M - Maurice Smith

I have written many times about how I was not the most adept at social intelligence while in high school. I had earned the nerd title years earlier and had settled well into my role. I knew who I was and if I ever forgot for a moment, I had someone nearby to remind me and put me back in my place.

However, those people who kept me in place were restricted to my school life. Since I spent most of my waking hours there, I had subconsciously allowed them to affect how I defined myself even outside of the school building. Though, sometimes I forgot who I had been told I was and took on a different persona.

The place this was the most obvious was at my church.

My brothers and I were quite active in our church youth group. We went to every activity, concert, camp, trip, and outing. And we were lucky to be in a church that had a vibrant youth ministry.

Over the course of the many years I spent in that church, I saw a few different youth ministers come and go and I have several I remember fondly. But this post is about a particular one named Maurice Smith. Maurice was largely responsible for allowing me to explore who I was outside of the confines of my school-appointed identity.

Maurice's leadership of the group was over 30 years ago and I honestly don't remember much of it. However, I do remember a few key practices he had that the previous leader did not. Maurice believed in handing us more responsibility for ourselves and our group. He aimed to make us leaders.

When at school, I was timid and understood the social rules and what could and could not be gotten away with but at the church I was outspoken. I made decisions. I made my opinions about things known and actively participated in discussions.

Part of this confidence came from the way Maurice practiced the duties of his ministry. I remember handling a large part of the logistics for bringing a band into town when I was only 14 years old. Our church was hosting a youth music festival and there was a lot that needed to be done. Rather than the church just taking care of all the details and telling us when to show up, Maurice delegated out the tasks that needed to be done to us. And we did much more than set up chairs.

A tent needed to be ordered and set up, an outdoor stage had to be brought in, the band had to be hired and all their demands met, and tons of other things involving food, games, seating, transportation, advertising, et cetera had to be taken care of.

Maurice saw all this as a learning opportunity. He put me in charge of securing the band and staying on top of the communication with them. And I did. He was always there to offer help, but I did it.

After the completion of the show, the group decided to start a small production company to bring more big-name acts into town. And with Maurice's leadership, we did just that. I was even the president of our little company. We only put on a few small shows, but it was very empowering for a bunch of young kids.

This is just one of the many examples of how Maurice reshaped the way I thought about myself. When I was in this setting, I was not only more outgoing but I was one of the leaders. However, I did not notice this contrast until one particular church event.

There was a girl in our youth group that went to my school. One Sunday evening, we were having a cookout at a member's home and she had invited two of our classmates. Both basketball players.

I had no idea they were there. I was in the back helping with setting up the meal while most of the youth were out front playing a game. When everything was set up, one of the adults asked me to go call everyone to the back to eat. I ran around the corner of the house to yell to the crowd and noticed the two guys from my school.

Suddenly, I was tongue-tied. A timidity crept over me that kept me from yelling for the crowd. The guys did nothing wrong and were not people who gave me trouble at school, but their presence intimidated me.

I went quietly from group to group telling each of them and the exodus toward the food started without me having to really put myself out there. I didn't even realize I had switched back into school mode, but Maurice noticed.

He called me out on it later and helped me recognize what had happened. I had suddenly stifled who I was because of a couple of people who were in the room. He then helped me see that if those two guys caused me to hide that much, then I was probably totally hidden every time I actually walked into school. And he was right.

Maurice made sure that I recognized I was a fairly popular and well-liked person everywhere except school. And it may be difficult to break free from high school stereotypes, but I had to take some responsibility for how people saw me. There are a whole host of reasons for why I had become withdrawn at school, but that was not what I had to do. That was just the reaction that had grown comfortable to me. If I was willing to step out of my comfort zone, I could take a little more control.

This realization did not change me overnight, but it did start a process. It challenged me to be me. Not just when it felt safe, but all the time. To go ahead and put myself out there. That conversation with Maurice was a direct cause of what lead me to talk to Jeff (story here) who became my best friend and best man at my wedding. This also lead to my last semesters of high school being incredible.

Maurice laid the groundwork for a couple of years before the events of that night, but I view the conversation that evening as one of the pivotal moments in my life. And I cannot thank that man enough.

Thank you, Maurice. You have no idea the difference you made for me.

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This month, I am participating in the A to Z Challenge. Each day this month, people around the world are writing blog posts and working their way through the alphabet. Each person decides their own personal theme. I am writing about people who have affected my life.

G - Glen Crocker

At some point in my high school years, there was a man in my church named Glen Crocker who took a special interest in me. I don't remember when it started, but I remember before I had my license my mother drove me to Glen's house to dig up his septic tank. I spent the whole day out there. His wife fixed me lunch and we sat out in the back yard and talked about life.

It's always cool when an older person actually pays attention to a teenager. Not a lot of people do. Plus, he was actually interesting to talk to. He often had me out to his place to clean the gutters, clear out the basement, clean his garage and other things. He was retired and had money to pay to have this stuff done but he "didn't like people I don't know messing around in my stuff." So, as long as it didn't require special skills, I usually got the job.

Occasionally, he needed to drive somewhere out of state to pick up an item or go do something (I really don't remember) and he would pay me $20 just to ride along and have someone to talk to. Easy money.

After I got my license, I could get to his house on my own. He always had something he needed to be done and I went over there at least a few times every week. Eventually, his wife got bored with the retired life of nothing to do and wanted to start a business. He started a video rental store for her to have something to do. This was the mid-80's when everything was VHS tapes. (Be kind. Rewind.) When she got tired of that, he had this business to run. So, I started hanging out there.

