Summer of '68.

 It was the summer of 1968. One year removed from the famed "summer of love". I was 8 years old and having a ball. Litterally. I had just started PeeWee League baseball in Gladewater, Texas. I would go on to play for several years and leagues. PeeWee, Little League, Pony League and Mustang League. I LOVED it! That being said, I feel like I should point out that I was only average at best, and that took a while to get to. I never even made the conversation when the powers that were were picking All Stars. But I played and had a blast! That summer (68) I could usually be found holding down the fort in right field. Right field, where they sent you if you were just a hair better than the worst player on the team. It didn't matter to me where I played as long as I got the chance. 

I can honestly say I was more than a little distracted standing out there in "outer Monrovia", since there were very few left handed kids to worry about hittng the ball to me. I had to pretty much entertain myself until we went in to bat. And I did so very well I might add.  One particular night will live on in infamy.  Some kid hit the ball off the end of his bat and it came slipping and slopping out to my area. I was oblivious.  It happened to coincide with the passing of the 8:30 Union Pacific Train. I was wrapped up watching the big locomotive pass and never saw the ball or heard the other players yelling at me! The center fielder had to run to right field and throw the ball in. Needless to say, that story has followed me for nearly sixty years. I laugh now, but I was horrified back then when I had to face the Coach and my teammates! Neither of those was as bad as listening to my older brother replay it for me and laugh...and point, too, as I recall! On another occasion,I attempted to throw a runner out from left field. Unfortunately I tried throwing the ball side armed. It had been raining earlier and the ball was wet. You know what happens to a leather ball when it gets wet? It gets slicker than snot on a door knob. The ball flew out of my hand and went straight sideways and out of the ball park into traffic passing on Pacific Street. Talk about embarrassed?! But, as time went on I got better and those mishaps were fewer and fewer.  

By the time I was 17 I had discovered that if I didn't have baseball practice in the afternoon I could pick up a few extra hours at work. That meant more money. That meant more fun. I said "Goodbye" to baseball and thus began the next forty-five years of working full time. It wasn't always fun like baseball, but it allowed me to do things a mediocre baseball player could never do. 

These days my shoulder is shot. Rotator cuff is worn to bone on bone. I can't throw a ball more than 5 feet, and even then it is severely painful. But I will always have the memory of those summer nights in the old ball park. Right field, trains, side arm throws and all. It was a great childhood.

It Sure Is Hard!

I made a deal with someone the other day. My half of the deal is I gotta give up Coca Cola. I love my Coca Cola. The fully leaded kind. None of that sissy Diet Coke for me! I have a long standing love affair with the fizzy drink and it's artificial coloring and sweeteners. For the past 50 years I have enjoyed anywhere from 4 to 20 of them per day. Every day. (The 20 a day was long ago when I was about 18.)  I am surprised my kidneys have not rebelled against me to tell you the truth!

So here I am, now two weeks into this cold turkey cut off. It is haaaaaard folks! I am drinking water from a place in Greenville called The Drop, or Drip, or something like that. It is billed as "alkaline water". Supposed to have a high Ph and other minerals in it and be good for you. So far I can't tell much difference.  It costs about the same as regular bottled water, so I am not complaining. I AM complaining about not having my cold, bubbly fix every day! But it's for a good cause. More than one good cause actually.

I have been needing to lose weight for years. Nothing worked. Fad diets were just that. They didn't work. Fasting didn't do a lot. Some, but not a lot. I even ordered some of the powder drink mix that I once used several years ago to lose. Couple pounds is all I shed. That and forty bucks. So I finally listened to my wife and decided to try giving up the Cokes. They are full of sugar ya know? Yesterday morning I stepped on the scales and I am at 277.1 lbs. Down from 284.4 when I began. That's 7.3 lbs!  I'm happy as a pig in mud with a traugh full of fresh slop!

