Visiting a town about an hour’s drive from my home turf, I saw this “neighborly” greeting. Apologies for the scruffy look, but given the sentiment, a decided reticence to spiff things up seemed to be the wisest course. Even pausing to take the picture was a bit nervewracking. First, a hurried look to make sure no one was walking across the parking lot, then a quick, swooping shot to immortalize part of the reason the area has fallen on hard times. It is a cold and snowy place, but the hearts of many of the area’s residents will never melt.
Cell phones are ubiquitious. A convenience for most and helpful in myriads of ways, cell phones are a necessity on occasion, even a lifesaver from time to time. Most of us have one. I have one.
There are times though, that I just shake my head and wonder, “What are you thinkin’, Jethro?” Especially sad are the parents walking around with their children while having an extremely animated conversation with the voice on the other end of the cell phone. Important message, get milk on the way home–something brief and to the point, then hang up and pay attention to your kids.
Having a fight in public is never comfortable for the innocent bystanders who just want to get out of the way. Screaming into a cell phone while walking down the street is just plain rude. The rest of us might have sympathy for you under different circumstances, but when the choice is made to make the rest of us participants just because we had the bad luck and unfortunate timing to be on the same street corner at the same time as you and your phone, all empathy disappears.
Whatever it is can wait for the right time and place. In the meantime, pay attention to your kids, and quit fighting in public. If you only had a brain, or a heart….
Reality is that one has to be a gardener with a slightly warped sense of humor to truly appreciate the joke, but we all know someone who would do this in a heartbeat. Belongs in the same category as a Christmas or Birthday gift that has a cord attached.
PS: Editing the cartoon to a readable size was a tad tricky. For a better view, click directly on the picture, then wait for it to open in a seperate window, making it easier to read. For your convenience the caption reads “Give a woman some flowers, please her for a day–Teach her to grow flowers, please her for a lifetime.” Thanks for your patience.
A-a-a-h-h. The wind in your hair. The roar of the engine. That exhilerating sense of freedom. Motorcycle season has arrived in this part of the country. It’s time to share the ride and share the road.
In the early 1970’s, Robert Persig wrote a philosophy book that actually had very little to do with a state of Zen, Buddha or even motorcycles. Great title, though. I am sure that there are those who do feel as if they are close to nature–experiencing an exhilerating epiphany of sorts as they roar down the highway. Strikes me as a tremendous oxymoron (inner peace vs outer noise), but who am I to quibble with how another internalizes the experience.
What I do quibble with, however, is the large percentage of motorcycle enthusiasts that are not as generous when it comes to how others get to enjoy the day. Packs of 20-30 riders at a time go roaring past disturbing my attempt at any kind of quiet afternoon. Forget trying to sit outside and read a book. If it happened once on any given weekend day, I could be give it a by, but come the first warm holiday weekend, it happens intermittently all day, all weekend. Call me grouchy, but it’s getting way out of hand. Cars have to have mufflers that meet a certain standard. Seems to me that it’s only fair that motorcycles should have to do the same.
What really cracks me up is the Brotherhood, expressing their individuality. It’s almost a cliche: blue jeans, black t-shirt, grey mustache, mirrored sunglasses. Motorcyclists pass each other going opposite ways on the same road. Each stretches out the inside hand in a low salute, a gesture of friendliness or kinship or solidarity. A sign that they get it and we non-riders don’t. If they really want some respect, ride responsibly. The young ones fly past my driveway at 90-100 miles an hour on their jock rockets. Slow down. If the packs want to be neighborly and friendly, do some of that aforementioned maintenance and stick a real muffler on it….
Innocently answering the phone this evening, I was slightly amused, but not belly laughing, when the caller responded to my “Hello” with, quote “Who is this?” using an extremely nasty and angry tone in her voice. How dare me not be the person she thought she was calling.
Although not the most mannerly way to talk to me, I decided to give her a pass, laughing as I responded: “Let’s start from scratch. Since you called me, how about if you go first?” Her reaction was to say something very unpleasant, (a two-word phrase, one word having four letters), and emphatically hang up. Sigh.
A refresher course for those who have forgotten that a little courtesy greases the world in a myriad of ways. When calling someone, it is considered pro forma to identify yourself first, then ask for the person you want to talk to. Secondly, if you did dial the wrong number, have a sense of humor about your own foibles. Say “Sorry” or “Excuse the ring” or “Next time I should put on my glasses when using the phone”. Any such response will leave both mildly bemused. Tossing out a sucker punch instead is so low class.