Sometimes I would spend the whole day sitting in his office listening to him tell me about life, about how to succeed in business, about how to woo a girl, about how to get the best deal on a car. I think he felt the same way about me as I felt about him. He liked having someone who listened to him.

And I really did listen.

He taught me how to tie a necktie. He drilled me for hours one afternoon about the correct way to shake a man's hand. He made me sit through mock job interviews to learn how to always steer things in my favor.

Glen had spent most of his career as a corporate salesman. He was a salesman, but he dealt in multi-million dollar deals. He closed deals with whole corporations, CEOs, business presidents. He knew how to read people and how to work a room. He believed I had the personality and the temperament for this type of work, but there were many skills that had to be learned. So, he was always trying to teach me.

He joined the sales team of a water treatment company that was trying to expand their market into our area just so he could drag me along. He talked them into letting me be part of the team despite not being 18 years old. Since this was going to be door-to-door sales, they did not want minors knocking on strangers' doors.

He had me wear a recorder on my jacket to record every conversation I had with a customer. I know that sounds creepy, but it was so we could listen to it afterward and he could point out "what I should have said" or "where I missed an opportunity" or how I could have gotten the sale. Sometimes, he would make me go back to a house where I had failed to try again. This always seemed ridiculous and scary to me because they had already said no. But Glen believed that until the person died, the sale was always possible. So, with his encouragement and a specific set of directions, I would knock on that door again. And most of the time, I walked away with the sale. He was an amazing teacher.

Right after high school, I moved up north and sold Electrolux vacuum cleaners door-to-door. Glen wasn't around anymore, but I did not forget his lessons. I had a reputation in the Electrolux office. This was said in a sales meeting: "If a person makes the mistake of letting Brett inside their house, they are buying a vacuum cleaner."

A few years later, I sold cell phones. I won Salesman of the Quarter for the entire company several times. I give Glen all the credit for me being able to do those things.

At the time, Glen was just the old man who I respected because he actually heard the things I had to say and he had plenty to say that was interesting to listen to. He was just one of the people in my life at the time. Looking back today, I realize that he was a very important character in shaping the man I became. Not just in sales, but in many areas of adulthood.

Thank you for your guidance, Glen.

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This month, I am participating in the A to Z Challenge. Each day this month, people around the world are writing blog posts and working their way through the alphabet. Each person decides their own personal theme. I am writing about people who have affected my life.

Maybe Society Should Have a Warning Label

Every now and then, something happens in America and I get to hold my smug head high and say "Not me, I don't live there." I may be from the States, but I've been safely on the other side of the world in China for the last 18 months. Therefore, I will accept no responsibility for the events that have prompted some of the recent headlines.

Tide Pod Challenge 

First, let's not even get into how stupid someone has to be to think that eating soap would be a good idea. For generations, parents washed kids' mouths out with soap as a punishment. Now, the kids are doing it willingly. There are plenty of jokes already written about this and a ton of memes. You've already seen everything floating around social media and can look them up for yourself if you wish.

Stop discouraging people from eating Tide Pods. It won't work. The whole reason the world's in the mess it's in goes back to the very first people being told NOT to eat something.

— Minor Character (@brettminor) January 23, 2018

People (especially young people whose brains haven't fully developed yet) doing stupid things is not really surprising. Still stupid. Feel free to shame them all you like (I know I do). But not surprising. A huge percentage of the world's population are idiots and always will be. What surprises me is the reactions that people have to the stupid trends.

Facebook, YouTube, Twitter, Pinterest, Google and other sites started getting pressure to remove all videos featuring idiots eating Tide Pods. Some sites even started giving 'strikes' to people who uploaded content showing people eating Tide Pods. Some people have even suggested holding these companies liable for even having the videos. Click here for an article explaining it all.

Tide even hastily threw together a video to stop people from ingesting their non-food product.

What should Tide PODs be used for? DOING LAUNDRY. Nothing else.

Eating a Tide POD is a BAD IDEA, and we asked our friend @robgronkowski to help explain. pic.twitter.com/0JnFdhnsWZ

— Tide (@tide) January 12, 2018

I find it pathetic that pressure was put on them to have to say anything at all to the idiots who are well aware of what they are doing, but I respect the attitude that Tide took with their public service announcement.

They have been active in getting information out there about not eating laundry detergent and have helped to get internet videos removed, but they have stated that they will not change the appearance of their product. To read the article, click here. To summarize their stance: Stupid people are stupid people and we cannot change that. You're lucky we are even acknowledging these idiots. There's already a warning label on the box. That should be enough.

And I couldn't agree more.

It bothers me that pressure is being put on anyone to do something about this. No one is to blame for any idiot older than a toddler purposefully chewing on a Tide Pod. Not a website, not the manufacturer, not another person who did it, no one other than the person who made this choice. That person is a moron and YouTube cannot be blamed for that.

YouYube also has videos showing how to grow a garden, fix your car, ace an interview, etc. If you just have to do something you saw on the internet, have an honor student help you choose a better video.

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Next topic, Crock-Pot Mania

SPOILER ALERT: If you are a watcher of the hit TV show This is Us and are not familiar with the big plot-twist that happened earlier this week, do not continue. You have been warned.

Now, I do not watch This is Us. I am not really even sure what it is about, but it is in the news this week because they killed off one of the main characters. Jack Pearson, the "world's greatest dad" dies in a house fire that was started by a crock pot.

