CHURCH RETREAT

A human being can’t persuade Junior High kids to attend something they don’t want to attend.  I saw a brochure announcing a Christian retreat weekend for youth.  I almost didn’t bother - but on Sunday I decided to mention it to the kids in our class. 

Monday night my daughter asked me who was going on the retreat.  I said, “Nobody.”  She said four girls wanted to go, and could she go, too?  This coming from my child?  The one who will not even discuss church camp?

“Sure,” I choked. 

When she got off the phone I called the parents to see if this was for real.  Yes, yes, yes, and yes.  Five, counting my daughter. 

Later, I had to find a student willing to be a greeter at church Sunday.  The first one I called said, “No, because that’s the weekend of the retreat.”

“Oh?  You’re going too?”

I called around to rearrange some dates for the greeters and uncovered five more who were planning to go.

Eleven!  And by Thursday there were fourteen!  I called the person in charge of the retreat.  “We really hadn’t planned on such a large response,” she said.  “Could your church send an adult to help out?”

“Sure.”

MEETINGS

Praise the Lord, we had a meeting!  Now why, you might ask, is that a big deal?  Because, I might answer, it's hard to get our kids - all grown up though they may be - to dedicate a couple of hours to listening to me fuss at them.  At least, that's what they think will happen.  But it isn't that way any more.  Parents can grow up into civilized adults, too.

In the earlier years of our company, the four of us would get together to talk over our plans.  I began with a list of problems.  Susan described in vivid detail her vision of the future of our business.  Fred sat there bored, or mad, and took cigarette breaks.  George told us how it was in large corporations.  And I fussed and blamed everyone except myself for our problems.  They called me "Old Doom and Gloom."  And we all remembered our family slogan, "How many Clarks does it take to ……?"  You fill in the blank. 

Well, we met yesterday and successfully discussed our plans.  Hallelujah!  Miracles do happen!

GROCERY STORE

I’m 62 years old and, in my day, women did the cooking.  So I cook a lot of meals.  I had forgotten how intimidating a grocery store was when I was a beginner.  But today, as I strolled down the aisle efficiently picking things off the shelves, checking ingredients, looking for the sales on the little tags (which I had written on my grocery list before shopping), and rushing through doing what I’ve done a million times, I passed a young lady who was standing in the aisle staring at a selection of Asian foods.  As I pushed my cart past her, I heard her exclaim (to no one I could see) with a skeptical voice, “This looks like it’s for people who know how to cook!”  We both got a good laugh out of that.

I had forgotten that feeling of being overwhelmed.  In my younger days, I was embarrassed to ask a clerk where to find scallions because I didn’t want to appear stupid.  It was years before I found out a scallion was just a spring onion.

Nowadays, I don’t care.  I’m not trying to impress the young people.  That’s an advantage old people have.

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WHEELCHAIR PERSPECTIVE

 Our friend Rienk Mueller wrote a book before he died of ALS, or Lou Gehreg's Disease, which gradually paralyzes the body but leaves the mind intact.  He typed with eye movements.  Here's one of his stories:

"I discovered that once you are in a wheelchair people begin to relate to you in a different manner.  Some people will look at you and give you a smile while others will purposely ignore you, maybe because they think that a physically handicapped person is also mentally deranged and they don't want to have anything to do with you.

"For instance, we would go to a restaurant - with me in a wheelchair - and the waitress would come and ask my wife Audrey what I would like to order, immediately assuming that I was incapable of doing so myself.  That stung!

"On the other hand, there were many positive experiences.  On our way to Holland we had a layover at the London airport and our son Walter and I decided to use the men's room.  As he pushed my wheelchair through the door into the men's lounge, an Englishman looked at us and said while pointing to the right, 'There's a disabled toilet over there.'  I said, 'Thank you,' and almost added, 'but we are looking for one that works.'  It was hard to keep a straight face.  The man was so serious and was just trying to be helpful, but it struck me so funny to hear him say that in such a distinguished, typically British way."

Thanks to Rienk, I now make a point to speak to people in wheelchairs.  I never realized before that so many people avoid this.  How depressing it would be for people to pretend you're not there!

REINVENTING THE WHEEL

Starting a business from scratch isn’t for sissies - especially with no teacher.  We have developed, revised, and scrapped various systems (or should I say “experiments”) for getting the work out the door in a timely fashion.  That wheel has already been invented.  We just haven’t found it yet. 

Besides worrying, my job is to keep the books.  I’ve had to put into practice the things they tried to teach me in college.  I did know what a debit and a credit was.  Now I can read anybody’s balance sheet and understand it! Imagine that!

I haven’t found a way to relax yet.  My brain’s too full.  I’ve quit reading the newspaper, gardening, cooking, doing church work, cleaning house…  Didn't mind giving that one up, though.  When the stress really gets bad, I can make shapes out of the dust bunnies.  You know, like you do with the clouds?   

But I’ve learned to relax with Sudoku puzzles.  When I can’t make myself stop for anything else, I can waste an hour on Sudoku, forgetting everything except those little white pages.  You see, they have solutions.

HISSY FIT

A “hissy fit” is a temperamental outburst; a hysterical tantrum involving hissing and spluttering.  In 2004, The Daily Mirror reported Sir Elton John's arrival at Taipei airport:  "Sir Elton, who arrived by private jet for the final concert of a Far East tour, clenched his teeth in fury when he saw a crowd waiting for him at the airport. Exploding in an extraordinary hissy fit, the 57-year-old star raved: "You're all rude, vile pigs!"

A “tizzy fit” is when a baby freaks out, regardless of the age. A tizzy fit could involve knocking something off of something or screaming loudly into someone's ear.

“A conniption fit,” writes one blogger, “is a true fit, with flailing arms, shouting, gnashing of teeth, and stomping of feet. There is often colorful profanity and coarse language, or there may merely be inchoate roaring. Such fits are brief, and are usually associated with overt physical gestures.

 

To have a “nip fit” is to go absolutely ape shit, as in, "My mum caught me and David doing it on the couch and had a total nip fit."

"Conipshit" is a combination of the words in the phrase "conniption fit."

We had our business mail forwarded to our house twenty-nine days ago and it isn’t happening yet.  The forwarding Post Office said it’s somewhere “in the system.”  My home Post Office said when they see it they’ll deliver it.  The USPS Customer Service lady said she would report it to the Research Department.  The Research Department lady said that in the olden days they could have gone in and gotten my mail out of the stack to be processed, but nowadays with this NEWER, FASTER FASTER SYSTEM, they can’t do that. 

I had a tiz-hissy conipshit!

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EXIT SIGNS

Those darn exit signs! They show you which way to exit when you get to the exit, not before. You're in the wrong lane, and there are three lanes between you and your turn. It would make a great video game.

Some signs tell you too soon. The sign says exit ¼ mile, and it even has an arrow pointing right. You move to the right lane – and then the lane ends. You have to pull back into the lane you were in to start with – and, of course, it’s full of traffic.

And let's not forget the turn before the exit. The exit arrow points right. You turn right and you're in a shopping center!

Who's in charge of traffic signs, anyway? Hugh Mouse should be.