As Requested, A Piece From The Past

We're on our drive to summer camp. Traffic that morning was bad. The car in front of me is slow, I mean slow, and I can tell the sucker is on his cell phone. I can't move right, I'm stuck. I get, well, mad.

Me, "Mumble, mumble, sorry "bad word" so and so."

I regret my words almost immediately. I look over at Little Bit and she's turned away as if the bloomed lavender Crepe Myrtles were the most important objects in here little life. I felt bad.
We move along at a silent snails pace for a few more minutes.

Then I say, "Sorry, Honey."

Her, "Papa."

"What, Honey?"

"It's okay, Papa, he can't help it."  I glance over with one of those questioning looks we all give children. She continues, "He's only a Democrat."

Silence. Then, "Little Bit."

"What, Papa."

"Why did you call him that?" She's still looking out the window, hasn't moved.

Her, "Papa, I love you more than orange juice,"  in a rapid little voice, quick.

My heart broke. She now thinks she's in trouble for something I said and she feels her response has placed the blame on herself.

This is all my fault and it began many months ago. It's all due to my big mouth and my impatience with others. Allow me to explain, please.

We were driving down a busy city street, and like above, a driver had cut me off. Little Bit was with me, of course, and without thinking I yelled, "Damn Democrat." She heard and remembered and had seen the person in the car.

Thirty minutes later we're standing in a checkout line at our local Publix grocery store. We're second in line. The lady in front of us is swiping one plastic card after another. Each swipe the cashier would say, "Sorry, it's rejected."
I began to mumble. Little Bit looks up at me, takes my hand and in a crystal clear very loud voice said, "It's okay, Papa, she's just a Democrat."

Now, I'm a fairly large man, I fear no human. I have a great deal of respect for others but I know my limitations and have long outgrown the need to pick fights, so when I say I wish I had had a place to hide at that moment, I mean it.

If looks could kill they would have that day. Yet, it was my fault.

Back to the ride.

I turn to Little Bit after she said she loved me more than orange juice and reached over and took her hand. Said, "Sweet heart, Papa isn't mad at you. It's okay. Please look at me." She looked over and I continued, "I love you, you're not in trouble. Papa is mad at himself and I'm sorry I said those words. Do you understand?"

Silence. We're close to her school and I feel the need to heal my habit and heal her hurt feelings.

"Little Bit."

In a small voice, "What, Papa."

"Sometimes I use words I shouldn't. Words that can hurt other people's feelings and I will try real hard not to say those words again." She's locked her little brown eyes on mine. "Please, Honey, don't repeat bad words you hear Papa use, okay."

I pull into the driveway. She sips the last of her morning orange juice. Then, "Okay, Papa, I won't."

I helped her from my truck and she reaches for my hand, "I still love you more than orange juice, how much do you love me?"

"More than the whole world, Little Bit."

A kiss and she's gone.

(This is a post from July of last year.)



Stephen

Email Update

Thanks to my friend, mmasse.


mmasseMar 8, 2012 08:54 AM

Just a minor annoyance with the email. Just as long as you remember to type your email in every time (especially when replying) it does not miss the "t". My daughter loves the pajama days. It usually means a good movie as well.

There, now you know how to avoid the problem when you email to my Comcast address. 

Thanks, my friend.

Stephen

Bits & Pieces

This morning we have short sleeve and sunglasses weather. It's tough to live in Florida. I've had two great days here at work. My biggest problem are those people that ask, "What was wrong with you?"  I'm sick (no pun intended) of giving out explanations.

Recently a local idiot here in town walked into his work place (a school) and killed his boss. A nice lady, then turned the weapon on himself thereby saving the justice system time and money.  Then, the local leftest media jumped on the gun is evil bandwagon.

Now I'm not a blogger that gives out second hand news. I give you, the reader, credit for an above average intelligence, I mean after all you are reading the mess I write, and I know you have smarts enough to read at least one newspaper a day and watch Fox news and glace, once in a while, at the Drudge Report. But having said that I do want to point out the inevitable event that occurs after a 'gosh let me shoot my boss because he or she fired me today.'

First day - he used an AK-47 'assault rifle.' You moan, "Yeah, here we go again..."

Second day - (real report) How did he ever 'legally' obtain one of those 'assault rifles?' Get it, legally.

Third day - He had one hundred rounds of ammunition and the 'assault rifle' had a thirty round 'clip.' I swear to all that is Holy, the leftist media interviewed a 'firearms instructor' that gave the last statement. He said, 'clip.'

Forth day - Let's ban all AK-47's.

