Author: William Douthwaite

Posted in treasure

Free money: a few cents here and there

Posted on by William Douthwaite

I pick up every coin I find.

I most often find pennies or dimes when I’m walking the dogs around the neighborhood or in store parking lots. While they check out the subtlest of smells along the ground, a reflection or a circular shape catches my eye. It’s not always a coin. Sometimes it’s a washer, a bottle cap, or some other piece of trash. But other times it is free money, waiting for me on the road.

I mostly find pennies and dimes. I know, these don’t amount to much. But for some reason, I love coming home from a walk just a little bit wealthier. Or, at least having found a treasure, no matter now small. Surveys report that over half of all Americans are like me, and will stop to pick up a penny on the ground.

Bus stops and house construction sites are likely places to spot a coin. Coins fall from the pockets of contractors who have been to convenience store for the day’s water and lunch. A few cents fall from the car as parents drop off children for school. Enough people still shop with cash to leave change behind in a store parking lot when they pull their car keys out of a purse or pocket.

If I were to add up everything I’ve found, it would only total a few bucks. But it’s still satisfying to find something of value, even if so very small.

Posted in Stories

Dear supersized rubber duckie: you’ve got my attention

Posted on by William Douthwaite

So I’m driving down US 1 on my way home from St. Augustine, when I see this monster inflatable. I could’t help but grab a quick picture on my way back. I’m not looking for a hot tub and really don’t have anywhere to put one, but I really wanted to stop here just because of the rubber duck.

You can send me direct mail. I’ll take it right from the mailbox to the recycling bin. You can send me an email. It’ll go right to my spam. You can try to call or message me. I won’t answer your call. I’ll scroll right by your ad on social media. You can come knock on my door. I won’t even open the door to say, “No, thank you.”

But put a huge inflatable yellow rubber duck alongside of the road, and suddenly I’m interested. You’ve got my attention. I had to take a picture. And when I’m interested in getting a hot tub, you’ll probably be the first place I think of.

There is a marketing lesson in here somewhere. The visual, the outrageous, and the humorous makes for effective advertising. This world is way to serious. Give me a reason to smile, and I’ll little to your pitch. Fill up my mailbox, my newsfeed, or my inbox, and you’re nothing more than spam to me.

Give me something that makes me laugh. Or makes me say, “Whoa.” Or causes me to reach for my camera to get a picture. That’s how you get my attention.

Posted in coffee

A surprisingly good cup of coffee

Posted on by William Douthwaite

The service adviser said, “It’s going to be about three to four hours.” The look on my face must have prompted her to add, “Yeah, they have to take the whole dashboard off to get to the wiring.”

I had expected to wait a couple of hours for the recall service to be done on my van. Double that? Good thing I brought something to do. And since it was early, maybe the coffee would be good.

Typically, I’d find a few pump thermoses in the beverage area. That’s fine, as long as the coffee is hot and fresh. A few hours from now it would be old and lukewarm. Once in a while, the dealership will install a Keurig coffee maker. Unfortunately, they’ll also buy the cheapest pods they can find, resulting in so-so brew.

But today I saw a coffee machine I’ve never seen before. It’s a Selectbrew coffee system, featuring Folgers coffee. Not a brand I reach for, but today I’ll give it a shot. I placed my cup, pushed the “dark roast bold” (of course) and within five seconds I had a strong, freshly brewed cup of coffee. It smelled and tasted wonderful. Later on, I tried the decaf variety, and it was just as tasty.

I know, I should probably be more concerned about the service and costs of car repair. But we’ve been coming to this dealership for decades and they’ve always done a great job at a reasonable price. I’ve had better coffee at coffee shops. But they didn’t have a clue about how to fix my car. Lol.

Posted in Life

Keepin’ ‘em shiny

Posted on by William Douthwaite

I arrived at the Honda dealer just as the service advisors were logging into their computers. After they took my van back to start working on a recall repair, I got a very nice, strong cup of coffee and found a high top table to sit at next to the sales area.

The salespeople don’t get in until about nine, so it was pretty quiet. As I sat, jotting down story ideas, a gentleman wandered through with a spray bottle and two microfiber cloths. He said, “‘Mornin’” as he did a quick detail on the vehicles on the showroom floor.

I said, “Good morning.” Then I added, “you wouldn’t think they’d get very dusty overnight.”

“You’d be surprised.”

It was a Monday morning, so he was probably wiping away a whole weekend’s worth of fingerprints, smudges, and dirt.

