Monday, July 06, 2015
I was at Goodwill today with a truck load of stuff donating and I heard my name hollered out, my first and last name "Eddie Hunter!"
To hear your own name hollered out across the parking lot is music to ones ears. Most of the time when someone hollers in a parking lot at me it goes something like, "Hey You! Come back with my pocketbook!"
It was a lovely friend doing the hollering, which even made it more musically. Beth Baker Sorrelles came down from the north Georgia hills for a dentist appointment.
What Was In the Locked Box
Going through my late mother-in-law Marie's belongings we occasionally come across things that takes us by suprise.
One of things we have come across is a little strong box with a lock with a keyhole, a small safe, probably fireproof. We could not find a key.
It was heavy. We wondered what was inside - collectable rare coins? Saving bonds?
We haven't dealt with a locksmith a long time. We went to the one we last used, about 20 years ago. His locksmith shop was in a small little building behind the Dairy Queen on Canton Road. The last time I was in his shop it was a hoarders disorganized junk from locks, keys, and all lock accessories and also all Harley accessories. He was a biker wannabe. He and his mama was buddies. She sat in his squalor of junk and watch soap operas and other day time TV while he went on house calls.
Another time, I remember he paid us a house call for a lock on our house. After he finished and I paid him I walked him to his van he looked next door and told me my neighbor Bob was no good, he still owed him a lot of money.
I did not know it then, but found out later that Bob's father-in-law probably owned the building behind Dairy Queen that he worked out of. I know he owned some land within feet of the hose that he got rent from.
I went back to the little shop to see if the guy is still there. Surely his mother was dead by now. I knocked on the door and someone told me to come on in. I opened the door and saw that the insides of the little building is very neat and orderly. A very neat middle age was studiously working on something at a work bench.
I asked him was this still a locksmith. He said no, the man that was a locksmith retired years ago.
Anna and I goggled locksmiths in Marietta, Woodstock, and Smyrna area. There was a lot of locksmiths but only one with an address.
Anna called him. He said if we would bring him the safe he could find the right key to use. He also told us several scenarios that according to what he did it would either cost us much more or much less.
He said there is only one problem catching him in the shop. Are you there now? We asked. He said he was right then, but after he hangs up somebody may call requesting his services and off he would go.
We tried a calling a few more local locksmiths and never got a good address or answer.
HOWEVER!! Today we did. While in Marietta I went to a hardware store that I grew up with one of their clerks, I thought he might know. He wasn't there but I asked another clerk. The clerk and a customer both knew of one just about three or four blocks away. They kept interrupting each other telling of landmarks and street names and store names next door. Thank you I said.
We went there, a hop, skip, and a jump away.
It was a busy little locksmith store. Three or four customers were there or came and go during our stay. It was named something Brothers. One of the brothers picked out the right key and said that would be $12.50 please.
We gladly paid him.
Then, we couldn't wait any longer to open it to see what was inside.
Anna slid the key into the slot, moved the lever and WALA! It opened!
And it was empty.
We all, including the locksmith, had a good laugh.
Sunday, July 05, 2015
Clara Howell and Monty Calhoun having a discussion at a GOBAG meeting. Mrs. Howell probably told Monty he is a good cook and Monty probably told Mrs. Howell she was a good teacher. Or maybe one asked the other one "Do you want to see me wiggle my ears and pat my stomach at the same time?"
Sunday Funnies!! Washington!
This post is about George Washington and the Revolutionary War. It is from the pages of one of the two EC Publishing War Comics. It was written by editor Harvey Kurtzman and illustrated by John Severin and Will Elder.
Happy 4th Weekend!
Saturday, July 04, 2015
Be Careful With Fireworks!
Today Willow and I went on our walk in mid-afternoon.
On our walk our neighbor down the street was trying to shoot a firework - in broad daylight?
Just before we got even with him he tossed something giving out green smoke. I was worried for Willow it would do its thing just as we walked by but something went wrong, it just smoked. After we walked by the neighbor approached it to see what the problem was, after wishing us a Happy 4th. We likewised to him.
