Category: Life

Posted in Life, memories

The joy of pumpkins

Posted on by William Douthwaite

There wasn’t much the grands didn’t enjoy about the pumpkin farm yesterday. But they were super excited to pick out and purchase a pumpkin to bring home. While gourds of every size, shape, and color were available, their dad let them choose one from the $1 mini-pumpkin pile.

It’s harder to pick one out than you think. Each grandchild changed their mind several times as they sorted through the huge pile. When they made their final decision, only the youngest actually chose a traditional orange pumpkin, about three inches in diameter. The others found oddly shaped multi-colored gourds covered in “pimples.” Each promptly named their pumpkin. We brought home Ice Cream Cone, Sunshine Pimpleberry, and Little Pumpkin. On our way out of the farm, no one let go of their pumpkin, carefully taking it along for one last tractor ride and time on a big wooden swing. The ride home was filled with conversation about each pumpkin, its adventures, and future plans. Once we got home, the oldest carefully arranged them all to create a photo spot in the front yard.

Why are kids so excited about pumpkins? What makes them so fascinating? I suppose that the traditional Halloween sight of a jack-o-lantern gives them personality. So we display them proudly inside and outside our homes. For a few weeks, we treat them like a pet before they are forgotten in Thanksgiving and Christmas preparations.

My college fraternity boasted an annual pumpkin raid each fall. After a few beers, brothers and pledges would pile into cars and caravan out into the central Pennsylvania farm country. In complete darkness, we would stop by a patch to abscond with what we hoped would be decent looking pumpkins. Back at the house, after a few more beers, most of the fruit ended up being tossed from the roof onto the street below. It seems silly now, but at the time it was great fun.

I read that a pumpkin farmer can net $240,000 a year from a well run fall festival and sales to processing plants. Not too shabby. From the prices charged for pumpkins these days, I can understand how they do very well.

Posted in Life

A visit to a presidential library

Posted on by William Douthwaite

I got to visit my second presidential library this afternoon. My wife and I took a granddaughter and grandson to the George W. Bush Presidential Center in Dallas, Texas. My first was the Harry Truman Presidential Library in Independence, Missouri.

This library has a much different flavor. I enjoyed the history preserved in the Truman library. I lived the history in the Bush center.

The center included Bush’s family background, the 2020 presidential election, 9/11 and subsequent war on terrorism, and a commitment to world environmental and health issues. Memories of those years flooded back as I looked at videos, letters, photographs, memorabilia.

Both of the grandkids posed for a photo in the replica Oval Office. They loved learning about the president’s dogs, the First Lady’s dresses, and what is happening in oceans all around the world. Someday they’ll understand how their world was shaped by those eight years.

The center is beautiful and well done. It’s not free, but not too expensive, either. It’s a whole lot better than just reading a history book.

Posted in Life, Stories

The case of the missing package

Posted on by William Douthwaite

The message caught me completely by surprise. “Have not received. Tracking shows still in Florida.”

I sold a used Diaper Genie with a few extra supplies on eBay. I had packed it up and shipped it out on a Thursday with the promise of delivery to the buyer in South Carolina by Monday.

When I checked the tracking number, sure enough, the package had been sitting in Jacksonville for a week. How could that be?

I used a third party shipper, so I went to their website to see if I could get more information. Sure enough, I found this gem of a notification.

How does that happen? How does merchandise just disappear from a box in a truck? Was this an inside job? But then, why would anyone steal a used diaper bucket?

Here’s what I think happened. I think someone tossed the box a little too aggressively, it hit the ground and broke open, spilling the contents. No one wanted to repack it, so they just threw it in the trash and reported it missing. Problem solved. Let insurance handle it.

I will be able to file a claim and get my money back. I just have to send a bunch of info to my shipper.

The Diaper Genie had been sitting in the back of a closet for over a year. No one in my family wanted it, so I asked and got twenty bucks for it. When I went to pack it up, I discovered it still had some used diapers in it! Yes, I wrapped them up and threw them away. But if I knew someone was going to steal it, I would have left them in there!

Posted in Life

Is that guy in a wheelchair?

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Gabe Pierce on Unsplash.com

We were walking back to our economy Quality Inn motel room in Clinton, Mississippi after an average supper at a little place called Froghead Grill.

“Is that a guy in a wheelchair?”

