Life, actually…

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MAKE YOUR DAY BETTER

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1. Never sniff your armpits in public.
2. Never sniff other people’s armpits in public.
3. Always wear shoes within Lego playrooms.
4. Never say “No problem.” Ever.
5. When you catch yourself frowning, smile broadly and hold on to it.
6. Remember, when someone is railing on you it means they are in pain, pain that you cannot readily identify. Don’t tell them you know they are in pain. Just listen intensely.
7. Come to a full stop at all stop signs. Assume that a law enforcement official is watching. Use wisely the time and money you save.
8. Limit yourself to two daily whines.
9. Never stare at cleavage.
10. Always say Good Morning or G’day.
11. Hold open the door for the person behind you. Don’t expect thanks but appreciate it when it happens.
12. Always thank the person who holds the door for you.
13. Leave the seat and lid down. Always.
14. When entering someone’s kitchen always ask, “How can I help?”
15. Dance first with the most ignored person in the room.
16. Never say “No thanks, I don’t drink,” when offered a drink. Simply smile and say “No thanks.”
17. Don’t proclaim that you are on a diet. Simply don’t eat what you do not wish to eat.
18. When trapped in an offensive political conversation back away and say, “Got to leave. I left my baby on the bus,” or something equally improvised. Do your part to avoid escalation.
19. If someone hands you a drink without asking, accept it. You can politely hold onto it without drinking.
20. Never assume you know the gender of a stranger. Pick your words carefully and politely.
21. Check the burners when you close the kitchen for the day. Always.
22. Tip generously except when asked for a tip.
23. When racing to a meeting or rendezvous always allot getting-lost time.
24. Show up two minutes early. Every time. Those who are tardy do not get fruit cup.
25. Ask permission before examining someone’s tattoo or tee-shirt slogan.
26. Do not tap dance on shag carpeting.
27. Don’t tiptoe in high heels.
28. Proudly say “It’s a pleasure for you to meet me,” for the 864^th time. Everyone else lost count long ago.
29. Ask permission prior to hugging.
30. Do not mock or tease others’ flatulence. Your turn will come.
31. Do not honk. The life you save may be yours.
32. Smile and wave. It counts.
33. Suppress your belch.
34. Behave as if you are being filmed and recorded.
35. Don’t roll your eyes. People can hear.
36. Allow your good feelings to emerge. Make them show.
37. Crank down your cranky.
38. Leave a good impression. People remember how you make them feel.
39. Only use four-letter words that do no harm, such as grin, help, love, give, heal, hold, save, ease, boon, play, kiss, nice, earn…
40. Notice who you hang out with. First-class people associate with first-class people. Second-class people associate with third-class people.
41. Do nice unto others as you would have them do nice unto you.
42. Pay attention to paranoid people. Sometimes the sky really is falling.

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These 42 ideas get me through the day. What gets you through the day?

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I hope you have the greatest of all possible days

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© Jim Reed 2022 A.D.

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Catch Jim’s podcasts on youtube: https://youtu.be/6WGsPQbUm2w

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Life, actually…

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THE ROTC UNIFORMED CUSHMAN TIME TRAVELLER LANDS IN PETERSON

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If I close my eyes, I am suddenly transported back in time more years ago than you have been alive.

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It is the early 1960s…

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I have a busy if not full life in Tuscaloosa, Alabama. As a student at the University, I keep myself occupied by not studying, by being an on-air announcer at several local radio stations, by attending class in order to catch naps.

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One class I am required to attend twice a week in full green wool uniform is the U.S.-run military program for male students called ROTC.

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Part of the reward for mandatory service in ROTC is the fact that the Army, needing soldiers for the neverending war in  Vietnam, has the theory that each of us will fall in love with the idea of giving up parties and romance and the good life to go to jungles far away, teaching enemies to do right.

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That is why I am wearing a full Army outfit after my classes are over. That is why, this day, I hop aboard my tattered Cushman motor scooter and drive as far away from the campus as possible, as fast as possible, to create a breeze on this 80-degree afternoon.

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The duct-taped vehicle is my only means of physical escape from T-Town.

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I head for the nearby tiny town of Peterson because I know how to get there. And because that’s where my grandfather’s general store is located.

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I pull up next to the Sinclair pumps, park the scooter out of harm’s way, take a look at Grandmother Effie’s flowers in the front yard, open the Miss Sunbeam Bread-bedecked screen door, and enter the store.

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Store and home are physically connected, and my grandparents’ lives are played out in a situation where they are never away from home, never away from work.

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Uncle Brandon is down on the concrete floor, constructing shelving out of cut strips of old Coca-Cola signs.

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Uncle Brandon looks like a cross between Stan Laurel and Will Rogers and is as funny as both of them.

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We palaver a bit and I go looking for Grandfather Robert. “Hey, Granddaddy, how are you?”

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We shake hands instead of hugging, since I am almost grown up now.

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“Doing OK,” he replies, monosylabically answering my questions about life, liberty and the pursuit of Grapico drinks.

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I wander around, inhaling the rich aroma of mildew, kerosene, bubble gum, ripe vegetables and leather combined with the powerful fragrance of my grandfather’s ever-present cigar.

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I observe off-shift coal miners stopping by for a drink and a chaw on their way home.

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“Gimme a Dope,” one of them smiles, slipping a dime onto the counter and grabbing a bag of Tom’s Toasted Peanuts which he carefully pours down the neck of a Coca-Cola bottle. Coke is Dope in these rural parts.

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I salivate at the thought of that heavy salt combining with the cane sugar fizz and making an unforgettable snack.

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I’ve made my visit. Shown off my ROTC uniform. Bragged about my radio jobs. Gossiped a bit. Now it’s time to head west toward Northport for my evening duties at WNPT.

