Campy Camper

th3EKZ50VW bus 2

See this great old school bus.  It is so much nicer than the one Daddy acquired for the unbelievable sum of fifty dollars. He purchased it from his brother-in-law, who’d gotten stuck with it as payment body work.  Daddy was ahead of his time In acquiring this Tiny House.  Mother was furious.  Fifty dollars would have bought more than two week’s supply of groceries.  Though he gave Mother no end of grief about her extravagant spending at the grocery store, he wasn’t short-sighted and saw the great potential in this bus-camper.  It would be a wonderful shelter when he and his buddies went deer hunting, and oh yes, the family could use it for camping, too!  Now our camper wasn’t nearly so nice as the one pictured above.  It had been partially hand-painted bright silver and lacked a motor. The good news was, we could finish it up any color we liked and motors take up a lot of unnecessary space better used for storage.  In that special storage area, items were stored in boxes on one deep shelf or in  boxes on the floor beneath the shelf.  While the rest of us were out fishing, swimming, or just running wild in general, Mother drug boxes out and dug through them for dishes, pots and pans, and food, all this with two babies in diapers.  She complained about her back constantly.  What a whiner! .

nice inside

See how comfortable and well-appointed the camper pictured above is.  Ours was nothing like this.  There was no refrigerator, lighting, water, bathroom, hard-wood floors, or Benjamin Franklin wood burning stove.  There was, however, an ancient gas range Daddy hooked to a propane bottle.  It had two functioning burners and a defunct oven.  That was okay, since Mother insisted it had a propane leak and she was scared to use it longer than it took to heat a can of beans or cook eggs.  She cooked with all the windows open and made Daddy cut the fuel off every time she got through.  In fact, it did have a propane leak in the line, but that’s a story for another day. Two full-size bunk beds filled the rear of the camper.  Two sets of old army bunks were stacked along either side.  Of course, we fought over the top bunks.  The lower bunks served as seating.  A lantern and flash lights served when light was needed. It was perfect.  I remember one wonderful camping trip when Daddy pulled it to a creek bank.  We swam, fished, swatted mosquitoes, cooked outdoors, only going in to sleep, so exhausted we hardly moved till morning.  Mother got up several times every night to spray to camper with bug killer and spray the covers and any exposed skin with mosquito repellent.  We scratched bug bites and poison ivy for days after we got home. That was our only family camping trip.  Daddy used it a time or two for hunting, then gave it up as too much trouble.  It had a couple of other incarnations as a home for a farm laborer who confirmed the stove fuel line leak before it descended so far down the social scale it ended life as a junk shed on Daddy’s farm. To me, that camper was worth every cent!

Liar! Liar!

A jogger running down a country road is startled as a horse yells at him “Hey-come over hear buddy”. The jogger is stunned but runs over to the fence where the horse is standing and asks”Were you talking to me”? The horse replies”Sure was, man I’ve got a problem. I won the Kentucky Derby a few years ago and this farmer bought me and now all I do is pull a plow and I’m sick of it. Why don’t you run up to the house and offer him $5,000 to buy me. I’ll make you some money cause I can still run.” The jogger thought to himself,”boy a talking horse” Dollar signs started appearing in his head. So he runs to the house and the old farmer is sitting on the porch. The jogger tells the farmer”Hey man I’ll give you $5,000 for that old broken down nag you’ve got in the field”. The farmer replies”Son you can’t believe anything that horse says-He’s never even been to Kentucky.

And that’s when the fight started…….

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I took my lovely wife to a nice restaurant.

The waitertook my order first.

“I’ll have the strip steak, rare, please.”

He said, “Aren’t you worried about the mad cow?”

“She can order for herself.”

And that’s when the fight started…..

_____________________________

My sweet wife and I were at a table at her high school

reunion, and she kept staring at a drunken man swigging his

drink as he sat alone nearby.

I asked her, “Do you know him?”

“Yes”, she sighed,

“He’s an old boyfriend. I understand he took to drinking

right after we split up and

hasn’t been sober since.”