Sure enough, a man was pushing himself down the middle of the street in a wheelchair. This street ran through a maze of even economy-er motels and ho-hum chain restaurants. The cars didn’t slow down much as he took cruised along the middle turn lane.

Every ten feet or so he would stop to take a break, and then start pushing again. As he neared the entrance of a convenience store, i could see he was a double amputee. I wondered out loud, “Do you think I should offer to help him?” Some are offended by such an offer. Others are grateful.

“He’ll probably want a handout.”

Good point. Naturally I had no cash. I know I should keep a few bucks in my pocket.

We barely made it across several busy streets to get back to our motel. This guy didn’t even flinch in the face of oncoming traffic.

Brave? Foolish? Determined? Fearless? Didn’t care? I’d guess all of the above.

Posted in dogs, Life, Stories

A double-dog dare

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Image by Yama Zsuzsanna Márkus from Pixabay

The sun was just peeking over the trees to the east as my dog and I walked along Bassett Lane. It’s quiet, earlier than most people leave for work or school. As we pass one of the most rundown houses in the neighborhood, two German shepherds come bounding down the street towards us.

The little guy on my leash is twenty pounds of curiosity and energy, ready to make friends with any person or beast. But I’m not so sure about these two, both about a hundred pounds. I’m rarely frightened by dogs, big or small, but this morning, I was worried.

I stopped to face them as Winston, my Westie, automatically sat. His tail wagged furiously as he anticipated meeting new buddies. I stood my ground and yelled, “Hey!” making the two shepherds pause. They only stopped for a moment before continuing their approach.

I figured they were in front of their house, so I repeated, “Hey!” and added, “Go home!” One of the shepherds turned and loped back towards the house. The other kept moving towards us.

I tried a different strategy. I commanded, “Sit!” And he (she?) sat. Relieved, I added, “Stay!” as we added a few steps of distance between us. I thought I was in the clear, but the dog got up and began to follow us down the street. If I stood still, he paused. If I began to walk, he wanted to come along.

This could take a while. Suddenly, I heard another voice saying, “Go home!” I had an ally, another dog walker thirty yards behind. Once the odds were on our side, the German shepherd trotted off towards the house. The other guy added, to no one in particular, “Keep your d*** dog on a leash!”

I waved as we turned to head home. I’ve never seen those two dogs again. But inside I’ll be at Defcon 5 whenever we’re walking on Bassett Lane.

Posted in Life

Be in the picture

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Kenny Eliason on Unsplash

Last night I went to my grandson’s baseball game at which another spectator captured most of the game on her phone. There were very few minutes when she wasn’t taking a picture or video of a player on the field.

I’ve begun intentionally limiting the number of pictures and videos I take with my iPhone. I realized that when I’m focused on a screen, I am missing the moment. When you’re focused on the tech, you’re missing out on the experience.

I’ve pondered this before in “Seeing with our eyes.” While my phone was in my pocket, here are a few things I observed at the game last night:

  • The gorgeous colors of an October sunset off in the distance. It’s only visible for a moment, and then it’s gone.
  • The catcher was busy making tiny sandcastles in the dirt behind home plate, not all that interested in the game. It’s a good thing he was well-padded, since most of the pitches from the machine hit him right in the chest protector and mask.
  • The other players on the team have really improved their hitting and fielding skills. The games become much more exciting as they move through the season.
  • An assortment of cute babies and toddlers come along to watch older siblings play the game. They are fun to watch as they eat snacks, climb fences, run around, and eat more snacks.
  • I saw a couple of herons soaring far overhead, making their way from one pond to the next. They fly in a perfectly straight line.
  • A number of people around me in the bleachers weren’t watching the game at all. They were shopping on their phones. I understand. After all, the holidays are approaching and the best deals don’t last long.

There’s a balance. Of course you want to take a few photos. Capture the moment. But be in the moment, too. Be in the picture. Experience the performance and the people. Listen and laugh. Enjoy.

Posted in Life

Not even close

Posted on by William Douthwaite

Readers will ask me, “How do you come up with ideas for your blog posts?” It’s not hard. I see them every day. Scenes and situations that make me wonder, “What in the world is going on here?”

