Author: William Douthwaite

Posted in Dad

Hamburger Helper

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Daily writing prompt
Which food, when you eat it, instantly transports you to childhood?
View all responses

I can’t remember the last I ate it, but Hamburger Helper transports me to my childhood.

General Mills introduced Hamburger Helper in 1971, and our family was immediately on board. I was in middle school that year, and my younger sister and brother were both in elementary school. We were all old enough for my mom, a nurse, to go back to work on weekends. That meant Dad was in charge of making supper.

It’s not that Dad was a bad cook. He just had a limited repertoire.

  • Beef Noodle Hamburger Helper
  • Potato Stroganoff Hamburger Helper
  • Cheeseburger Macaroni Hamburger Helper
  • Hash Hamburger Helper
  • Chili Tomato Hamburger Helper
  • Rice Oriental Hamburger Helper

From time to time, there was no Hamburger Helper in the pantry. No problem. Dad browned hamburger, mixed it with brown gravy made from a packet of gravy mix, and serve it over reconstituted freeze-dried mashed potatoes.

Plus, it was cheap. The original price of a box of Hamburger Helper was 65 cents. A pound of hamburger was about the same. Feed the family for $1.30? Nice.

We did try Tuna Helper. It was the same concept, substituting a can of tuna for the pound of hamburger. We only tried it once.

Not only is Hamburger Helper the food that instantly transports me to my childhood, but it is the top memory I have of my Dad.

“Hamburger Helper helps her hamburger help her make a great meal!”

Posted in color

That’s a lot of crayons!

Posted on by William Douthwaite

As I wandered through Staples the other day, a box of crayons caught my eye. It was a box of ninety-six Crayola crayons! Ninety-six? Are you kidding? I thought the ultimate was a box of 64. The small print reads, “96 Different Colors.” Nice.

But wait. There’s more. I turned the corner and saw another display with a box of one hundred and twenty crayons! “120 Different Colors”! Wow. That’s almost double what I thought was the ultimate box of crayons.

But wait. There’s more. I saw

  • A box of 24 Metallic Crayons
  • A box of 24 Pearl Crayons
  • A box of 24 Glitter Crayons
  • A box of 24 “Colors of Kindness”
  • A box of 24 “Colors of the World”
  • A box of 24 “Ultra-clean Washable Crayons”
  • A box of 8 Neon Crayons
  • A box of 24 Bold and Bright Construction Paper Crayons

I almost had to sit down. I don’t even know what some of these are. But I want to find out. I want to buy a box of each. I think I need about $50 for the whole set. I just want to see what all these different colors are called and what they look like on paper.

So I Googled “Crayola Crayons.” There are more!

  • Confetti Crayons
  • Pastel Crayons
  • An Ultimate 152 Crayon Collection
  • BJ’s Wholesale Club sells a bucket of 200 crayons!
  • Cosmic Crayons
  • Swirl Crayons
  • Mythical Creatures Crayons
  • Uni-Crayons

I may have a new hobby here: collecting Crayola crayons.

Posted in shopping

From the other side of the planet to me

Posted on by William Douthwaite

It didn’t take much to shape my Instagram algorithm. I think I clicked on one t-shirt promotion, and all of a sudden, such ads filled my feed. I was in the market for a few shirts, so I did the discount code dance. Every ad I went to offered me 15% off my first purchase. So I did a whole lot of first purchases and tried out a whole lot of t-shirts.

Most of my orders came in three to four days. I liked all my purchases. But then I thought, “Didn’t I order another one?” I went back through my emails and checked my order confirmations. Yep, one more yet to come.

It’s been two weeks. Where is that last shirt? I found the tracking order for my t-shirt, and discovered that the shipment originated in China. I know, most of my clothes are made in China, Vietnam or Indonesia. No surprise there.

I was fascinated to read about my t-shirt’s travels, which started in Shatian, China. From there, it went to O’Hare airport in Chicago, then to Homer Glen, Illinois. The bagged t-shirt went to Atlanta, Orlando, and then finally to my town, Palm Coast. It took two weeks for the shirt to get from them to me.

I find this very interesting. I paid less than $25 for the shirt. Did it cost less than that to ship it to me? Did they lose money on the deal? Will they make money if I order more shirts from them?

I do not understand the economics of this at all. Someone is making a shirt for me at a bargain price in a sweatshop somewhere on the other side of the earth, so they can feed their family and I can save a few bucks. Some middle-men are making money making the sale and shipping it to me. I feel bad for taking advantage of them. I guess I could feel better for giving them a job. But I feel nothing when I pull on a shirt made on the other side of the planet.

We live in a strange world, don’t we?