“My God!” I said, “Who would think a person could go on

celebrating that long?”

And then the fight started…

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When our lawn mower broke, my wife kept telling me that I should get it fixed.

But, somehow I always had something else to take care of first, the shed, the boat,

making beer.. Always something more important.

Finally she thought of a snotty way to make her point.

When I arrived home one day, I found her seated in the tall grass, busily snipping away with a tiny pair of sewing

I handed her a toothbrush.

scissors. I watched quietly and then went into

the house. I was gone only a minute, and when I came out again

I said, “When you finish cutting the

grass, you might as well sweep the driveway.”

The doctors say I will walk again, but I will always have a limp.

_____________________________

My wife sat down next to me as I was flipping channels.

She asked, “What’s on TV?”

I said, “Dust.”

And then the fight started…

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Saturday morning I got up early, quietly dressed, made my lunch, and slipped quietly into the garage. I hooked up the

boat up to the van and proceeded to back out into a terrible rain storm. The wind was blowing 50 mph, so I pulled back into the garage, turned on the radio, and discovered that the weather

would be bad all day.

I went back into the house, quietly undressed, and slipped back into bed. I cuddled up to my wife’s back;

now with a different anticipation,

and whispered, “The weather out there is terrible.”

My loving wife of 5 years replied, “And, can you believe my stupid husband is out fishing in that?”

And that’s how the fight started…

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My wife was hinting about what she wanted for our upcoming anniversary.

She said, “I want something shiny that goes from 0 to 150 in 3 seconds.”

I bought her a bathroom scale.

And then the fight started……

______________________________

After retiring, I went to the Social Security office to apply

for Social Security. The woman behind the counter asked me

for my driver’s License to verify my age. I looked in my pockets

and realized I had left my wallet at home. I told the woman that

I was very sorry, but I would have to go home and come back later.

The woman said, ‘Unbutton your shirt’.

So I opened my shirt revealing my curly silver hair.

She said, ‘That silver hair on your chest is proof enough for me’ and she processed my Social Security application.

When I got home, I excitedly told my wife about my experience at the Social Security office.

She said, ‘You should have dropped

your pants. You might have gotten disability too.’

And then the fight started…

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My wife was standing nude, looking in the bedroom mirror.

She was not happy with what she saw and said to me,

“I feel horrible; I look old, fat and ugly. I really need you

to pay me a compliment.’

I replied, “Your eyesight’s nearly perfect.”

And then the fight started……..

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I rear-ended a car this morning…the start of a REALLY bad start to the day!

The driver got out of the other car, and he was a DWARF!!

He looked up at me and said ‘I am NOT Happy!’

So I said, ‘Which one ARE you then?’

That’s how the fight started.

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One year, I decided to buy my mother-in-law a cemetery plot

as a Christmas gift…

The next year, I didn’t buy her a gift.

When she asked me why, I replied,

“Well, you still haven’t used the gift I bought you last year!”

And that’s how the fight started

A Soft Place to Fall

Dana and Bill lived across from us for years.  Their two kids, Betsey and Greg hung out at our house a lot.  Betsey was our daughter’s age and Greg about three years younger.  He hung out with the girls or me and Bud.  He was a witty, cute kid and we liked having them both around.  Dana, a psychiatric nurse, worked nights.  She was a card-carrying mean drunk.  Even if they were allowed indoors, they were only allowed to eat a pre-determined amount of food since she didn’t want them to get fat. She had locks on the cabinets and freezer. Of course, they were always hungry and ate with us. Much of the time, she locked the kids out so she could sleep. Bill, also an alcoholic, was totally whipped and didn’t protect the kids. 

One afternoon, Greg rushed over to the house.  “Don’t let my dad get me!  He’s gonna beat my ass!  Greg disappeared into the bathroom with his dad close on his heels.  Bill pounded on the back door and tried to push in past Bud with a belt doubled up in his fist, none too steady on his feet.  Had he thought ahead, he’d have realized that was a bad idea.  Bud had four inches of reach and forty pounds on him, but Bud stayed calm.