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I am refreshed. I’ve seen my grandparents and uncle as well as postmistress Aunt Gladys, I’ve sniffed the memories of my early childhood. I am refreshed and energized.

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On the highway, I wend my way back to responsibilities and the feeling of purpose that to this day I get out of going to work each day.

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I want to remain in Peterson and live the quiet life. I want to be an on-air star and impress people with my talent. I want to toss this cotton-pickin’ wool uniform and hide from the draft, I yearn to date coeds, laugh with my younger siblings Tim, Rosi and Ronny, hug my mother, talk to older sister Barbara, try to get through to my stoic dad, lie abed late at night and listen to reel-to-reel tapes of Bob and Ray shows, fall asleep to the jazz emanating from WWL in New Orleans.

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All these generations later, I haven’t changed. I still want to be everywhere at once, every time at once. I still am happy at end of day in my solitude, floating in memories most textured and pleasing

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© Jim Reed 2022 A.D.

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Listen to Jim’s Podcast:

http://redclaydiary.com/mp3/therotcuniformedcushmantimetraveller.mp3

or read his story above.

Life, actually…

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TIPTOEING THROUGH THE TROUBLES

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Now and then I find the energy and inner fibre required to hoist an invisible bat. You know, the bat it takes to shoo away all those negative rants that keep hurling themselves at me.

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My best defense against loud and squeaky pessimism in these worrisome times is…humor.

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Yep, humor.

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I’ve tried just about everything else in this quest for peace of mind, quietude of attitude, calming of the stormy seas.

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Yelling back gets me nowhere when expert and practiced yellers abound.

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Logical rhetoric bounces off the negative screeds of doomsayers.

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Scientific evidence goes nowhere when wrestling words with a true believer.

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Even screaming into a pillow can only comfort me for so long.

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So, in order to get through the day, in order to cling to sanity and goodwill, in order to stay the course of a day worth living…I reboot my attitude with a dash of humor.

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BOTOX FOR PRUNES

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This seems like an idea worth pursuing. What could be more important in the middle of a political argument? I just step back silently and contemplate wrinkled prunes and their possible salvation.

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STOP PLATE TECTONICS

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A great way to fritter away the time I do not spend listening to gossip or crazed media shouters. I merely contemplate impossible projects.

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The great thing about hopeless causes is that they are never resolved. There is no danger of running out of project. It’s like building a pyramid with small pebbles. Let’s ban plate tectonics!

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When cornered by a hovering loquacious spouter of unfounded data and imagined magical solutions, I once again reach into my capricious mind and sink pleasantly into denial.

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INVERT ALL FROWNS

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What could it hurt? Take a frown, turn it upside-down, and I have the beginnings of a nice day. Just freeze that smile in place till the latest grim forebodings have passed on by.

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DUCK!

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As otherwise decent people resort to memorized what’s-this-world-coming-to rhetoric, I tend to look them in the eye, pretend to pay attention, and quietly dip into my trove of funny thoughts and merry musings. I duck.

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This is survival at its gentlest.

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Gentle is the only approach worth remembering when all the un-gentle actions of daily life run amuck.

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AMUCK OR AMOK. YOUR CHOICE!

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See, I do have choices that evade woke and dogma and power grabs and exploitation. I can just meditate on which fork in the road to take on my lifetime journey.

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I am the only person who can decide whether to run amok or amuck.

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I can tiptoe on by, hoping no-one will notice

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© Jim Reed 2022 A.D.

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Life, actually…

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THE DAY OF GOULASH AND GALOSHES

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I am a mere eight years old, in memory green.

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Some days I feel that eight-year-olds only come in groups of meres. One day I hope to become more than mere.

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I lie still, hiding in early morning bedclothes as I drift upward, slowly ascending from a deep sleep and even deeper dreams.

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In my dawn slumber I am swimming in a sea of heavy rubber galoshes. The galoshes change size and distance as they surround me. I try to grab one to try it on. Maybe wearing galoshes will help me survive this fantasy.

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Then, suddenly, I am awake, relieved by reality in the tiny bedroom.

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I examine my surroundings. All is well. The galoshes I wear on rainy treks to school sit right by the closet, safely dry and patiently awaiting my small toes.

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When I follow the sounds and fragrances of breakfast, I find my mother multi-tasking in her kitchen. Each stovetop burner is bubbling into life a different surprise. Grits and eggs prepare themselves under her watchful eye, biscuits call out from the oven as they transform from doughy to fluffy.

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On one burner, a covered pot produces its own aroma. I wonder what it contains.

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“Goulash,” Mother proclaims. “We’re having goulash for supper.”

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My mind, just having suppressed a multi-galosh attack, immediately imagines a cauldron of steaming rainwear. Will the end product be chewy and tough?

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I race back to the bedroom and grab the tattered dictionary, so filled with mysterious words and meanings and spellings.

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“Soup’s on!” Mother calls. Now I’m really confused. Does she plan to serve a stew of galoshes? That can’t be, my struggling-to-grow-up brain tells me.

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There it is! The dictionary reveals all! Goulash does not ordinarily contain shoe fixings, so I won’t be dreading suppertime all day.

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I return to the kitchen and help Mom set and serve for us three kids.

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To this day, the special flavors and textures and odors of a lovingly prepared fast-breaking homecooked meal can make my stomach rumble in anticipation.

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I finish eating just as Mom says, “Better get you galoshes. It’s going to be a wet walk to school.”

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My eyes widen. I bravely go to the bedroom, glancing deeply into the rubber footwear for signs of goulash. I sit on the floor and poke my shod feet into the dark interiors.

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I am now girded for the next adventure

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© Jim Reed 2022 A.D.

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