We're at day three.

The idiot used a an everyday 'run of the mill' Romanian WASR that can be purchased legally at any local gun shop for between three and five hundred dollars plus tax. A semi-auto rifle....

Give me a break.

(click)

I seem to have a problem with my email. It's been brought to my attention numerous times. It isn't my fault folks, the problem belongs to Comcast and they admit it and can't seem to correct the problem. So, I have another account. I don't like it but if it's necessary and you feel the earth shatter and must indeed send me an email I will use it. I do receive most, not all, of your emails. If you find you get a message back after you've clicked away and the last 't' in Comcast has been dropped, don't panic.

Use, Stephen5150 at ymail dot com, and I'll try to check it daily. This email account doesn't automatically ping my computer like the Comcast address so your mail might sit for a couple of days...I promise to check as often as I can remember.

I'm days late in reading your nice blogs. I shall make an attempt today or this evening to catch up. I'm sorry I haven't posted any comments, but please understand I'm a full month behind in my labors. And, it's tax season and my Quicken program bit the dust a few months back which leaves me a bucket full of little receipts to manually add and subtract on my little machine....it isn't fun. Rest assured, I still keep tabs on you.

Little Bit was all happy this morning. It's 'pajama dress day' at her school. She was a little uncertain about stepping from the truck for breakfast. She asked if people would make fun of her and I said, no. She was cute as a button and everyone would think her pretty. She smiled and walked tall and proud into the restaurant and all the 'old farts' stood and gave her a smile and good morning. She blushed.

Above taken this morning.

Have a great day.

Stephen

Catch Up

I'm really behind the eight ball here at the shop. I've several weeks of 'stuff' that need my attention. I'm also deep into gathering all the little bits and pieces for the long dark and deep tax season. It isn't fun.

All this to say I will write, I hope, a far more interesting post as soon as heavenly possible. I've some good material, but lack the time.

I believe you'll like 'Mr. Know It All.'

Now, please excuse me while I sweep away a few cobwebs. And, again, my sincere thanks for all of your kind wishes and prayers over the last few weeks. God bless each of you.

Stephen

Thanks & Welcome

To my new friend and follower, Jayme. She writes the nice blog Family Best. Please, take a few moments and run over say hello. I'm sure she'd enjoy your company as much as I do yours.

Jayme, I promise to always reply to any comments...again, thanks and welcome. You are now among friends.

Stephen

Busy

I'm here but very busy. My first day back at the shop. Will write when I have a chance...feels so good.

This next is at the request of Little Bit. It was story book dress up day at her school.

See you guys later...

Stephen

Treasures Lost

It's a peaceful morning. Sweet Wife is hard at study for her job - she reads piles of documents as the wind whips the trees and scuds the clouds into a frenzy. The hard rains passed late this morning and has left us with gusts that exceed forty miles an hour. With no other sound in the house other than my breath and the click of this keyboard it's hard to stay awake. I need to get back into a novel.

My pretty friends, A Girl and Her Gun, and kymber, left remarks on my last post about encyclopedias. It made me recall, years past, when I dumped (literally) my last two sets in a dumpster for my move cross country. As I said to them, I deeply regret that awful and stupid act. But at the time all I held in life was a truck, a dog, my guns (wrapped in oiled wool blankets) a few clothes and two boxes of books (all first editions) and my life savings. I didn't have room for two sets of heavy and bulky encyclopedias. I even left my Labrador Retriever, Dixie, with a close friend, although I have her portrait framed and hung on my office wall.  

Back to the subject, encyclopedias. After our brief exchange on the subject I had this overwhelming desire to rush out and purchase another set. I need them like a hole in head but none the less there is a void in my library.  I did mention to kymber that as soon as I pass a thrift store or Salvation Army outpost or even a Goodwill store I will take time to stop and scan their shelves for a set. I hope to find another set of Britannica, but at this point I settle for those below. Yes, it's Russian.

 
There's just something warm and gentle about the feel of an old book, even an encyclopedia. If you're lucky enough to own a used leather bound set take it in hand and caress its covers and allow it to tell you of its journeys. Know in your heart some child has held the volume and dreamed of lands far away and has taken in the knowledge of its facts. It's very possible, some weary farmer, in his home snuggled deep in a river valley, sat before a fire with his wife and read aloud those passages of the founding of our nation. I'm sure they roamed from the swamps of Florida to the iced caps of both poles to the shores of Africa by nothing more than the flip of a time scented page. 

Some treasures just can't be replaced by a computer.

Stephen