children,
More hungry mouths
For them to feed.

Each year Clint feels older,
Quite sure one day he will
Work himself right
Into the ground.

There’s no need for dreaming
Or looking for better.
No easy jobs
Are to be found.

He tells younger fellows,
“Don’t expect much sunshine.
Into all lives
Much rain must fall.

“You’ll find that in this world
Nothing comes easy.
We Can’t walk till we’ve
First learned to crawl.

“With each year you’ll notice
The work just gets harder,
Each day brings a
New ache or pain.

“As your hair grows grayer
Your chances grow slimmer
For reaping much
Financial gain.

“My small paycheck barely
Keeps food on the table.
For hunger, there’s
No easy cure.

“The preacher says
I’ll get My reward in heaven,
I only wish
I could be sure.”

DAY DREAMING

Day dreams are sometimes criticized as a useless waste of time. And if they are never acted on, I suppose they can be. But it would be a sad, dull life if we couldn't think about brighter, more positive things from time to time. And if it hadn't been for daydreams, we would most likely still be living without fire, and, instead of pecking away on a computer, I would be etching this message on a cave wall with a sharp piece of flint.
I once read of a fellow who was condemned to one of the worst of prisons. The conditions were so terrible that most of the prisoners just gave up and few lived out their sentences. The ones who eventually were released were white-haired, white-bearded old men who had aged far beyond their years. I can't remember the name of the hero of this story, but he was made of stout stuff. He decided that he would not allow the prison to break him. As much as possible, he kept his mind filled with happy, pleasant thoughts. At night, when he looked out through the prison window, he saw, "not bars, but stars." And when his sentence was finally finished, he walked out of the lockup under his own power. Thinner, I would imagine, but definitely not an aged and broken man.
We all have our troubles and problems, but to just concentrate on them gets us nowhere. Usually we can come up with some pleasant thoughts that make our day seem easier. This kind of thinking is much better for our health and well being than just concentrating on all of the negative, unpleasant conditions around us. A popular song tells us that lighting just one little candle is better than cursing the darkness. Oftentimes changing to cheerful, positive thoughts will give us the answers to our problems. Instead of complaining to ourselves about conditions and secretly blaming other people for our bad fortune, why not try to find some solutions to the problems of the day? At times, we may surprise ourselves with our ability to think and to come up with answers and new innovations, if we just keep our minds in the positive mode and give them free rein.

THE GOOD LIFE

I know some folks may think I'm dumb
Cause I march to a different drum
At times, I turn the real world
Off, and I just dream.

Then I help tame the old Wild West,
I've even climbed Mt. Everest,
While cultivating with a
One-row and a team.

In time and space, I make the rounds;
My world has no limits or bounds.
I'm living in the future,
The past and the now.

I've seen the French and Indian Wars,
Walked with the first man up on Mars,
While still at home, milking a
Big old Holstein cow.

If you don't like how your world seems,
Retreat into a world of dreams;
I will guarantee that it
Shall do you no harm.

I've driven Maserati cars,
At times hobnobbed with movie stars,
And, shucks, I've never ever
Even left the farm.

DIFFERENCES SHOULD BE CELEBRATED

Diversity: Some dance to the beat of a different drum

Nature never seems to be seeking perfection. Almost every common plant or animal that we see has at least a few flaws, weaknesses, or strengths that make it different from all others. Nature rarely ever repeats itself. Of all the beautiful sunrises or sunsets we have seen, no two of them have been exactly the same. And we've always been told that no two snowflakes are alike.
We humans, too, have our differences. Many of them. We differ in age, sex, and color of hair, eyes, and skin. We have a wide variety of heredity and backgrounds, and grew up in a multitude of different environments. We have absorbed varied amounts of education, both formal and informal. We have decided differences in temperament and in the subjects that interest us the most.
Looking at humanity as a whole, we suffer from an almost unimaginable number of different diseases, illnesses, allergies and assorted other ailments. We boast of any number of different religious sects and beliefs. On occasion, many of us are ready and willing to argue about world, national and local politics. We disagree on gun control, abortion, tax cuts, the national debt and capital punishment. Some get involved in saving the rain forests, the whales, and the baby seals, all the while keeping an eye out for global warming, while others could not care less. And, whether we are ready to admit it or not, a lot of us have picked up at least a few biases and prejudices along the way.
But, are we proud of this rich mix that makes up our human race? Not on your life. Most of us prefer to look at the world through rose-colored glasses, trying to see all persons as pretty much the same - as mannequins - all cut from the same cloth while using identical patterns. Or as having been cast in the same mold. Which we definitely have not. At times, a lot of our rules and laws seem to have been dreamed up or written to deliberately treat some people differently, in an effort to make us all become more alike.
We never seem quite content until all of the ducks are in a row. Or all of the sheep are in a flock, and following the same shepherd. Too often, an individual, one who marches to his (or her) own drummer, is labeled "different." He (or she) does not share in the most popular interests of the day, and doesn't fall for every new style, trend, or activity that comes along. So, therefore, it is only natural for some of the "sheep of the flock" to look down on that person.
I really admired many of the "Golden People" I met while in Hawaii. They seemed to know pretty well who they were, and were well satisfied with themselves and with their genetic makeup. In that great "Melting Pot," you could feel free to ask anyone about his (or her) ancestry. You might get an answer like, "Japanese, Austrian, Portuguese, Filipino." And then the person's citizenship, "Hawaiian, American," would be added. A special interest was shown in each and every ingredient in the mix. Everyone was an individual. And proud of it.

SIMPLE SIMON

His nickname is "Simple Simon"
(Stolen from the nursery rhyme),
But he's really far from simple –
Seems real bright most of the time.

Simon's quite a quiet fellow,
Never gets pushy or loud,
Likes marching to his own drummer,
Not influenced by the crowd,

Neither follower nor leader
(Been that way since a small lad),
Prefers to do his own thinking,
Whether it's for good or bad,

He has a liking for people,
And no trouble making friends,
But needs no constant companions
From morning till the day ends.

Simple Simon keeps his focus
On important things of life.
Used both brain and heart in choosing
His friends, companions, and wife.

He has a good understanding
Of what this world's all about,
All its inconsistencies and
Ups and downs, inside and out.

Simon makes his own decisions.
Bravely, bold, and unashamed,
Like Sinatra, "does it his way."
Just he can be praised or blamed.

'Though at times he'd find it easy
To bend and blend with the flock,
He stands behind his convictions,
Firm and solid as a rock.

Like Simon, we might be wise to
Think life's serious problems through,
Finding our own answers as we
Think, "To thine own self be true!"