Now, other than entertainment news, this doesn't seem like much of a news story. However, it has grown into something more. This sometimes happens when people are stupid. If you haven't noticed, this is the theme I am running with.

People all over the country are looking at their crock pots with suspicion and wondering if they are safe to have in their homes. It has gotten so bad that both the writers of the show and crock pot companies have had to issue statements explaining the safety of these devices.

Apparently, many of the fans of this show don't realize that this crockpot was a fictional item that was 20 years old and had a faulty switch that "had to be fiddled with a little" to get it to work. Emphasis on the word fictional. This was a literary device used to produce the outcome the writers were going for. They could have used an electric knife, a dishwasher, just faulty wiring, or had him stumble down the stairs and break his neck. That's it. But…as with the Tide Pod Challenge, people are stupid. Now, they're scared of their slow cookers. I don't even know what to say.

Maybe we could learn a lesson from Mexico where even their drug lords are more trustworthy.

Good. Nothing to worry about. If there's anything I know about international drug lords, it's that they're impeccably honest. pic.twitter.com/ZyvbgHN3Xa

— Minor Character (@brettminor) January 26, 2018

"J" is for Journalism

For my 'J' post, I was going to write about my days as the only man on the journalism staff in high school. As I was going through the old issues (25 years old), I came across this article about that exact subject. I will add it here word for word.

I did not write this. It was written by one of the girls on the staff. Anything in RED is my addition today and was not a part of the original.

THE MAN BEHIND ALL THE LADIES

by Stephanie Allison

Brett Minor is the only guy we have in journalism. I thought that it would be nice if we were to find out the motive behind him taking this class.

Brett decided he needed one more credit for English and he really didn't want to take English IV. (I was scared of English IV. I heard we had to write a lot.)

I asked if he liked being in a class with all girls and he replied, "Being the only boy in the class is a lot of fun, but it also has its problems. I get to hear all the latest gossip. Girls are better gossipers than guys are. I hear about everything that happens almost as soon as it happens."  
**Brett, ladies are NOT better gossipers than guys. We just talk about more interesting things than they do.** (Not true. They were better.)

Brett also commented that being in a class of all girls has improved him as a person, but also has its disadvantages. He said, "The girls in this class are not the least bit reluctant to talk about their problems or anything else just because I'm in the room." Brett sometimes feels that being in a class with all girls causes a losing position when it comes to our class debates. He said, "Debates are the worst part of journalism, especially fights about a girl being mad at a guy for any reason. If I stick up for the guy, I have nine girls on my case at once." (I was naive and hadn't yet learned that it is always the man's fault)

"I am not anti-feminist, but my views and opinions are not exactly the same as the ladies in the class."

When I asked Brett if he had a chance to do it again, would he, he said, "YES, definitely." (DUH!…Nine girls to myself!!!)

Brett said, "I have learned things about girls that I never knew before! I won't explain."   
(Mostly about their periods)

After talking to Brett, I asked the rest of the staff what they thought about Brett, and what it was like having him around the room. (I was really scared of this)

Here are the answers I received:

Traci: I think it's great to have a guy on the staff. Brett always has funny articles on his pages, but sometimes I forget he is in the room and say something that he should not hear. Also, when all of us females get together for a gripe session about guys, Brett gives us his opinion, which is sometimes not worth a dime, but that is beside the point. (See! I hadn't learned yet.)

Deana: Brett is a great guy to have on the staff. (That's right, Deana) He just quietly sits there and lets us gripe about all life's problems. (Because I care) He usually puts in his two cents here and there. He contributes interesting ideas and thoughts for the paper. This makes him an asset to the paper.

Lynn: Brett helps a great deal on the paper. His witty articles make the paper more interesting. I think he has a lot of guts for staying on the staff with all us girls. (Bravery? Not a trait I was normally known for)

Susan M: I think Brett is a good writer for the paper and he helps out a lot. He even discusses our problems with us. (Like I said, I care)

Susan P: Brett is a great help while typing and running off stencils and putting the paper together on the night before the paper comes out. (I lived close to the school) His articles are very innovative and original.

Allison: Brett has been a great help on the paper. His articles are always very interesting and somewhat amazing. I remember the day school first started and all of us girls on the staff talked about EVERYTHING. We really had to watch what we said, but now we don't care. We figure he has heard it all.  (Once again, menstruation)  
**(BUT HAS HE??????)**

Sabra: I find Brett's articles very funny and interesting. (I am still accused of not taking things seriously) I think it's really great to have a guy on the staff.

Angie: Well, Brett is very quiet in journalism, but sometimes he says the funniest things that we girls tend to take out of context. (Always misunderstood. Still true today.) I love to hear him and Traci get into fights and how they tell us the things they do together. Brett being here doesn't seem to bother us. I still talk about everything because it doesn't seem to bother him (or me). Remember the day I got in trouble, Bert? (Bert was my nickname in high school)   
**Tracie doesn't think that the statement about what they 'do' together is a very good one.**

Stephanie: Well, I guess it's okay having a guy on the staff, but then again, I really don't know what it was like not having a guy on the staff. (It was her first year) As for Brett, I think his articles are pretty good. (Just pretty good?)
**Was this bad enough about you, Brett??**


None of them ever did go out with me.
 

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Happily participating in the Blogging from A to Z Challenge. For the entire month of April, 1,889 bloggers are working their way through the alphabet. One letter every day but Sundays for a total of 26 days.