“I’m coming in for Greg.  Dana said I gotta whip him.  Him and the Bailey kid got in the beer.  His mama told him what was gonna happen if he got in the beer.”  Bill looked shamefaced, his heart not in his errand.

“Now hold on.  I can’t let you go in my house and beat a kid.  There are better ways to handle this.” Bud told him.  “Go back home and sober up.  Looks like y’all have both had plenty of beer.”

“Alright, I won’t come bustin’ in over you, but I’m gonna beat his ass when he gets home.” Bill offered.

“I’d think real hard about that.”  Bud told him.  “If you do that, you’ll have to deal with me.  Go on home.  Your boy can stay here till you’re sober and we’ll talk about it.”  Bill left, seeming somewhat relieved at not having to deal with anything he’d stirred up.

Bud called Greg out.  “Greg, you know you’re not old enough to drink.  I wouldn’t let you drink either.  You can stay here till I talk to your Dad and it’s safe to go home.”

The next day Bill came over and talked to the three of us, Greg, Bud, and me.  “Dana said  he can come home, but he’s going to Pine Hill.  (Adolescent Psychiatric Facility)  Get your stuff, boy.”

Bud asked Greg.  “Is that what you want to do?”

“No sir.  Can I stay here a few more days?” Greg asked.

“That’s between you and your dad.  What do you think, Bill?”

“I gotta talk to Dana.  She’s still pretty worked up.”  Bill answered.

Greg stayed, not causing a minute of trouble.  We weren’t foolish enough to think the problem was solved.  We just wanted him safe.  Four days later, Dana came to see Greg.  “Do you want to come home?  We miss you. You’ve been punished enough.”

“Am I still in trouble?  Dad ain’t gonna whip me is he?  I don’t  want to go to the hospital.” Greg looked worried.

“No. I promise.  Dad ain’t going to whip you and we aren’t to put you in the hospital.  Just stay out of the beer.” She told him.

He went home to an apparently peaceful house, for the moment.

Over the next couple of years the family dynamics changed, not by choice.  Dana got cancer and didn’t live long.   She was heavily medicated and continued to drink, so her involvement was less each day.  When she got too sick to work, they had to find a cheaper place to live. The children grew up and we lost touch, except for a time or two.  The last I heard, Greg was doing well enough to move out on his own.  Betsey was in and out of a couple of relationships, but eventually settled down, married,  and had a couple of kids.  The last I heard, she was going to nursing school.I hope for the best for these kids.

Shoots Her Husband For Stepping On The Clean Floor…

A police officer jumps into his squad car and calls the station.

“I have an interesting case here,” he says. “A woman shot her husband for stepping on the floor she just mopped.”

“Have you arrested her?” asks the sergeant.

“No, not yet. The floor’s still wet.”
– Rose Mattix, Decatur, Illinois

Annie’s Gift

Upon noticing the festive music, floral embellishments in the yard and the parade of guests, we surmised there was a wedding in the works across the street. We were vaguely friendly with the Becketts, but often went weeks without having a real conversation, so we weren’t surprised not to have heard of their plans, nor would we have expected an invitation. I alerted the kids to steer clear of the revelry making a point to walk our dalmatian, Annie, in the opposite direction, so as not to interfere with the Beckett’s plans. Annie caught a whiff of the tantalizing aromas wafting from the Beckett’s back patio and realized how desperately she needed to check the situation out.  She enjoyed a close relationship with their dog, Scotty, and realized she’d being meaning to check on him.  Like us, the Becketts had children who were likely to leave doors open, enhancing their dog’s social life.  Annie and Scotty had enjoyed many adventures together.  Consequently, the dogs felt very comfortable “dropping in” whenever the opportunity arose.  We knew Scotty far better than we did his owners. Annie had no doubt her invitation to the Beckett’s shindig had gotten lost in the mail.  She pulled on her leash, anxiously to join the fun.

