I'm totally amazed by the number of young people who don't know what anything means. What's more amazing, is that the Congress of the country have always got their hands out for "More education for our kids", when daily, the schools are churning out hordes of illiterate puppets who cannot speak correct English, cannot spell, cannot add, cannot think, and in general haven't a clue what real life is all about.
Take for instance the ordinary front or back yard, fenced for some reason which should be obvious to anyone who can reason: People fence their yards either to keep something in or something out. The rule of the country life is, Leave a gate the way you find it: If you are on someone's land and you come to a gate in your path, if it's open, leave it open. If it's closed: close it! If it's posted, pay attention!
Country folk leave gates a certain way for a reason. Stock access to water is probably the main one. Stock, for the uninformed, being animals of the country sort. Cows, horses, goats, sheep, etc.
In the old days, when people could think, even city folks understood country signs.
"Beware of Dog" meant that, if you entered, you stood a good chance of getting eaten alive by a biting furry fiend who did not like trespassers on his territory: a mean dog. This sign was generally respected.
Due to some glitch in my planning, I now live in town. I am now an old worn-out crippled up cowgirl who likes people to stay out of my yard and to keep my gates closed. The reason for this is, first, I have to get up everytime some salesman comes to the door, or interrupt whatever chore I'm in the middle of. My neighbors know this. They rap on the window or give a holler. Because it's a "cul de sac" it's a cozy community and we all respect one another.
Besides which, there are three dogs which live here, a nice, gentle friendly German Shepherd juvenile and two little fireballs who yap and rush out at any visitor. A lapso AZo something and a greyhound Chihuahua who attacks ferociously anyone who dares get near my Mom, including the leg that walks through the gate, even though my relic Mom is in her chair in the house.
When I bought the house five years ago I proudly built the fence around my front yard. I put up my sign, "Collies may lick you to death" as a joke, as the collies never bit anyone. They have departed for Doggie Heaven this past winter and Bravo the shepherd pup came to live with us, with his noble ancestry. The first night, a rug I'd put out to air disappeared off my fence. To boot, with dismay, I learned that all the cars coming and going across the way belonged to a viperous nest of druggies.
Up went my signs. No thievery did I want in my house. Nor did I welcome the door to door folk, as I like to shop for what I buy. I am a firm believer in the 2nd Amendment, thus posted the following signs on the fence and in the window and on the door:
"THE LORD GOD CREATED ALL MEN,
BUT SAMUEL COLT
MADE THEM EQUAL.
(Insert photo of long-barreled Colt .45)
To make sure,
I also posted, gun barrel drawing aimed at the beholder,
'IF YOU ARE FOUND HERE TONIGHT
YOU WILL BE FOUND HERE TOMORROW'
Next came the sign, "No Solicitors".
Pleased with myself, I retreated, figuring to enjoy a thoroughly sales-free existence behind my posted fence.
Suddenly an explosion of yapping dogs running to the door.
Knock knock.
Who's there?
"I'm so and so, and I'm here to---"
"Can't you read?"
"Yes, but --"
"The sign says No solicitors."
"I'm not a solicitor. We're in the neighborhood to replace windows, repair the roof , fix your plumbing, sell raffle tickets,....or....but I' not a solicitor."
"You're here to sell something?"
"Yes. Here's our brochure.---"
"Do you know what soliciting means?"
"Well, no, but I know I'm not one."
"Do you know what 'No' means?"
"Well, yes."
"Soliciting means selling something."
"Oh"
"So then, 'No Solicitors' means 'No Salesmen' --not to mention you might have been bitten by a dog. See that sign?" (pointing to the Beware of Dog)
"Um, I didn't see the sign."
Flash forward to 2014:
Note: Today's date is 7/06/2015. For some reason I did not post this draft, but am doing so now. I was probably intending to write more. Which has escaped me. Update: Mom has passed on, the two little dogs are gone, and there remains in the household me and Bravo. (yes, "me" and Bravo is bad English, but writers are entitled......)
Tuesday, July 7, 2015
Common Sense In A Long Line
or
ROAD RAGE at the LANDFILL
by
Norma A. Vincent
I think I remember a long time ago my son's telling me, "Never go the dump on a Monday. I guess I forgot, as my schedule this week included a Monday dump run of all the accumulation of throw-aways I'd gathered. I spent two hours loading the small trailer and then off to the Barney White road to deposit my unwantables.
Eyebrows raised at the long line, but what the heck, I was in no hurry. There is, however, a procedure to follow, and an "intersection" which has to be crossed, separating the car line from the big truck line and vehicles exiting the first building, which you bypass, across the intersection, and, coming out of the huge building where trash is dumped, the outgoing line which has to stop at this same intersection to let others, from the first building, in line or pass through.
When I got my stuff unloaded I was prepared for the long line and the stop at the intersection. As the line moved, usually one car at a time, someone else could join the line, (the way you let someone in your traffic line who is waiting to get in line), or the next car in your line would move up.