At the current pace I should hit my desired goal weight of 200 lbs. in about a year. Bummer. A year! LOL. I can do it. I hope to be able to walk more in the coming few months as I lose the extra weight on my knees and hips. I will be joining a new gym that has an indoor walking track. It has many more features as well. I was sold when they told me they had a sauna!! I get two weeks free when I sign up, so I will be signing up this week. Probably tomorrow when I am in Greenville. I am excited to sweat! LOL. I just hope the high heat in the sauna doesn't cause problems with my heart. Wish me luck! 

Meanwhile...I sure could use some icy refreshment in a 12 oz. can. GIT THEE BEHIND ME SATAN, AND QUIT APUSHIN'!

I need Geritol. Make it a double!

 If you know me you know that I am an avid poster of videos on YouTube. (https://www.youtube.com/dannywmeeks) I love creating stuff, so it was only natural that I do it! 

This morning I posted a video that has already gotten a first comment. The comment was sort of unusual and out of left field, as they say. It simply said..."Thanks Grampa."  Grampa???? GRAMPA?! I was stunned for a second or two, then I started to wonder where the person got that idea. I know I am sort of old, at 66, but "Grampa"? Come on man! 

I guess I am technically old enough to be someone's grandfather. I know folks who became grandparents by the age of 40. But I'm still young and handsome!I can't be anybody's "grampa". No. I refuse and refute the guy's claim! 

Now...If you'll excuse me, there is a tall glass of Geritol waiting on me in the kitchen. There may also be some roast left over from lunch if I can find my dentures!

Fee For Stupid

 You may not be aware of it, but "stupid" comes with fees. Today I stopped by the bank to grab a couple of ten dollar bills for my upcoming haircut. As you know, you have to have your driver's license with you to make transactions at financial institutions. That is where the problem started. I turned my wallet inside out and emptied every pocket and opening. My DL was nowhere to be found. I have no earthly idea where it went, but it has most certainly disappeared.

Fortunately, I had my conceal carry license with me which had my DL number and my photo on it. I finished up with the bank lady and headed over to get the haircut. After leaving there I went straight to the DMV to see what my next step was going to be. As I walked into the DMV I noticed a sign that stated "You must have an appointment for business inside." Uh oh... I went on in and I got lucky. They were not busy at all and I was able to fill out a couple of forms and have a seat in the waiting area. I didn't have to wait long before they called me back to the unseen area where the magic happens. Thumb prints, signature, and photos. Then they hit me...FEES! Cost me $11 for being stupid enough to lose my DL!

I didn't argue about the fees, though. I was more than happy to pay the $11 for the right to hold and carry a piece of paper that would temporarily keep me out of jail in the event of a roadside conversation with the Po-Po! Having worked in the jail here in Hunt County, I am well aware that they can and will "run you in" for no DL! I was not interested in that sort of thing. 

So here I sit mumbling to myself about the lost DL and the fact that stupid comes with a fee. If you happen to see my old DL, please toss it in the trash can...Sort of like I did with that eleven bucks!

Have a great weekend! We'll Holler atcha!

"I Know A Guy."

 My family thinks I'm special. Not because of the things I can do, but because of the fact that I usually can't do stuff! Due to health reasons and limitations I can't get down low to fix things and I can't climb up to fix them either! So I compensated. You know how when a person goes blind their other other senses get stronger by design? That's sort of what has happened to me in my situation. I had to adapt and overcome in order to survive. 

So why does my family think I am special? Because anytime something arrises that I can't handle and my wife can't handle...I got a guy! From electricians to carpenters to my favorite local handyman, I know who to call. It may cost me a little, but I know the numbers to dial! 

Just this morning I met with Trent, my handyman, about replacing my deck and adding a ramp for easier access. I should have a quote soon. (I may not have the money, but I'll have the quote LOL!) Not long ago we needed a charger for an EV hooked up. I made a call and BAM! Problem solved. About 6 months ago we needed a roof put on our house. No worries. "Hey Jack. I need a roof." Easy peasy. Of course it all depends on the cost, but I always have a name to contact! 