Click here to visit the website and get more information to see if you might want to join in next year. It's a lot of fun, introduces you to hundreds of new blogs and gives your writing some fantastic exposure.

I Used To Work In Porn - Part Two

This post is a continuation of the post from yesterday. Before reading, you may want to visit this post to get caught up.

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As explained in yesterday's post, I had accidentally fallen into a way to make money and had started looking for ways to make more. Suddenly, finding myself surrounded by hard-core pornography, I had an idea.

Kids didn't have access to this kind of stuff. Other than sneaking looks at the Playboy's in their dad's closets, this was unavailable to people our age. However, I had access to a lot of it and I was just positive they would be willing to pay.

Over the course of the next few weeks, I found any excuse I could to ride my bike into town. This town was in the city limits and I lived a few miles out. I would go into the abandoned house, load up my backpack and ride back home to put the magazines in boxes under my bed. It took me a few dozen trips to get them all. Occasionally, my friend who found them was available to help me, but most of the time, I was on my own.

The second floor of our house consisted of only the bedrooms of my brothers and myself, so my parents didn't come up there very often. I used this fortunately convenient privacy as an opportunity to start sorting through these adult publications to get them in some sort of reasonable order. Once I felt that I had a decent grasp on my inventory and was familiar with what I had, it was time to find buyers.

I never got caught with anything at school, but there were a few close calls. A bunch of students standing and giggling in the middle of the hallway while crowded around something had a tendency to attract the attention of school faculty. I quickly decided that was too risky. I needed another tactic.

On the weekends, I would load up my backpack and make house calls. I went to kids' houses and showed them what I had. Since, I had paid nothing for any of it, every sale was pure profit. I sold most magazines for five dollars, but I quickly discovered that junior high kids really had no grasp on what stuff was worth and could sometimes sell a magazine for as much as twenty. I could really pull a lot of money by cutting one up and selling individual pictures for a dollar or two a piece.

I know these prices sound outrageous, but a sixth grader would give me anything he could get his hands on in order to have his own picture of a naked woman.

I would go with my parents to a wedding and gather several kids to go outside and see what I had brought. Soon the money would start changing hands. I sold porn to kids from my school, kids from other schools at basketball games, kids I had never met at weddings and anyplace else that I could. Looking back on it, I have no idea how I never got ratted out by any of them.

Eventually, my friend who had originally found all the magazines, decided he wanted a bigger cut of the money I was making. I had been paying him 10% since he was the one who had found them, but did not feel that he was entitled to any more since he wasn't doing any of the work and was incurring none of the risk. However, he did not agree. Finally, he demanded that I give him half of the magazines that I still had or he would inform my parents of what I had been doing. I stood firm and decided to call his bluff.

He wasn't bluffing.

He showed up at our house the very next day and told my mother. Now, he either didn't tell her the entire story or she missed some of the details during the shock of what she was hearing, but when she came to talk to me, she didn't know about the porn ring I was running out of my bedroom. All she knew was that I had pornography in my possession.

When she told me to retrieve the magazines out of my room, I will never forget the look on her face as her jaw dropped when I came down the stairs carrying two large paper grocery bags filled to the top. When I turned around to go back to my room, she said, "Where are you going? We aren't done here."

I sheepishly answered, "There's more. I'm going to get the rest."

My poor mother spent the next couple of hours trying not to look at the dirty pictures as she cried over a burn barrel while ripping them up to toss in the fire. I sat in the house wondering what would happen when dad got home and found out.

I know NOTHING!

When she asked my little brothers if they had seen my magazines, thankfully, they both covered for me. They claimed they didn't know anything about them. They may have just been covering their own butts, but had Mom known that my little brothers had been subjected to that filth as well, I would have been in much more trouble.

I didn't get into as much trouble as I thought I would. In fact, I never heard a word about it from my dad, but my future as a porn empire magnate was over. Being so young, the money I made was not spent on anything substantial. I have no idea how much passed through my hands since it was being spent as I made it. I remember that I always had a soda when I wanted one and I could buy a book or video game for myself if my parents said no. Soon it was all gone and I had nothing to show for it.

I ended up back where I started and had to go back to selling lunch room tickets, but I was smarter than before. However, it would be many years before I would be able to use my new knowledge. Turns out that real life was not like those magazines.

I Used To Work In Porn - Part One

This post inspired by the writing prompt at Can I Get Another Bottle of Whine With My Morning Quiet Time?.  Writing prompt: When I was younger I tried...

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When I was younger I tried to manage a pornography ring.

I know that is a heavy statement. Let me back up and explain.

When I graduated from elementary school and entered high school, I was scared out of my mind. I just knew I would get stabbed the first day. If for some reason I did survive, I would have to spend all my energy dodging junkies, avoiding getting sucked into a gang and practicing to "Just say NO!"

When I actually got there and lived through my first day, I concluded that it wasn't that bad. I was a puny nerd and it was still a bit intimidating, but I was more comfortable than when I first entered that morning. After a couple of weeks, I began to get a feel for the place.

I very quickly began to notice some of the differences from the years before. In junior high, we paid for our school lunches well ahead of time. Our parents could pay for the entire year up front or cover a month at a time. If they were behind, they would get billed and catch up, but high school did it differently.

The high school sold lunch tickets to be presented in the cafeteria in exchange for a meal. These tickets could only be purchased before school or during lunch period from the guidance counselor.

One ticket = one cafeteria meal = $1.

One week's lunch. It all started with this.