I dragged her home.  With nose pressed to the living room windows and her eyes glued to the front door, she barked, whined, and cried her heartbreak at being kept from the party.  She would have scratched through the front door if allowed.  With so many guests, Scotty ran wild and free, making a trip or two through our yard, looking for Annie., keeping her desperation at a peak.

Finally, one of the kids left the door open.  Annie was out like a shot, making a beeline for the party.  She got there just in time to bound joyously around family and friends queued up to shower the bride and groom with congratulations as they emerged from their nuptials, the bride resplendent in her lace, the groom tall and handsome.  It was a lovely sight.  Annie was so overcome, she squatted in their path and presented her gift, a huge poop.  She’d been shut in too long to be denied.

THE GOAT

Two guys were hiking in the woods and decided to have lunch at one of the picnic grounds along trail. They discovered a big hole at the edge of the picnic area and wondered how deep it was. So they decided to drop in a pebble and listen for it to hit bottom. They dropped in a pebble and nothing happened. No noise. They dropped in a boulder and there was still no noise. They decided to scout around for something really big to drop in the hole and came across a railroad tie. They pushed and pulled it over to the hole and dropped it in. Still no noise.

Suddenly a goat ran out of the woods and jumped into the hole. 

As they were packing up their lunch, a farmer came by and asked if they had seen his goat. They said the only goat they had seen that day had been running in the woods and had come out and jumped into the hole.

The farmer said, ‘It couldn’t have been my goat. He was tied to a railroad tie!’

Nurse’s Lessons: Cultural Awareness and Patient Care in Nursing

One of the first things I had confirmed as a nurse was I didn’t know much. This was no surprise. In nursing school I had nightmares of being in left alone with no idea what to do. I was not disappointed. My first shift in charge, in the first room I went in, I found an unconscious, bloody patient on the floor. Rushing out, I braced myself against the door, forcing myself not to run. After a calming moment, I called out to an experienced nurse who knew just what to do. Totally unsettled, she took over. I was saved. Later, she even told me I did a good job. I am still grateful.

Not long after, I was getting a patient ready to go to surgery. I reached under her head to remove a tattered newspaper, assuming she had put it there in confusion. She grabbed my hand with a tight grip, whispering fiercely. “Leave it! That keeps the witches away!” I left it.

Her daughter arrived just as the surgical transport team rolled in. She was bidding her mother good luck as the team moved Mama to the stretcher. One of them reached for the ragged paper just as I had. The daughter shrieked. “Don’t touch it. It keeps the witches away!” She went to surgery with it. I was humbled to realize it held real meaning for them both. I knew nothing of their beliefs but learned they were valid.

It wasn’t long before I got another lesson. I was helping a colleague settle a restless patient after surgery. We changed her gown, whisked soiled bedding into a hamper, and tidied her up in general, thinking she’d be comforted. She became more agitated. Her daughter came in and was horrified. Where’s her prayer cloth? Did you lose Mama’s prayer cloth?” I could tell this was huge. We all got busy searching. The daughter found the prayer cloth on the floor. It was a six-by- six swatch of cotton fabric. It might have been torn from a sheet. I pinned the prayer cloth to her gown. Mama settled down. You can be sure I reported the importance of that prayer cloth to the oncoming shift. Who am I to know the source of comfort?

There all kinds of healing.

Dog’s Life

Our brave dog, Croc, has a hard life.  In this photo, he is anxiously awaiting  the mail carrier.  So far, he has a one hundred percent success rate in chasing him off. Please note the crocheted afghan he rests under.  Yes, I made it just for him.  Mornings are the best for him.  Protecting the house from the postal service is a great sacrifice since afterwards he has to sleep on top of his blanket unless someone happens by to cover him.

 

BEFORE

AFTER

 

The mail carrier has once again been vanquished, but as you can see, Though he has blankets, poor Croc is uncovered.  He has, however, acquired the baby’s favorite doll to comfort him.  He covets her snugglies, and given the opportunity, snitches them.  This fearsome beast is all that stands between us and the USPS.  Of course, he is not allowed on sofa.