Posted in Life

Uh-oh. Now you’re in big trouble

Posted on by William Douthwaite

As I sat beneath this welcoming sign outside of Starbucks, I wondered, “How do they enforce these rules?”

If someone from a youth group stopped by and asked for a gift card donation for their summer mission trip fund raiser, would the barista reach under the counter and push the silent alarm button? Do you think the police have a ten code for that?

What do you think counts as “loitering”? A lot of people hang out at Starbucks for a long time, making phone calls, studying for a test, and interviewing for jobs. They use a coffee shop as their office. I suppose you need to buy something if you’re going to spend time there.

The recent remodeling of our neighborhood Starbucks eliminated a lot of seating, making it harder to camp out there.

All of these people were here for a long time. So was I as I watched them. Check out the guy on his second sugary venti drink.

What about trespassing? I guess that would be sitting at the tables after hours. I guess you wouldn’t want someone spending the night under a table out front or out back by the dumpsters.

Signs like this are only hung up when there’s been a problem with people soliciting, loitering, or trespassing. It’s too bad, since the proliferation of signs announcing what you can’t do detracts from really nice parks and buildings. In most places, it seems like you can’t do anything!

Posted in annoying people, Life

“Come on, hit me!”

Posted on by William Douthwaite
This isn’t actually her. But you get the idea.

I got to see a Karen in the wild today. She came out of Starbucks with both fingers blazing and a mouth ready to take a bite out of an SUV that was in her way.

Starbucks was crowded inside, so I had to sit outside at a table. The cloud cover made my shady table spot a pretty nice place to enjoy some ice coffee and do some writing. This particular Starbucks is on a busy corner of a shopping center where you’ll hear lots of horn honking on any given day.

A teenage granddaughter carrying a whipped cream topped cold drink came out trying to put some distance between her and grandma. I didn’t think much of it until I saw the older woman standing in front of an oncoming vehicle, yelling, “What are you going to do? Hit me? Go ahead! Hit me! Come on, hit me!” She raised both of her hands and fingers high, demanding the right of way. The SUV rolled to a stop and the surprised driver just sat there watching the show. Grandma finally stomped across the street to her parked car, and traffic started moving again.

I saw the SUV signal to turn in, so I kept watching to see if the situation would escalate. Would the driver get out and confront her? Box her in so she couldn’t get out of the parking lot? Lean on the horn? I secretly hoped so, but nothing happened. Maybe next time.

Next time came really quickly. A vey nice orange Mustang was slowly rolling into the Starbucks parking lot. The driver made sure we could hear the well-tuned exhaust. He was rolling too slowly for the guy behind him, who leaned on his horn. I chuckled as the Mustang slowed down even more, revved his engine a few more times, and stuck his finger up through the open sun roof.

It’s so entertaining to watch all of this. And it’s all over an overpriced cup of coffee. I hope they all ordered decaf. Everyone needed take it down a notch.

Posted in Life, neighbor, neighborhood

“Is he wearing two different colored socks?”

Posted on by William Douthwaite

If you’ve ever read my writing, you know I love to take a photo and wonder, “What in the world is going on here?” This is one of those moments.

The big dog and I were half way through our early morning walk when we came across this gentleman watering his gardens. He just moved into this just build house. He immediately tore out the builder’s stock landscaping plants and must planted something new, otherwise he’s just watering the mulch.

But the thing that really caught my eye was his socks. I asked the big dog, “Is he wearing two different color socks?” Intentional? Accidental? I don’t know.

  • I know that you’ve all got orphan socks at home. Dryers consume them so that we are left with drawers full of single socks with no partners. After a while, you just pull out two, knowing that you’ve got no matches.
  • It could be a special sock for a special foot condition. Perhaps a clean, white sock (or a black one) is better for whatever toe ailment he is nursing.
  • If you wake up before sunrise and don’t want to disturb other sleepers, you might pull out a mismatched pair in the dark. But most mismatched pairs would be blue-black, or colors not too different from one another. The contrast here would be difficult to miss, even in the darkest room.
  • Maybe his partner is wearing the exact same pair, and he had no others to choose from.
  • Some of my grandsons wear mismatched socks on purpose. They find certain color combinations appealing, especially when dressing in uniform for a sport.

I should have stopped and asked. Maybe he didn’t know. Maybe he doesn’t care. I know, maybe it’s none of my business.

But it’s fun to speculate.

Besides, black and white works, right? It works for cookies, zebras, newspapers, and photographic effects.

Posted in Food

Review: JoJo’s Country Cafe in Deland, FL

Posted on by William Douthwaite

The cool, breezy morning had given way to a hot summer day by the time our grandson’s baseball game was over last Saturday. We didn’t mind the early drive to the field, but now we were hungry. A quick search of nearby restaurants on a maps app guided us around the corner to JoJo’s Country Cafe in Deltona.