Every Monday, my parents gave me five dollars to buy a week's worth of tickets for my lunch. I bought them as soon as I got to school and put them in my wallet. However, not everyone had the foresight that I did. Many students never thought about their lunch until the lunch bell rang. Then they would have to go stand in line at the guidance counselor's office to get a ticket before crossing the parking lot to the cafeteria to stand in line again to get their food. By then, all the best stuff might be gone and they had already lost almost half of the already short 30 minute lunch period.

One day in class, I pulled the tickets out of my wallet to rip one off and stick in my pocket. The bell was about to ring and I didn't want to waste any time. It was pizza day and I wanted to be ready to bolt as soon as I heard that bell. 

A guy in the next row saw my tickets and asked if he could buy one. He had forgotten to get his earlier and didn't want to stand in line and miss the best pizza. So, I sold him one. That caught another guy's attention and I ended up selling all I had, except the one for me. All that meant was that I would have to buy more tickets the next morning. It was no big deal.

The next day, I was asked again if I had extras. I said I did and sold them, but griped that they should plan ahead and buy their own. Once again, I had to stand in line the next day to replace them. I hated standing in that line and vowed that I would not sell any more tickets. It just wasn't worth it. It's not like I was getting anything out of this......WHOA! Wait a minute! What if I could get something out of it? If I made a little bit of money, it would be worth it.

When I was asked for my extra tickets right before lunch the next day, I held my head up and demanded $1.50.

DUMB JOCK: "What? Tickets only cost a dollar."

ME: "Wrong. The guidance counselor charges a dollar, but she doesn't sell tickets in this room. This room is my market and here they cost $1.50. If you don't want to pay it, then go stand in her line."

While he thought about it, the guy behind me decided it was worth it to be able to avoid the delay and lose all that time. He paid me what I asked for, which prompted others to do the same. I only sold four tickets, but that meant I had made a two dollar profit. I used all that money to buy more tickets and keep doing the same. Within a couple of weeks, I was buying 10 to 20 lunch tickets every morning before school. I sold them at a 50% mark up selling out almost every day. I averaged $25 to $40 a week in profits. Not bad for a 14 year old kid.

Like most people, I got a little greedy and wanted to make more money. I tried jumping the price to $1.75, but no one would buy at that price. It hurt my sales which killed my profits and I quickly dropped the price back again. Since I always had extra money, I tried loaning some occasionally. I would buy someone a soda or candy bar if they agreed to pay me back within a week plus a little extra. I even carried a pocket notebook around to keep track of my transactions. However, being a little nerdy guy, I really had no way to enforce collections if someone stiffed me. It never occurred to me to hire a bruiser, so the loan shark game was short lived. I went back to all money up front.

Soon, I lucked upon the knowledge that there was a way to get two sodas from the soda machine when only one was purchased. After school, I stood beside the machine and would offer to get students an extra soda if they paid for one and a half. Sodas were $1. If they put a dollar in the machine and then gave me fifty cents, I would get them two sodas. They got more than they paid for and I made fifty cents per transaction. That added a few extra dollars each day to my profits, but it was too slow. I needed something bigger.

It wasn't long before bigger happened. A friend of mine was wandering around town and decided to go into an abandoned house one weekend. This house had sat empty for well over a year and he just wanted to see what was inside. He discovered a closet full of pornographic magazines. He told me about it at school the next day.

As a 14 year old boy, I was very interested in seeing these magazines and accompanied him to the house the following weekend. I was amazed. There were literally a few hundred magazines of all types. Up to that time, I had only seen a couple of Playboys at a friend's house, but these were different. They were not standard publications. They were not just full of naked women. They were hard-core porn and a lot of them. I had never seen anything like what was in these pages and it occurred to me that most other kids hadn't seen this stuff before either. Remember - this was years before the internet.

Then, the idea hit me like a thunderbolt. Other kids hadn't seen this stuff. I was sitting on a goldmine.

Everything about my little business was about to change, but this post has gotten long enough. I will wrap it up in the next post. I know it seems unfair since I just now finally got to the porn part, but there was a lot of back story.

For those of you who are overly excited and are unsure if you can wait for the porn, I hear that there are plenty of other sites that can accommodate you until then.

Back In My Day...

Earlier this week, I was teaching a class to a bunch of high school kids and they got to talking about how difficult their lives are. They all complained about the hardships they had to endure because of their parents.  I tried to convince them that their lives were not as bad as they thought they were, but they insisted that they had it rough. I asked them for examples of their mistreatment and got the following answers.

• "It's not fair that my parents make me use a cell phone that only has a 4 megapixel camera."
• "I have to share a bathroom with my sister."
• "My mom won't let me have a ferret."
• "The cable TV in my bedroom didn't have HBO."
• "My cheapskate dad bought me a car that can't even play MP3s on the stereo."
• "My laptop doesn't have a webcam!"

As I tried not to laugh at their ridiculous claims about hardship, one of them noticed my stifled laughter. "Let me guess. You're going to tell us we don't know how good we have it and tell us stories about walking to school in the snow?"

I assured them that I had no such stories, but it was true that they had no idea what hardship was. However, since they wanted to direct it back at me and I always keep my laptop with me, I decided to treat them to a little slideshow.

I have been scanning all our family photos in my computer over the last few months and had the evidence I needed with me, so I didn't need to look very hard. I hooked it up to the class Smartboard and showed them photographic evidence of the real hardship I had experienced as a youth.