I recently saw a T-shirt that pictured a cross and the words "I can't. But I know a Man." (BTW...He is a Jewish carpenter!) I love it! Because it is 100% TRUE! It's great having a list of folks in my head and on my phone that I can call in a situation that needs rectified, but WOW! I cannot imagine not having Jesus. If a situation arrises or I get in a bind, He is right there. All I gotta do is call on Him and it gets taken care of. You know the best part? It's already taken care of. There is no charge! Jesus has paid the price long ago! 

If you are ever in a spot where you need a handyman or electrician or plumber...I got a guy you can call. However, if you are ever feeling hopeless and helpless and think you can't hang on...I GOT A GUY! Just holler and we can get you in touch!

Getting Old Sucks!

 I have decided something...Getting old sucks! I'm only 66, but that's about 50 more than when I was happiest. Give or take a few years. I must say that I am a young 66, in my eyes. I feel young. I get around like I am not! The heart attack nearly 7 years ago made sure I would never be able to do the things I used to do for myself. Gone are the days when I could bend down and straighten up quickly. Today that would cause me great concern and a possible ER run! I bend down gently and stand up slowly. Even then it is an experience!

"Frustration" is the name of the game these days. I feel useless around the house. I want to mow the yard and weed eat it. Mowing is not the problem. Edging the yard is a thing of the past. I just can't do it without almost dying. Litterally. "Serious bidniss", my friends. I can't even work part time anymore. I worked from the age of 12 to my retirement at 59 1/2. The longest I was without a job was 2 weeks! After I retired I took a week off and decided that was for the birds. I went back to work selling cars like I had for ten years before I started work for the Sheriff's Office. Five weeks in I was just getting the hang of it again when the afore mentioned heart attack struck. That ended things...LOTS of things. (It nearly ended me!)

I was feeling great after my bypass surgery when, to my surprise, the Cardiologist said I was 100% disabled. Uhhh...Come again for big daddy? 

He said I would soon begin to understand. He was right. My ability to do the simplest of tasks without getting majorly out of breath was a surprise to me. I still do not understand it. I have tried asking the doc why it happens, but he has no answer (or at least he gives none). I still feel like I CAN do stuff. That just doesn't translate to actually doing stuff. Makes my butt want a dip of snuff! (As my grandmother used to say.) I get out of breath just walking from my car to door of Wal Mart. I did manage to get one of those hanging placards for handicap parking. I STILL get out of breath. 

So...getting old is not for the faint of heart or the weak of knee! 

However, it does beat the alternative. 

Oops! Sorry Big Dude!

 So the other day I was driving to the store, or so I thought. I had gone about a mile and a half when I realized I had left my wallet at home. Can't buy a Coke with my looks, so I had to turn around. That's where it got tricky. 

The road between my house and the little store I frequent is a two lane farm to market road. Not many places to turn around. I saw an indention on the side up ahead and decided to use that as a turn around. Now I saw the big rig 18 wheeler coming way down the road. No problem, I thought. He was a considerable ways from me. I whipped into the spot and threw it into reverse. Still time. No hurry. I backed out onto the road and put 'er in drive and I heard this air horn going off. It was obvious the driver was upset at me for being in his way. How he got to me from where I saw him in such a short time leads me to think he may have been traveling at above the posted limit! I don't guess I could blame him for being upset. I WAS "sort of" in his way. He could and did easily go around me, blaring that stupid horn.  I had my window down so I heard him loud and clear. 

What's funny is I am friends with the guy! I recognized him. I knew the truck and where it works out of. I had to laugh. Next time I stop by the guy's shop I'll apologize for getting in his way...IF my ears have stopped ringing from that blasted horn! 

Know what? I want one of those for my car! That or a train horn! Yeah, a train horn! That's it! THAT'S the ticket! Then I can answer when someone gets mad and blasts me with a big rig horn! PLUS I can scare the bejeepers outta slow moving folks in the hammer lane! 

I can hear it now...