As we pulled into the strip mall parking lot, we saw JoJo’s, along with the usual tattoo place, barber shop, 24 hour coin laundry, and other assorted businesses. Tucked away between some hotels and a housing addition, the strip mall had been there a while. Our initial reaction: “Sketchy.” But it got decent reviews, so why not give it a try?

JoJo’s is a typical breakfast and lunch place. The coffee was hot and strong, but only tasted average. My wife and I split “JoJo’s Platter”, which included eggs, bacon, sausage, ham, hash browns, and toast. We added a pancake, too. The good was good. As I told her, “It’s hard to get breakfast wrong.”

I thought the decor was interesting. There was no rhyme or reason to the stuff hanging on the walls. There were some old photographs, a US Flag, a bible verse, some old signs, and a framed flower. A few old Uline catalogs were scattered around. I guess people like to page through those. (Actually, we did that, looking at some boxes and shipping materials.) None of the coffee mugs matched. In fact, ours advertised banks in Texas. I’ll bet they purchased these at a thrift store.

It was 10:30 on a Saturday morning, and we were the only customers there. The restaurant must be crowded on weekdays or earlier in the morning. Only one other couple wandered in for some lunch.

On a shelf behind the counter, my wife noticed large boxes of cereal. Nothing appeared on the menu, but we could have asked for a bowl of Cheerios or Raisin Bran. Neither of us have seen cereal offered at a restaurant for a while.

Overall, JoJo’s wasn’t a bad place for breakfast. The average reviewer gave it four out of five stars. That sounds about right. I doubt we’ll ever be in this neighborhood again, so I’m glad we stopped in.

Posted in running, seasons

It has to be summer

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Herbert Goetsch on Unsplash
Daily writing prompt
What is your favorite season of year? Why?
View all responses

When I used to run a lot, it felt so good to simply pull on shorts, socks, and shoes and hit the road on a summer day. Within half a mile, I had my rhythm, a little sweat covered my body, and my muscles felt nice and loose.

In the summer, you don’t have to worry about hats, gloves, or layers of clothing. The days are long, so it’s light out for an early morning run. I can feel the slightest breeze on all my exposed skin. I chuckle as random passersby comment, “It’s too hot to run!”

I really like summer. I like the heat and the humidity. Even though I use lots of sunblock now, I love to feel the sun’s heat on my skin. I love the feeling of sweat cooling my body. I appreciate the longer hours of daylight, love the early sunrise, and look forward to a late sunset.

Summer meant no school. Although, I kind of enjoyed school. Summer meant baseball, and a job at a major league stadium. Summer meant cutting the lawn weekly, a pleasant chore for me. Summer meant tomatoes and sweet corn from south Jersey, the Mr. Softie ice cream truck, Monday night 5K races at Lake Takanassee (NJ), my July birthday, and Vacation Bible School.

Now, summer means hurricane season in Florida. Summer means sporadic, hard-to-predict thundershowers. Summer is the season between the spring and fall gardening seasons in Florida. Summer means “I hope you had your AC serviced recently.” Summer means wear a hat, bring sunblock, and rent a cabin in North Carolina for a few weeks,

Summer is my favorite season of the year. Just about everyone else I know thinks I’m a little unbalanced to think so. You may be right. I might be crazy.

Posted in Life

Don’t take yourself too seriously

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Irene Strong on Unsplash
Daily writing prompt
If humans had taglines, what would yours be?
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My tagline would be “Don’t take yourself too seriously.” It’s been my mantra for a while. One could paraphrase that as “Lighten up,” “It’s not about you,” or “Just relax.”

My tagline helped me keep perspective during my career in full-time pastoral ministry. The church was there before me and it’ll be there when I’m gone. Don’t take yourself too seriously.

Believe it or not, there are a lot of unhappy people who go to church. I would wonder, “Was it something I said or didn’t say?” Or, “Was it something I did or didn’t do?” Most of the time it wasn’t even about me. Don’t take yourself too seriously.

Knowing how fragile memory is, I knew that within months of my retirement, some would mention, “The pastor who was here before…what was his name?” I know that because they forgot my predecessor’s name a few months after I started preaching. So, don’t take yourself too seriously.

On one occasion, I was at the church and dressed in a black clerical shirt. Someone walked in and asked me, “Are you the pastor?” I chuckled then and I’m chuckling now. Don’t take yourself too seriously.

Much of the time, people aren’t really paying attention. They aren’t listening to you. They’re thinking about themselves. They tell you what they think you want to hear.

In response to all of that, I try to pay attention to what’s going on around me. I work hard to listen. I try to express myself in a sincere, positive way.

And I don’t take myself too seriously.