For the kid who thought he had it so hard because he didn't have HBO in his bedroom, I showed him what life was like before cable. We had a TV, but we used it like an end table. We would sit in front of it for hours pretending we were one of those rich families who had things like television reception.

Cousin Tabatha, Kyle, me
They weren't always in our size.

While the kids today are decked out in Hollister, Abercrombie & Fitch, Ocean Pacific, and Affliction, we had to wear hand-me-downs.

Hand-me-downs from the 70's!

Trevor trying to stay cool

 We didn't have crazy luxuries like air conditioning either. Sitting in an ice filled cooler in front of a fan was a good as it got.

Trevor hoping the dog doesn't fart again.

This picture was for the benefit of the girl who thought she was being mistreated for being forced to share her bathroom with her sister. We would've loved to have a bathroom and would have happily shared it with the entire family. We didn't concentrate on it much since we didn't have several of the other conveniences kids today are accustomed to.

Kyle was never ready for bed

Kyle had to sleep in a box because my parents refused to waste money on frivolities like beds.

Trevor would scoot down the stairs if not weighted down.

Trevor slept in a clothes basket when he was a baby. We had to put heavy books on top so he wouldn't crawl all over the house.

In chest: me  Closing it: Trevor

I would get shut in a chest each night. Once I brushed all the spiders out, it wasn't so bad.

It wasn't always this way. Eventually, the day came along when Dad announced to us that he was going to build us each our own room. We were so excited. He got to work on the construction and soon presented us with our new living arrangements.

Me, checking out my new place

Here was mine. I had to share it with the mouse traps and the paint, but it was all mine.

Trevor being ungrateful, as usual

This was Trevor's. I thought it was unfair that he had so much more space.

Kyle's really didn't change much.

Red the Cow. Tried to kill my grandmother once.

Next, I addressed the girl who had been whining all through class about not being able to own a ferret. My first pet was a cow and we eventually ate it. None of them could admit they'd ever had to eat one of their pets.

One of the girls piped up, "Well, at least you got to have a pet!"  This was true, but I tried to illustrate for them what having a pet meant when I was a kid. We didn't just have pets. We had to take care of them.

Before I was even out of diapers, I had to feed the cows every morning.

Stupid dog turned over the bowl again

After the cows were fed, I had to make sure the dogs had water.

Trevor: 25 feet off the ground
This cat wouldn't stay off the neighbor's roof

As the years passed, I was happy to get little brothers to share in taking care of the animals. Trevor always went after the ones that wandered off to bring them back home.

The choke hold rarely worked,
but Kyle insisted it was more humane.

Kyle took care of exterminating the ones that got sick.
I just didn't have the stomach for it.

Animals weren't the only things we had to take care of. My parents piled the chores on us as soon as we were able to walk. While kids today complain if they have to take out the trash, we had much more for which we were responsible.

Me learning my way around a hoe

There was gardening to be done.

Trevor and Kyle enjoying the smell

The lines had to be dug out when the sewer backed up.

Kyle doing some dirty work

We had to clean Dad's catch each afternoon.

The neighbor would use our lawn mower,
so we made his daughter work for us.

Harvest the rice patties.

Trevor was always best at tuning out the crying

Babysit the neighbors'kid

Me emptying the hair filter

Clean out the pool.

Me taking measurements for drywall

Remodel the bathroom

Me biting Trevor's fingernails
since I wasn't allowed to use scissors.

When younger, having to take care of little brothers.

Dad and Me

Bring Dad his beer after a long day of fishing.

Me and Kyle

And finally fix dinner, so we could clean up, get to bed, and start again in the morning.

By the time the bell rang signaling the end of class, I had the kids convinced. It took the entire class period and I didn't cover any of the material that their regular teacher had left in the instruction book, but I think I taught them a valuable lesson that day. I have had 40 years to work on my sob story. I do it so much better than them.

Working for the Man

She doesn't look like she would have
homicidal thoughts, but it is a dark
place inside her head.

Another of those milestones has happened that helps to assure me that I am a grown up. My daughter Kirsten has gotten her first job.

She started working at Arby's about two weeks ago and is learning what it means to have a job. She has already gotten to experience the heartache of learning that her friends are getting together and she can't go because she has to work.

So far, she hasn't worked longer than a three hour shift, but still complains when she comes home about how much her feet hurt. I try not to laugh.

She works the cash register and takes orders for people. She's seeing first-hand how nasty and mean some people can be. She has never before had to deal with the public in this manner and is quickly losing her faith in humanity. She already has a disdain for most people and this is just helping to solidify her belief that the world would be a much better place if she were allowed to kill people that ticked her off. Legislation is pending.

Her brother worked at this same restaurant for four years and was instrumental in her getting this job. He didn't want her to get grounded for not finding a job like he did when he was sixteen. He has learned a few things.

Arby's treated Christian well while he was there so I don't have many concerns. There are several places that take advantage of teenage workers knowing that they are new to the work force and don't know any better.

EVIL EVIL EVIL MACHINE

My first job was at Rax, a roast beef place similar to Arby's. They had a clock in/clock out rule that was not fair to the employees, but I didn't realize this until years later. They would round the time cards to the nearest quarter hour, but made sure that it always fell in their favor. When you came to work, you could not clock in until 7 minutes before your shift. If you clocked in a minute earlier, it would round back to the last quarter hour and you would get paid for 7 minutes you hadn't worked. This seemed fair enough, but they timed it that way for clocking out also. If you were scheduled to get off at 10, they would keep you busy until 10:07 to get those 7 free minutes. If you missed it and didn't get to the clock until 10:08, then you had to keep working until 10:22. Once again, to get those 7 free minutes. They did the same for clocking in and out for your breaks. On any given shift, they could get up to 28 minutes of free work out of their employees. Over the course of a pay period you might lose a few hours off every check.