Shooting off a dud firework reminded me of an incident years ago, probably when I was about 10 or 11 years old.
We lived on Manget Street. In the old ex-chicken coop I had hidden a Roman Candle. I was waiting to a day everybody was gone to shoot it. My father was the Chief of the Marietta Police and it was against the law to shoot fireworks in Georgia. I think he would have taken a dim view.
When the day came that I was along I went out in the yard with Roman Candle I was hiding and lit it. It just smoked, fizzled and quit. I went over to it to see if I could light it again.
I picked it up on the end the same time the Candle got it second wind and shot out a fierce powerful flame right into the palm of my hand.
I thought I would die in pain.
I was still more worried about being caught shooting fireworks than the pain itself. The evidence was the palm of my hand; If my Daddy noticed my hand and me writing in pain I would have been caught "red handed". Yuk yuk... get it?
The only thing I knew to do was go to the Strand Theater's matinee show, buy a large cup of ice, put water in it, then keep my hand in it the icy cup.
I sat through the movie one and half times, crying part of the time in pain. The girl behind the concession counter felt sorry for me and told me she heard Coke would help it, so she used my cup and put more ice and then Coco Cola.
I think it worked. The pain lessened and I kept my blistered hand of my parents view for a couple of days.
HAPPY INDEPENDENCE DAY!
Friday, July 03, 2015
Going through pictures of yesteryear I came across this one. I am talking to Darlene at Anna's retirement party. Darlene and Anna were co-workers. Back BK (before kids) Darlene and I carpooled together in the evenings going to Kennesaw Junior College.
In the picture I am saying something to her and she his smiling. I probably reminded her of the time she and I played hooky and instead went to her apartment complex's beer party and an ex-nun out drank us both.
Thursday, July 02, 2015
Peachtree Road Race T-Shirts, Mine!
I ran the Peachtree Road Race 1984 thru 1987. Four years. To people in my category it was not a "Race" per se, it was just a lot of people having a good time. I had my number for the 1988 Race but my brother-in-law Tommy Prance drowned two days before I did not run. We were mourning. I never ran the Peachtree again,. I have a short attention span. It was time to move on.
Today we were cleaning out our own basement and throwing out things without mercy. If we haven't used or worn anything in years, we packed it for the Goodwill. I carried two truckloads of stuff to Goodwill today.
While we were cleaning out in the bottom of a wardrobe was all my Peachtree T-shirts. By the rules we were giving stuff to the Goodwill I should have given them my Peachtree Road Race Shirts. I couldn't do it.
I earned each of them, well, "earned" may not be the right word, maybe "sweated" would be the right word. I sweated for each of those t-shirts. It is like somebody buying a Pulitzer Award Statue and claiming they earned it.
By the way, these t-shirts were photographed on our regulation size slated pool table. It can be yours for the asking.
Tuesday, June 30, 2015
On THE TODAY SHOW this morning they announced that tonight, the last minute of June will have one additional second. They went on to say that each day the real time is shorted by a fraction of a second and ever so often when enough fractions add up to be a whole, they tack an extra second on the end of the month to make everything, time-wise to work out.
It is like a time warp, or time traveling.
Then I wondered if actually rearranging seconds might after a terrible effect on the human race I got my Ouija Board out and called up a conference séance with Albert Einstein and Sir Isaac Newton. I told them the problem of humans monkeying with real time and would there be any bad consequences.
They both chuckled and called me a few names that was in a foreign language and laughed again, harder.
I didn't wan to look stupid so I laughed too, and that caused them to laugh so hard they started coughing.
They gave me this advice: At the final bonus second at the end of June jump up in the air. Being in midair you will escape the time consequence. When you land you will land in the first second of July, so you will not be effective.
Monday, June 29, 2015
click to enlarge
Downtown Marietta mid 1950s, at the prime of my formative years.
This is my comfort picture. When I want to relax from an uptight day to be able to sleep I look at this picture and each little square inch brings back adolescent memories..... and I get sleepy.... not bored, but content.