So this guy didn’t even try. He’s driving a very small SUV. He’s parked in an extra wide handicapped spot with extra room on the side, and he’s missed it by a mile. I don’t see a handicapped card hanging from his rearview mirror. I can’t really see the license plate clearly, but I’ll bet it’s not a handicapped plate. It’s just a guy or a gal who doesn’t quite understand how store parking lots work.

I’m pretty conscientious about how I park. If I get out and see that I’m not straight inside of the lines, I start the car up and straighten it out. That’s just me. If a car is a little bit off, no problem. Just try to get inside the lines.

In fact, I believe that’s one of the things required in the rest for a driver’s license. You have to get your vehicle in the spot without hitting any of the four cones on each corner.

Can you imagine if this guy or gal had to parallel park? Where I grew up, that skill was essential. Not so much where I live and drive now. But every once in a while, I’m glad my dad and driver’s ed teacher taught me how to do that with a big old late-60s Ford Fairlane station wagon.

I wonder if it’s acceptable to call someone out for this kind of behavior. We shy away from that, don’t we? When half the population has a concealed weapon, I don’t want to provoke anyone to anger.

Maybe I could come at this from a Good Samaritan perspective. How about I finish parking your car – inside the lines – while you mozy into the store for a sub, an energy drink and a few lottery tickets.

If you take another look at the picture, you’ll see that other parking-challenged customers were in the store that day. And this isn’t even down by the liquor store entrance.

I like to park far away from the entrance of the store, far away from folks whose driving skills match their parking abilities.

Posted in Life

Go ahead, take a swing at me

Posted on by William Douthwaite

I heard my dog’s low gutteral growl long before this guy startled me one morning. At first I thought it was a live person standing outside his home. Wait a minute. No arms, no legs. It’s a boxing mannequin. I’ve seen standing and hanging body bags, but never a punching dummy like this. Especially not in our neighborhood.

Of course, you can buy your own on Amazon. And he gets great reviews. Once you fill the base with a few hundred pounds of sand or water, he can take a lot of abuse. I wonder how many of these the delivery guy has dropped off at homes?

What do you think? Would you rather take out your aggression on a cylindrical heavy bag, or something that looks like a real person? I’ve never done any boxing or fighting. I’ll bet some find it very satisfying land punch after punch and work off the day’s stress.

I’ve got a few young grandchildren who are learning Tae Kwon Do. So far they’ve just practiced forms and broken a few boards. But as they move up in belt color, it won’t be long before they will have to spar. That’s got to be a whole different experience. Hitting someone or being hit by someone is where it gets real.

Thinking back through my career, I don’t remember ever really wanting to take a swing at someone. I am sure my professors at the seminary discouraged that kind of pastoral care. However, I imagine there were some who wanted to get “real” with me. The prophets always took it on the chin, right?

I prefer running to martial arts. I’m sure I could have outrun any overly-aggressive parishioners.

Posted in Life

That mailbox didn’t have a chance

Posted on by William Douthwaite

Red marker next to mailbox? Check.

Reflective sticker affixed to the post? Check.

Post firmly embedded in the ground? Check.

Obnoxious, clearly noticeable color? Check.

When I saw the remains of this mailbox on a walk around the neighborhood, I thought, “There’s got to be a great story here.” A little tap from a car backing out of a driveway didn’t do this. A hurried mail carrier didn’t slam the door too hard. I don’t think we’ve had any earthquakes in Florida lately. Someone nailed this mailbox. They showed no mercy. They took it out.

  • The lawn guy was late. For what, I don’t know. He slammed the gate shut on the trailer, jumped in the truck and floored it. The trailer began to fishtail back and forth, almost out of control, until it swung through the mailbox. “What the heck was that?” Glancing in the mirror, he saw it and skidded to a stop. Looking up and down the street and seeing no one, the lawn guy carefully stacked the pieces and took off, a little slower this time.
  • He was pissed. The neighbor’s dog had visited his yard one too many times. Enough is enough. “I knew that baseball bat would come in handy.” He didn’t take any warmup swings. It was like swinging at a fastball right down the middle. It was the most satisfying hit of his life.
  • “Watch out, you’re too close to the side of the road.” “I know mom, I know…oh my gosh, what was that?” “I’m going to let your father teach you how to drive.”
  • “A backup camera? I don’t need no d*** backup camera.”

Most of the mailboxes on our street look like junk. Anything that gets them replaced is a good thing.