My next job was at Bonanza. I was a busboy. On my first week of work, I got into trouble because I would come in at my scheduled time, clock in and start working. They didn't want their busboys to do that. That wanted us to come in and sit in the break room until we were called. We were required to be there, but were not supposed to clock in until the restaurant got busy enough that we were needed.

That means that I spent many, many hours sitting at work not getting paid. I wasn't allowed to leave, but was not getting paid. They would get us one at a time as the business picked up and occasionally would send someone home after sitting for a few hours. As a teenager, I was happy to go home and not have to work, but hadn't considered that they were demanding my presence, which means they should have been paying me. Years later, I received a check as a result of a class action lawsuit against them because of this illegal practice.

A few years later, I worked the midnight shift at a gas station. I was there by myself and was given a list of things to do every night. Besides this list, I had to take care of customers, watch the pumps to make sure no one drove off, keep the trash taken care of and keep the coffee pots full. Since the station was right off the interstate, there were a lot of customers. I got chewed out every morning when the manager came in and found that I had not completed the list.

I couldn't get him to understand that it was not possible. One of the tasks was to clean the pumps. The way he wanted them cleaned would require about three hours to do them all. That job alone made the list impossible to fulfill. There was about twenty items on the list and three of them were large jobs like the pumps. I honestly could not have completed that list even if I didn't have to worry about customers.

Adults know better and do not normally get taken advantage of in these ways. So when my kids entered the workforce, I tried to keep an eye out to make sure those things did not happen to them. Arby's seems to be a good place to work for a teen and I don't think I have much to worry about. She just needs to learn to deal with people.

Now if I could just get her to bring home roast beef sandwiches like her brother used to.

Crossing State Lines

My daughter Kirsten is sixteen and a junior in high school. She has two years left before she will be headed off to college and I will have this house all to myself. However, today marked one of those milestones that made her want to go right now. Her boyfriend Charles left for college this morning.

His school is about a six hour drive from here in another state, so they will not be seeing each other regularly on weekends. He might make it back home once or twice in a semester. I have split feelings about this.

I have had a couple of years to get used to the idea of my daughter having a boyfriend. I can even witness him kiss her with only a minimal spike in my blood pressure. I have tried to teach my daughter to be strong and independent. I raised her to know who she is and not to ever be defined by her relationship with another person or to allow her tastes, opinions, feelings or desires to be decided by someone else, whether that be a person or societal expectations. She is growing to be that woman and I couldn't be more proud of her.

The topic of Charles leaving for college came up last week over dinner and another adult advised Kirsten to move on and live her life. Do not put her life on hold and wait for him. This advice goes right along with the spirit of the lessons I have taught my daughter over the years and I couldn't agree more....sort of.

While the adult side of me sees the rationale in the advice and I would probably give the same advice to any random teenager, I have a selfish father side as well that wants to protect my daughter. While he is away at college and she decides that he is the man for her, that means she is not dating anyone else. I have absolutely no problem with that. She is basically not dating as long as he is her boyfriend and school is in session. No father would complain with those circumstances.

On the other hand, should a sixteen year old be making this type of commitment? You only get to be young once. Would this be considered putting her life on hold for a boy?

I have decided I have no problem with this and there is one main reason for it. I like this kid. Kirsten has not had a lot of boyfriends, but of the ones she has dated, only two have been quality guys. The last one moved to Georgia. There were a few that were okay. They weren't bad kids, they just took up space. There have been a couple I really did not like. One of them was so bad, I forbid her from ever seeing him again. Yes, I am that type of father. It was for her protection. That kid was trouble.

I wish our culture recognized the wisdom of arranged marriages. Then, I could just forbid her from dating until I found the perfect man for her. I would do a bang-up job, but very very few would make the cut.

The guy she is dating now is great and is the reason I have no problem with this. As long as she considers herself his girlfriend, she is not bringing home some other idiot. Plus, he really is a great kid. His parents were my youth ministers when I was in high school and his father baptized me. I am well aware of the stereotype about preacher's kids, but it is just a general rule of thumb and does not always apply. Charles is attending a Christian college to prepare to be a missionary. He is well mannered, respectful, courteous, never rude and very funny. Most importantly, he treats my daughter very well.

It is these and other qualities that make me happy to see that she is holding on to him. Kirsten is only sixteen and I am not trying to get her married off. It's too soon to think about such things, but one day she will end up with someone. With each guy she has brought home, I couldn't help but imagine what her being married to him would be like. Most of the time, I haven't liked the future I saw for her. Wanting the best for my daughter, I am happy to see that she has found a quality man. As long as she is with him, she is not with some other random douchebag.

I am not suggesting that she needs to marry Charles. Once again, it is too early for that kind of talk, but it is comforting to see that she recognizes what a good guy he is. I am totally supportive of this relationship, but don't tell him.

(You Gotta) Fight For Your Right (To Party)

In my last post (read about it here), I told a few stories from my teenage years concerning events that happened when my parents were not at home. In that post, I briefly mentioned a party that I would cover in my next post. This is that post.

This was not the first time we had been left home alone. We were plenty old enough to not need constant supervision. Although, that may be debatable after reading this post and the last one. They would occasionally have an overnight somewhere, but this time they would be gone for several days. I don't remember where they were going or why we weren't going with them.