I wonder how many people touch the cars each day? Probably plenty. For some reason, fingers are drawn to smooth, shiny surfaces. They are a pleasure to touch. But it’s hard to keep them that way.

Some spend a lot of time and big bucks on car detailing to preserve that brand new look. Of course, it’s gone just a few miles down the road. Other cars look like they’ve never been washed.

Somewhere in between is probably the best I can do.

Posted in Grace

Seeing grace in new ways

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Tima Miroshnichenko at pexels.com

My friend J was sitting on a bench outside of church this morning. I had a few minutes between the middle school Sunday School class I taught and the worship service. I sat next to him and said, “Hey, J, it’s Bill. How are you doing?”

J is blind. He replied, “Well, to be honest, I’ve had better weeks. I’ve been struggling with anger issues again.”

“It’s not easy dealing with anger.”

He went on, ” I’m mostly angry about things that have been taken from me.”

“What do you mean?”

“For example, at the complex where I live. They’ve changed the way you get into the laundry area. They installed an electronic touch pad. I can’t operate that.”

I said, “They must have had the push buttons with raised bumps on them before.”

“Yeah. And they changed how you use the machines. You can’t put quarters in anymore. You have to swipe a credit card. And then there’s another touch pad to tell it what to do. I can’t use that.”

I don’t blame him for being angry. I think J is in his forties, and he has never been able to see. He lives on his own and church members pick him up every week so he can attend worship and an evening bible class. He supports himself working at a pizza place across from the beach. About a year ago J shared how his apartment complex moved the trash dumpsters without letting him know. That was frustrating, too.

I rarely think about the obstacles a blind person deals with every day. Eyes are critical in a world filled with smart phones, laptops, cars, and video games. I should be grateful for all my senses.

J is one of several blind people who come to worship each week. He has been a part of the church’s outreach to a nearby training institute for the blind. I don’t think the church ever pursued that ministry, but we know God opened up that door anyway.

I’m thankful for J and how he helps me see God’s grace in new ways.

Posted in driving

Keep your distance

Posted on by William Douthwaite

If you look carefully, you’ll see that the light is red. There are two cars stopped ahead of me. And then there is this car just to my right, twenty-five feet from the intersection. As we wait, she doesn’t inch forward until the light turns to green. “Uh-oh,” I think to myself. I’ll bet she’s going to try to merge in my lane when we start moving.

But she doesn’t. I leave room, but she makes no move. I watch carefully, but she keeps going straight, even after I turn left at another light about a thousand feet ahead.

So, as I often do, I wonder, “What is going on here?”

  • Maybe she’s a super cautious driver. She wants to keep a safe distance from the intersection in case someone is crossing the street. Don’t you hate it when you have to walk around a car sticking it’s nose into the crosswalk?
  • She doesn’t want to tailgate. We all hate tailgaters, don’t we? Oh, wait, there’s no one ahead of her.
  • The obvious: she’s on the phone. Maybe she’s been on the phone, and still doesn’t notice that the people ahead of her drove away when the light turned green. Oblivious, she’s waiting through another cycle.
  • Did her car stall out? She could have been calling AAA at that moment. Cars break down in the worst possible situations, right?
  • Maybe she knows the people in the SUV ahead of me and was talking to them. The light is red, so she can’t go anywhere anyway.
  • She could be hallucinating. Maybe she sees two cars in front of her that no one else can see. Hmm.
  • Invisible cars ahead of her? The car’s automatic braking sensors knows there there. Stopped that car on a dime.
  • I’ve eaten in the car before. I remember driving a stick shift on the Garden State Parkway in New Jersey, tossing a token for the toll, and eating a cup of blueberry yogurt on my way to a class a Rutgers. Maybe she doesn’t multitask well, and a snack distracted her.
  • Was she lost? Was she trying to get Google Maps to give her directions?
  • One more. It’s an malfunctioning autonomous car. There ‘s a bug in the software, so there she sits.

I never know what I’m going to see on the road.

Posted in Food

One ranch to rule them all

Posted on by William Douthwaite

Ranch dressing was on my shopping list last week. My wife and I don’t eat a whole lot of it, but the grandchildren sure do. They don’t eat a lot of salad, but they love to put it on other things. Like pizza. I find this puzzling, but one grandson first sprinkles parmesan cheese on his slice, followed by red peppers, and then a healthy squirt of ranch dressing. A granddaughter loves to eat rice smothered in ranch dressing. Some dip a burger or grilled cheese into a puddle of ranch on their plate. Not to mention pretzels and chips. Before you know it, we need to buy more.