That is, until the pickup in front of the car ahead of me got to the intersection. He crossed all right, but when the cars in front of him curved around to stop just before the scales, this guy decided to wait until two cars had moved forward. No one behind him could move an inch. The trucks off to the left at the intersection couldn't join the line, and the one in front of me couldn't go anywhere. I finally got across the intersection and was astonished to see what this guy was doing each time a car ahead of him moved forward: He SAT THERE. (He was, in fact, eating his lunch....) Every time the line in front of him moved, he'd wait until two cars moved up, leaving a space which could hold one truck or two cars. After about two of these tortoise moves, I got out of my van and went over to his window. Two guys were eating sandwiches. I said, "Look, you're holding up the line. You need to move when a car moves forward." He had some excuse between bites of his sandwich, something about...(.I didn't listen). I was mad. I said, "People are waiting to get in line and you sit here. You need to move when they move." .I said, "Please," as I walked back to my van, figuring that would do it.
Well, the guy ahead of me amened, and the jerk moved forward, but---what the heck!---very next move, he did the same thing again. I honked my horn and hollered "JERK." (very good Christian attitude!!!)--and got a "thumbs up" from the man ahead of me but absolutely slow response from the Jerk. (By this time he was a jerk). FINALLY he moved up. I'll bet everyone in the back of the line cheered, as they were all stalled and the line going back clean into the building. Nobody could move because of this jerk. I was tempted to pull out of line around him and get in the space, would have served him right, but I had the trailer and figured I'd better not try). Would have taught him a lesson, though. Maybe not. I don't think he was open to learning anything.
When I got to the pay booth I told the cashier about that guy. Not that it does any good, but how stupid can people be? You don't leave "spaces" on ferries or slow moving dump lines! Or you get "No moving" lines.
Whatever happened to Common Sense and courtesy?
I don't mind waiting in lines, normally, but when jerks are in them I'll pass.
No more Monday dump runs for me!
ROAD RAGE at the LANDFILL
by
Norma A. Vincent
I think I remember a long time ago my son's telling me, "Never go the dump on a Monday. I guess I forgot, as my schedule this week included a Monday dump run of all the accumulation of throw-aways I'd gathered. I spent two hours loading the small trailer and then off to the Barney White road to deposit my unwantables.
Eyebrows raised at the long line, but what the heck, I was in no hurry. There is, however, a procedure to follow, and an "intersection" which has to be crossed, separating the car line from the big truck line and vehicles exiting the first building, which you bypass, across the intersection, and, coming out of the huge building where trash is dumped, the outgoing line which has to stop at this same intersection to let others, from the first building, in line or pass through.
When I got my stuff unloaded I was prepared for the long line and the stop at the intersection. As the line moved, usually one car at a time, someone else could join the line, (the way you let someone in your traffic line who is waiting to get in line), or the next car in your line would move up.
That is, until the pickup in front of the car ahead of me got to the intersection. He crossed all right, but when the cars in front of him curved around to stop just before the scales, this guy decided to wait until two cars had moved forward. No one behind him could move an inch. The trucks off to the left at the intersection couldn't join the line, and the one in front of me couldn't go anywhere. I finally got across the intersection and was astonished to see what this guy was doing each time a car ahead of him moved forward: He SAT THERE. (He was, in fact, eating his lunch....) Every time the line in front of him moved, he'd wait until two cars moved up, leaving a space which could hold one truck or two cars. After about two of these tortoise moves, I got out of my van and went over to his window. Two guys were eating sandwiches. I said, "Look, you're holding up the line. You need to move when a car moves forward." He had some excuse between bites of his sandwich, something about...(.I didn't listen). I was mad. I said, "People are waiting to get in line and you sit here. You need to move when they move." .I said, "Please," as I walked back to my van, figuring that would do it.
Well, the guy ahead of me amened, and the jerk moved forward, but---what the heck!---very next move, he did the same thing again. I honked my horn and hollered "JERK." (very good Christian attitude!!!)--and got a "thumbs up" from the man ahead of me but absolutely slow response from the Jerk. (By this time he was a jerk). FINALLY he moved up. I'll bet everyone in the back of the line cheered, as they were all stalled and the line going back clean into the building. Nobody could move because of this jerk. I was tempted to pull out of line around him and get in the space, would have served him right, but I had the trailer and figured I'd better not try). Would have taught him a lesson, though. Maybe not. I don't think he was open to learning anything.
When I got to the pay booth I told the cashier about that guy. Not that it does any good, but how stupid can people be? You don't leave "spaces" on ferries or slow moving dump lines! Or you get "No moving" lines.
Whatever happened to Common Sense and courtesy?
I don't mind waiting in lines, normally, but when jerks are in them I'll pass.
No more Monday dump runs for me!
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