They left in the middle of the week and our small group of friends were at the house almost every night. By small group, I do mean a small group. It was other five guys that we spent most of our waking hours with anyway. Most of the nights that week were spent hanging out in the yard, drinking beer and just goofing off. There were a few mishaps, but that is to be expected with eight unsupervised teenagers.

When the weekend finally came, there was a party about a half mile from our house in an open field. For you folks raised in the city, this is pretty commonplace for country youth wanting to have a party.

There is a reason for the song.
Thank you, Toby Keith.

1. Locate a large open area with little to no traffic and away from any roads.
2. Spread news about location.
3. Buy a keg
4. Buy several hundred SOLO cups (very important)
5. Hire two big guys to stand by keg and charge $5 to drink for the night
6. Make a buttload of money

Since it was so close to our house and we knew that there was a reasonable chance of consuming massive amounts of alcohol, we decided to walk. Normally, when parties were held at this location, walking would be out of the question, because stumbling into the yard when your parents are home rarely ends well. For my brother Trevor, drinking and returning home at all was usually a bad idea. On one occasion, his friends pulled into the driveway, dumped him in the front yard and sped off before their car could be identified. They did their job as friends to get him home safely, but weren't about to personally look my parents in the eyes and hand him over.

Apparently, these kids don't understand the
significance of the red SOLO cups.

We arrived at the party to over a hundred other teens exercising their right to have their rights removed if they caught. It was a great time. Dozens of pick up trucks with their tailgates down to sit on and visit with your friends. Various cars had their doors open and stereos playing. Some cars were parked on the perimeter facing in with their headlights on to give light. It was your typical teenage redneck country party. We were having a blast and were much more carefree than usual because we didn't have to worry about driving or sobering up before heading home.

Things changed about eleven o'clock when it started raining. Since we were out in an open field, there was no shelter. Once everyone realized it wasn't going to let up, that was the end of the party. As everyone was driving out along the lone tractor lane that accessed the field, several cars stopped to offer us rides. A few, realizing the irony of us walking intoxicated back to our house, learned of our parents being out of town. Word spread through the crowd pretty quickly. After accepting one of the offered rides, I was dropped off at my house to discover that about 30 people were already there. Luckily, one of those people was the owner of the keg, so the party continued.

As much fun as we were having, we were very much aware of the fact that this was happening in my parents' home and we did our best to protect it, short of asking everyone to leave.

• I recognized the queasy look on a girl's face in time to grab a large mixing bowl and catch the noxious fluids flowing from her stomach, thus saving the carpet.
• We made people pay attention to where they put their drinks to prevent them from spilling. Plus, we didn't need any rogue evidence being left behind to be discovered later.
• A girl decided she needed a bath and passed out in the tub in our only bathroom. Trying to be a gentleman, I declined to go in when she wouldn't answer (most bathers are naked), but was worried she would drown. I finally got one of her friends to check on her. She was out cold and I had to go in anyway to help get her now slippery body out of the tub.
• We kept the vacuum handy to take care of spilled ashtrays and various other messes.

It was a very stressful evening, but we felt we had a handle on it. The sun was just started to peek over the horizon about the time the revelry was coming to an end. People were passed out in various states of undress all over the living room and kitchen. I collapsed in a chair and quickly fell asleep.

A few hours later, I was snapped awake by a knocking on the door. The bright sun stung my eyes and I carefully stepped over the bodies still littering the floor. I tripped over a pair of pants and was wondering what they were doing there. I looked around the room and noticed that a few people had lost a portion of their clothing over the course of the night, including one girl that was clothed in only a sock. There were several other people in their underwear and a few girls that were topless. Whether these people had disrobed voluntarily or been pranked by someone in their drunken stupors was beyond me, but the person at the door knocked again, so I continued my journey across the living room.

I opened the door to two smiling faces who asked if they could have a moment of my time to tell me about Jesus. They were the Jehovah's Witnesses that had been canvasing our area for the last couple of weeks.

Under normal circumstances, I would have turned them away. However, I was suddenly acutely aware of the condition of the room I was standing in and despite my alcohol-induced haze and wanging headache, I love to watch people squirm when uncomfortable, so I invited them in.

I stepped back so they could come inside and waited as their eyes adjusted to the light. The toothy smiles vanished as they scanned the room. One of them started to turn back toward the door and quickly decided against it. He slowly began to smile again while the other one still stood with his mouth hanging open.

The smiling one asked, "Would there be a better time to come back?"

I waved my hand and replied, "No. I'm not doing anything right now. You caught me on a good day. Let's go to the kitchen. Would you like some coffee? Oh, watch your step."

The three of us started working our way through the room stepping over half naked teens. I bent down to pick up a bra, "Sorry. The house is a bit of a mess."

As I held up the bra, the one who still wasn't smiling, but had started to sweat profusely, took a quick step back onto the leg of the naked girl. She shouted an obscenity and punched his foot. "Watch where you're going, idiot!"

He immediately ran out of the house leaving the smiling one behind. As soon he got outside, I could hear him crying.

"Is something wrong with him?" I asked in my best confused, innocent voice.

He grinned bigger than ever and said, "He must have forgotten something in the car." He handed me a copy of the Watchtower and said he would go check on him. He slowly turned and chose his steps very carefully over the sleeping drunks. Once outside, he helped his sobbing partner into the car and they sped off.

I carefully found my way back to the chair and fell asleep smiling, knowing the party was a success.