Come On And Take A Free Ride.

You may recall Tom Barnard from one of my earlier blogs.  I worked with Tom in Chattanooga for many years.  Tom was a confirmed bachelor and one of the best people you could know.  He would do anything within his power for you. Tom was not a handy man kind of guy.  He once called the power company when his bathroom light went out and it was only a tripped breaker.

Tom would buy a new vehicle every year or so and would sell the one he had.  In addition, he would move from apartment to apartment periodically for some reason I still don't understand.  When he changed abodes, he usually bought new furniture and would either sell his old stuff  cheaply or even give it away.  Since most of us co-workers were poor, young couples, we pretty much stood in line for Tom's next move. It was after one of these re-locations the following occurred.

My wife and I had gone to a local convenience store one evening for something.  While I was inside paying for the goods, Linda hollered for me to come outside saying, "You've got to see this".  Well, Tom had moved again and the "vultures" had moved in on his furniture.  He had given his old couch to Gene Satterwaite.  Gene had enlisted the help of Stan Fugate, who had a pickup, and, along with Tom's help, were moving it to his own place.  Stan and Tom were riding in the cab of the truck and Gene was laying on the couch in the back of the truck drinking a beer.  After leaving the four-way stop at the intersection of Ely Rd and Delashmitt, Stan accelerated enough to cause the couch to come out of the back of the truck bed with Gene riding it like a bucking bronc.  By the time I got outside they were carrying it across the street to reload in the truck. They never saw us.

Gene never dropped his beer.  When they returned to work the next morning, the plant cartoonist already had a sketch on the bulletin board.

Tom and Gene would later make the plant cartoons when they unloaded their boat on the side of the road when the tie-down strap broke as they rounded a curve.  I think alcohol might have been involved in this incident as well, but I can't say for sure.

I Didn't Mensa My Words...

How do you measure intelligence?  I am sure that if I "googled" this question, I would find thousands of articles written by various academic experts.  They would probably produce arguments about IQ tests and various other academic studies that measures a person's ability.  They would quote famous people and include a lot of words that us country boys can't understand. There would be talk of  medians, means, standard deviations, margin of error and other stuff. 

Having spent a career in the chemical industry, I had the opportunity to work with some very talented engineers.  Some had BS degrees and some had PhDs.  During the early 2000s I went to the plant medical section to see my friend, Doc Webb, the company physician.  As I walked into the medical section, Rick Stimek one of the above mentioned engineers was leaving his office.  When he left, Doc, a pretty smart guy himself,  asked, "Who do you think is the smartest person on the plant?".  Without hesitation, I responded, "I am".  He said, "What? Do you think you are  smarter than Rick, to which I replied, Yes"  "What about Dubnansky"  "Yep", I said.  Then he said, "What makes you think you are smarter than they are?"  My response was, "It depends upon whether you measure intelligence horizontally or vertically"  For example,  I know about Boyle's law, and other chemical engineering standards, but do I know enough to design a chemical plant?  No?  On the other hand, do either Rick or Rich know who won the American League batting title in 1954?  I do!  So, who is the smartest?  The person that knows a whole lot about something or someone that knows a little about a whole lot?   Was Albert Einstein smarter than Ken Jennings?

I remember asking my Mother one time what was my IQ and she wouldn't tell me. She gave me some philosophy about "Potential only meant that person hadn't done nothing yet" And, that only effort and attitude mattered.  To this day I don't know if it was low and she didn't want to hurt my feelings or it was high and she didn't want me to rest on my laurels. 

I have known people that I thought were smart and were not successful in life and some highly successful people that were not all that bright.  I remember a college professor with a PhD in Chemistry that couldn't figure out how to keep his dog in the back yard.  He kept checking the fence and  gates and each time when he put him out back, the dog would beat him to the front door.  His neighbor who was a high school graduate that worked at one of the local refineries solved his problem.  It appeared that the professor's house was built on piers and the dog would just run under the house.

By the way, it was Bobby Avila, Cleveland Indians 2B and he hit .341.

Super Hero Retires, Names Successor

Press Release: 

Today in an unexpected move The Super Hero known as "G-Man'  announced his retirement along with his Sidekick, Buddy.

 

"After nearly 50 years of fighting crime, promoting justice, and trying to live the 'Texan Way', my Sidekick,  Buddy,  and I have decided to retire from a proactive role of reducing evil and protecting damsels in distress where ever we are called.  Sidekick plans to spend his time collecting things,  reducing the size of his storage and the naming of Hwy 105, Super Hero Highway.  I plan to devote my energies to my Fantasy Football team, coaching and counseling aspiring apprentice super heroes and providing guidance, motivation and vision to my legion of fans and followers, mainly those that can be found in Section BB. 

Being looked up to by so many has taken its toll, and, I have to admit, I have slowed down a bit.  While attending the Royal Wedding, I had to get a running start to leap a tall building.  Sidekick has lost some efficiency as a master of disguise.  He was recognized in Hooters several months ago.  After much discussion over cheeseburgers, we have decided to turn over our stardom while we are still on the top of our game.  

The world will not be left defenseless with our departure as we have prepared for this moment for many years.  We have had many apprentices in training and have selected the most talented one to take my place.  We have worked many assignments together and he has performed in a talented and professional manner.  His talents are well suited for the 21st Century and the changing cultural we are experiencing.  I would like to take this moment to introduce,  Abdul, New Super Hero                        

Side kick and I would like to encourage everyone to be honest, do the right thing and call your Mamma's. We will continue to support the principles of truth, justice and the Texas Way.  Those wishing to make donations should designate them to the "George W. "Buddy" Fortune Backstop Youth Center" fund.  Peace and God Bless Texas!

This Rescue Didn't Require a Super Hero

Pattie at the Bath

( With apologies to Ernest Lawrence Thayer)

The outlook wasn’t brilliant for the Cardinal nine that day
The score was 3 to 3 with but 3 more innings left to play.
And then when Mena died at first and Jude didn’t hit the ball,
Pattie left her seat to answer Mother Nature’s call.


As Pattie left unnoticed, Buchanan got a hit
Then Zentek drew a walk before Pattie could even sit.
Mathis stroked a single as we all stood up to cheer                                              
Pattie was in the process of recycling her last beer.


With the Cardinals out in front, with a one run lead
Kat received a call from her sister who was in need.
It was then that we realized that Pattie was not in her seat
She failed to witness the significance of Mathis’s fete.


Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light
And somewhere men are laughing and somewhere children shout
But there is no joy at Vincent-Beck, The pretty Pattie is locked out.


Note:
While watching a college baseball game between Lamar and McNeese, Pattie went to the rest room and got locked in the stall. She had to call her sister, Kat, on her cell to come get her out. The two Caywood sisters are big baseball fans and have had seats in Section BB for several years. When she returned, everyone in our section was shaking their keys at her. While driving home, I recalled the poem of my youth, "Casey at the Bat" and shamelessly stole from it.