I never noticed it before, but Walmart and other stores have shelves and shelves filled with all makes and models of ranch dressing. I had my choice of the original Hidden Valley Farms, Ken’s, Kraft, Great Value generic, Marie’s, Newman’s Own, and a bunch more. I could choose lite, vegan, fat free, organic, or plant powered. Bonus flavors include cheesy, jalapeno, parmesan, pickle, and garlic. Next, what size do I want? They have them all from tiny dipping cups to squeeze bottles to restaurant sized jugs. I can take home a packet of spices and mix it up myself. Or sprinkle ranch seasoning on anything and everything.

I remember when ranch dressing became popular in the seventies. In 1992 it surpassed Italian as the most popular salad dressing in America. Now it occupies about half of the salad dressing section of the grocery store.

I’ll reach for it once in a while, but I’m not a huge fan of creamy dressings. I most often choose a balsamic vinegar or mix up my own Good Seasons Italian copycat recipe.

Posted in geocache

My first geocache

Posted on by William Douthwaite

I’ve heard of geocaching but never thought much about it until Rob Walker mentioned it in The Art of Noticing. Wikipedia’s description says “Participants use a Global Positioning System receiver or mobile device and other navigational techniques to hide and seek containers, called geocaches or caches, at specific locations marked by coordinates all over the world.” The first cache was placed in 2000.

I never thought there would be a cache in my part of the world. But you never know. So I got the free app and learned that there are some caches near my home. Now I’m curious. I’ve got to try this some day.

Today was the day. I was out running errands and decided I would seek out my first cache. According to the little map on the app, it was right outside the library. I pulled into a parking spot and saw that I was seventy-five feet from the geocache.

There is no description of what it looks like. That’s part of the fun. You have to search for it. I walked under a tree at the northeast corner of the library and my phone buzzed. I was at the location.

Was it hanging from a tree? Sticking out of the ground? Was it in an official looking container? I had no idea.

Something red caught my eye. A plastic Folgers coffee container. Probably just some trash. Except on the side someone had written in marker, “This is not trash.” Ah-ha. I’ll bet that’s it. On the other side it said, “This is a geocache.” Found it. I was expecting something official looking. But I guess any container works.

Inside was a ziplock bag containing a small booklet and a pen to record when you found it. I added my user name and the date to the list of those who had found it before me, and put it back in the container. There were also some blue and purple Mardi Gras beads inside. Apparently, some like to leave a little trinket. Next time I’ll bring one of my cool painted rocks.

And that’s it. My first geocache. According to the app map, there are about ten more in town. This one wasn’t too tough. I’ll bet others are more challenging.

Posted in dogs

No, you’re not getting a ride

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Japheth Revelo on Unsplash

We take our dogs for a lot of walks, typically once in the morning and then again in the evening. Rather than letting them wrestle on the sofa, we’re willing to put in the miles so that the Great Dane and the Westie can burn off some energy.

Yesterday we passed a woman and her chihuahua we’ve seen many times. This time, though, she was carrying the dog. He couldn’t have weighed more than three pounds, so she could manage. I’m sure there are good reasons why you would carry rather than walk your dog. Like hip problems or hot asphalt. After she turned the corner, our big dog’s eyes seemed to say, “How come you never carry me?”

I knew what she was thinking and said, “Forget it. You weigh sixty pounds and you’re only five months old!”

Another person we often see on our walks pushed her small dog in a stroller. The look on his face said, “Suckers!” Once again, I got a glance from the Great Dane.

“Forget it. Even if they did make a stroller that big, I’m not sure I could push you very far.”

Towards the end of a walk, we came up on a woman pushing a fussy toddler in a stroller. Once the little girl caught a glimpse of our dogs, she stopped screaming and pointed. However as we got closer her eyes got bigger when she saw just how big the doggie was. I told my wife, it’s just a matter of time before the question, “Can we pet your dog?” become, “Can we ride your dog?”

And then, on our way to walking out and back over a bridge, we wondered, “Do you think they make car seats big enough for a Great Dane?” We’ve seen some nice ones that keep smaller dogs from scrambling from the back seat to the front.

I said, “I don’t think they make a big enough car!” Good thing the van has a sun roof. And it’s good to be in Florida where it’s easy to get out walking year round.